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darkdevasofdestruction · 4 months ago

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Chapter 1 - A Strange New World

"Konnichiwa! Watashi wa Hasashi Kitsune desu, yoroshiku onegaishimasu!" that's how it all began, really. Just a small, yet impossible to understand introduction from the red haired transfer girl. "...Did you just curse me?" the brunette girl, dressed in green robes, asked, her eyebrow arched, very confused. "No, no, I'm sure she sneezed or somethin'. Uh... Gesundheit." the older, brunet boy with crooked front teeth, who was clearly in his final years spoke out with a smirk.

"No, you idiots, didn't you pay attention?" a snobbish pale boy with platinated blond hair, crystal-like blue eyes, and a noble allure, scoffed at the imbeciles surrounding him. He was definitely the leader of the group, the girl noted. "She said... Kitsune something something. I'm sure she was introducing herself to us. You do know English, don't you?" the boy extended his hand for her to shake. "O-Oh, yes, I am sorry! Sometimes I do not realise I speak in my own language. I have not been here for long, you see... In fact, I got here barely a week ago." she cursed herself mentally, whilst using her sweetest soft voice. "My name is Hasashi Kitsune. It is great meeting all of you, and I hope we will get along well! Please take care of me!" with a bright smile, albeit, a bit shy, she bowed slightly to all of them, in sign of peace. "Huh, culture shock. Here, people don't bow to others. You'll learn soon." the boy who introduced himself as Draco Malfoy, explained to her, as he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and straightened her up. "Ah... Right, here you call each other by your... Given name, right? Not the family one." she let out an embarrassed chuckle. "So... It would not be improper to call you Draco, yes? And you can call me Kitsune!" on her pale face, complimenting her beautiful pink outfit, a blush painted her cheeks gracefully, as if she herself was a most innocent and beautiful peony. "You learn fast. Are you from a pureblood family, then? I don't think anything less than a half-blood would be sent to Slytherin." the boy with platinum hair muttered, fixing the girl carefully with his eyes. "I am not sure how pureblood works around here... But, if it makes for anything, I am sort of a Princess. You see, back in the 16th century, there lived a great daimyo - Uh, a Warlord, if you will - He was a samurai... A warrior, the lord of the North of Japan. He was so strong and ruthless, he was called the One-Eyed Dragon of Oshu. Date Masamune was his name. His wife gave birth to a daughter, and she was their most beloved child. And down her line, only girls were born, each of them having this hair ornament as a gift from the mother... And this katana from Masamune himself. There are many children from Date Masamune's bloodline, but I belong to the main branch, so... I am a bit more privileged."

the red haired girl laughed merrily as the others around her looked with wide, shocked eyes, albeit, a bit confused, but still fixed on the whole idea of having such a bright princess in front of them. In fact, she looked like the most beautiful and pure flower of Spring. A Princess amongst their ranks - That single notion was solely what they cared about. Her blood status. "Ehh, you're a Princess? That's so cool! What's it like being a Princess? Do you have lots of clothes? And live in a castle? Do you have tons of servants too?" the brunette girl called Pansy kept rambling on and on. "Parkinson, calm down, she's a foreigner. She may need some time to process what you're saying. You speak too fast." Marcus put his hand on top of her head to get her to shut up already. "Don't mind her, Princess. Anyway, if anyone gives you a tough time, you come to me, alright? I'll deal with them. After all, Slytherins are one big family, right~?" Draco's low, yet confident chuckle seemed to seep into the group's ears easily, as they all smiled at her very welcoming. "Is that so!" Kitsune exclaimed with glee. "That is so lovely! My bloodline treasures tradition, duty and family above all - You all are so kind and welcoming, I already feel right at home! Thank you so much for this, I hope I will not be bothering you." were all princesses as polite and sweet as she was? Draco wondered, as he analysed her with a half smirk on his face, as he realised he had one more person in his gang, not even bothering to listen to Dumbledore's incredibly boring speech for the 2nd time.

While Parkinson and Bullstrode kept fangirling over the newcomer and pestering her with a million questions per second, the young Malfoy heir laid back a little, observing the girl. Her hair was long past heir waist, and tied neatly at the end with a pink ribbon; In the light of the Great Hall, her hair was shining red, like an Azalea flower kissed by fire, and far more beautiful than a nymph. Her skin was flawless, like that of an antique porcelain doll, and her clothes, although odd for this country, suited her incredibly well - Such a delicate shade of pink, like the petals of a pink rose, wrapped around her and highlighting her noble allure. That, and the dangling flowery ornament placed so tactfully in her hair, the only jewellery she wore - And she needn't any more. Draco has seen plenty Purebloods whilst growing up - His family was, after all, just as their Common Room password, Toujours pur - Yet he could say, with his hand over his heart, never once had he seen a living being radiating so perfectly, like an innocent fairy that could do no wrong. Her fingers were long and slender, her nails were long with a slight claw-like sharpness, her hands were delicate and the way she was using the eating utensils were graceful - Never once had he thought he could call eating 'elegant'. Her posture, her smile, the way there was not a single strand of hair out of place, the careful way she was carrying herself and even the inflections in her voice... All of them came together to create this Gift of God, a perfect specimen of pure beauty.

Kitsune was, indeed, deserving of the title of Princess.

However, above all, there was one thing that stood out to Draco more than anything - It was her eyes - A perfect shade of Aquamarine, a little blue and a little green, so unique and sparkling like the most precious gem; They were twinkling with so many emotions... And when they looked his way, and locked with his own... Draco felt warmth rising in his cheeks and his heart beating in his chest. Charming. Enchanting. Heart-stealing. Those eyes of hers... They were absolutely mesmerising, capturing him like a siren's melody kissing away the life of a most lovestruck sailor lost at sea.And he was afraid he would soon become her next victim.

The day had been so stressful for the young girl - The nerves were killing her - The whole train ride she was alone... She was standing out like a sore thumb. The only colourful thing in a dark, bleak train. The United Kingdom had its share of green spots, alright... But nothing could prepare her for the monochrome feeling of melancholy and nostalgia she would feel. So lonely... Everything looked so cold and lonely...

She missed home, clearly. She missed the always-blooming Cherry Blossoms and Plum Blossoms from Mahoutokoro, she missed her little flower garden from grandma's home, and she missed the festivals where she'd dress up as a Kitsune in one of her rich, Princess kimonos and perform either sword dances, fan dances or play the flute. She missed the colours from back home... And the shrines. This didn't feel right... She was far away from home... From Masamune's land...

Kitsune almost felt as if nobody wanted to join her because she was so different and she knew very well how people were so afraid of things that are even the slightest thing different from the norm.

As soon as she stepped out of the train, the 12 year old girl followed directions, going on the boat with the other 1st years, as she, too, had to be sorted... And eventually given a set of robes. She heard tales of the Giant Squid from the Black Lake, but she couldn't care less. All she could do was look at the mirror-like sheen of the water, as the silver moonlight reflected into the dark water, creating brilliant zircons - And she let her fingers delicately glide the surface of the water, distorting the reality shown... Just as her own reality has been distorted.

There was a stern attitude to this tall, slender woman who, most likely, was a teacher as well, and she guided them to this huge Great Hall... But she could hear the whispers, the gasps, the talks... All of them wondering why was she there... Who was she, anyway? Then... The first years were so mesmerised by the beauty of this Great Hall... But what was so spectacular about it, anyway?

Mahoutokoro was much more beautiful. When she was sorted into her House - the Sakura House, ironically - flower petals were falling down from the ceiling, and it was bright and sunny inside. The Hall had turned into a gorgeous and flowery garden after her sorting - Only to change to another scenery with the next student. Here, it's dark, it's night... And so cold and gloomy... It felt like a dungeon jail. She wanted to go out, to feel the cold breeze on her skin, and she wanted to hug a tree, to plant a flower, to dance to the sound of the forest and its critters.

Alas... She was stuck here.

Not too fast, not too late either, she heard her name being called - Hasashi Kitsune - Oh, how she wanted to change her name... Hasashi... Yes, beautiful name, very strong, and yet... Date Kitsune.... Masamune's own kin... She was proud of who she was - Sometimes, she'd even think herself vain. She didn't care that she was a Princess, she cared about her heritage, about the Samurai bloodline, and the honour she had to bring her family - The honour she wanted to bring Masamune.

She wanted to become great like him, the Fire Fox of Oshu, maybe, or something astounding like that, but until then...

"Hasashi Kitsune, she will join the 2nd years. She is a transfer student from Mahoutokoro, so please, treat her well and make sure she gets used to our culture." the woman spoke as Kitsune had to walk up on the pedestal, and the only thing she could think about as she watched the teachers, and then, she looked over at the boring black dots sorted into four tables, she realised how dull and weird the British-Wizard fashion was. What a dreadful mess.

As she stepped on the 3-legged stool, she let the pointy hat be put on her head, and she heard it talk... It had to be telepathic, clearly, since she heard it naught before.

"Ahh, a transfer student, hadn't had one of you in a while. In fact, you're the first one from Mahoutokoro. I can see you harbour great sadness and nostalgy in your heart... And at such a young age. Yes, I can see, you are proud of your heritage, and you would do anything to achieve your goal. You are strong, and fearless, yet you choose to mask your fierceness under this delicate facade of politeness. I can see that's how you were taught, and yet, this teaching seems to be suiting you. Very intelligent as well, a lot of ambition, and a strict follower of tradition and duty... Clearly, there's no other house perfect for you than....... SLYTHERIN!" ah, yes, it just had to shout out the house's name in her ear.

"Arigatou." she thanked the hat as it got taken off, then turned to bow at it quickly, and went to the only table that clapped and cheered...

Well, she liked green, at least... It brought out her eyes really nicely.

She carefully stepped in front of the table, meekly looking around, only to see a blond boy pushing one of the bigger boys away from him and motioning for her to take a seat next to him. Who'd have thought someone would actually go out of their way to chat with her? To help her fit in? Clearly, she didn't expect that... So, then, she had to pull that Princess facade the hat spoke about, and make herself be liked.

Perhaps a group of friends... Or at least acquaintances, were exactly what she needed to take her mind away from the loneliness that tainted her heart. And so... A lovely chat began...

That evening, they chose to rest, since the next day school was going to start full force, and they needed all the strength they could gather, and the chatting and getting to know each other could go through the year with no problem. Breakfast went by excruciatingly fast, and Kitsune's nerves were killing her, she was so nervous, having to meet all teachers one by one now, and she had to make a great impression. She wanted the teachers to be impressed with her, she knew her robes were turning golden very soon, she always had top marks in all her subjects...

But, this day didn't start out very well... They didn't have Herbology as an actual subject back in Mahoutokoro, instead, they would take care of what others would call them "muggle" plants. Children were encouraged to plant and take care of their own flowers in the garden, it was a symbol of diligence and patience, something everyone should have - So, clearly, she wasn't all that familiar with taking care of most magical plants, and there she was, afraid of getting some kind of oral pop quiz and embarrassing herself.

"Come on, don't worry so much, it's gonna be alright! Sprout is the Head of the Hufflepuff house, she's one of the nicest teachers around, trust me. Her and Flitwick, Charms' teacher. You'll be fine." Pansy patted her shoulder, encouraging the girl, who merely nodded and sighed, softly hitting her chest with her fist.

"If I cannot do even something and mediocre as fighting my own fears, than I do not deserve to be Masamune's kin. Let us go. I will not let some stupid plants get to me." Kitsune scoffed, following her new brunette friend, and thus, followed her actions by putting on a very ugly, neutral coloured cape. Not a bad decision, considering she wouldn't want to soil her beautiful pink robes... For as long as she'll wear them, at least.

She held her hands in tight fists, her jaw clenched as she waited for the teacher to arrive in the humid and warm, incredibly cramped greenhouse, where everyone was standing in front of a pot... The girl couldn't help but feel judgemental, thinking back at how pristine clean and luxuriant everything felt back at home.

Then, just as she side-eyed everything with a sort of arrogant allure, a short and stout woman, kinda looking like a smiling pumpkin, walked in, welcoming everyone in a hurried way, telling them they would be repotting mandrakes.

Blinking, she felt bad for judging this place so harshly, this woman seemed to have a nice aura around her. After all, plants can feel people's auras, and they wouldn't grow and bloom so beautifully around people who emanate negative vibes - She was sure of that, and she learnt that since she was young. She really loved flowers.

"Sensei, may I answer, please?" with a soft, timid smile, Kitsune leaned forward a bit, raising her hand mid-way to announce her presence, not being familiar with how things were around this place.

"Ah, you're the new girl, how lovely! Miss Hasashi, yes? Did you have Herbology back in your school?" oh, she's actually interested in her culture and education?! And she remembered her name so quickly! My, she's flattered! "O-Oh, yes, that is my name, thank you for remembering it! I love all kinds of plants and flowers, however, we didn't have this kind of Herbology as a class back home. Instead, since we start school at 7 years old, and we finish at 18, we are encouraged to plants any kind of plant we want, be it a tree, a flower, a bonsai... Anything - In the School's flower garden - And we are encouraged to properly attend to its every need. It does not only test our patience, hard-work and diligence, but it teaches you that the gentler and kinder you are to any living being, the more beautiful it will grow!"

Draco looked at the girl as she spoke, and realised the way she pronounced some words - Some letters, in fact - Sounded melodic, albeit in a strange, foreign way. Her difficulty in properly pronouncing the 'R' letter was amusing, yet it seemed to suit her very well. He didn't care much about what she had to say, however, the way the Greenhouse suddenly started glowing thanks to her seemed to attract his attention.

"How fascinating! That is completely true for all plants, be it muggle or magical ones, and just as you said, for all living beings! I would have loved to have a sweet student such as you in my own House, alas, Professor Snape will have that privilege. Anyhow, go ahead and answer the question, please." the professor nodded with a kind smile seeing the petite girl giving such a kitten-like smile, despite the obvious shyness she presented, and yet, the way she spoke wasn't meek - It wasn't stuttery, nor awkward, like say - Longbottom or Weasley.

Despite being soft-spoken, she was sure of every word she said - A certain kind of confidence that wasn't arrogant, nor Know-It-All - It was the kind of leadership confidence that would inspire others and that, Sprout knew, was very hard to find nowadays, and she wondered whether that was a culture difference, or if it was simply how she was.

"Mandrake, also known as Mandragora, in the magical world, is used to create a potion that can return those who have been petrified, back to their original state. However, in the... Muggle world, as you call it, the root can be used to treat several illnesses, such as stomach ulcer, colic, convulsions, rheumatism, it can trigger vomiting, it can be used as a sedative of sorts, and reduce pain, whilst the leaves can be used to create an extract and heal skin ulcers. However, it can also do bad things, since, if you are not careful, its cry can be fatal to those who hear it." Kitsune spoke out, and one girl from her line, with pretty, bushy chestnut hair and doe-like, very kind eyes, looked at her with sparks and admiration -

She only learnt textbook stuff, all the magical things from the books she had for school, and yet, this transfer student could be an intellectual rival to her! Was she a half-blood? Could that be why she's so well-versed in both worlds? Oh, this little Gryffindor was so eager to get to know her better! She didn't seem snobbish, nor mean, like the rest of the Green-Robed horde she had to encounter in the past year.

"Excellent, Miss Hasashi, absolutely excellent! 15 points to Slytherin! Are you perhaps interested in becoming a Healer, my dear?" the teacher asked, very impressed at the vast knowledge, yet, she was well aware that this plant they were studying today has been documented since ancient times and everyone, muggle or not, would know at least a little bit about it.

"Oh, yes, actually, I am! I am interested in many things, however, Healing I find a very important skill to be knowledgeable in, and I hope I will succeed and be able to cure and take away the pain of as many living beings as possible!" with a crystalline giggle, she clasped together her hands to her chest, almost bouncing in her spot from excitement getting to talk - Even if just a little bit - About the things she's so interested in. In fact...

Kitsune had to admit, no matter how much of a sin it may be, she loved to be the center of attention - Only if it was positive, obviously.

"I am sure the Medical field is going to benefit greatly from having someone like you to aid them! Well then, moving on. As our Mandrakes are still only seedlings, their cries won't kill you... Yet. But they could knock you out for hours, which is why I have given you earmuffs, for auditory protection. So, could you please put them on, right away? Quickly. Flaps tight down, and watch me closely." as Kitsune put on her very ugly earmuffs, she could feel the Fashion Police screeching in agony, yet at the same time, she was focusing her hearing so she could hear the instructions and correlate them to the teacher's actions...

Not that it was a big deal. However, she didn't very much like the idea of having to do anything that required strength, in particular, the upper body, as the Fox-like girl preferred to use agility and speed, rather than brute strength which she very much lacked... As seen when she sometimes struggles to open water bottle caps... In front of others.

Her bright, gem-like eyes attentively watched the mandrake being repotted, only for one of the students, one that very much resembled a Nezumi... A small, meek mouse... To faint at the almost-grotesque look of the mandrake root, that looked like a deformed baby.

As the saying goes, Monkey Says - Monkey Does, and thus, the students were then urged to repeat as they saw, and Kitsune chose to go quickly and get rid of this job, but as she was done, she heard a grunt from her left - Her new friend, Draco, after laughing at the ugly plant, stuck his finger in its mouth, only for it to bit him.

"Oh, dear, that is no good!" with a soft gasp, the girl firmly grasped the mandrake's mouth, and dug into it from the sides with her thumbs, prying it open - Thankfully, it opened its mouth quickly, letting the boy rescue his finger - And the girl carefully potted the plant, letting out an exhale, before taking off her own gloves, and his, carefully cradling his injured hand. "Does it hurt, Draco? Are you alright?" she asked worriedly, seeing the red finger, she tapped it with the tips of her fingers and muttered a quick Episkey, healing the inflammation. "Any better?"

"Huh... You'll be a good Healer in the future. Yeah, I'm good, thanks. It still hurts a bit, but it's nothing big." he muttered, blinking as he examined his perfectly cured finger.

"Well... There you go." as the girl held his hand in both of hers, soft like clouds, he realised, so graceful and delicate as only a Princess would, she raised his hand to her mouth, and he watched with wide eyes and mouth agape as he saw her kissing his knuckles. "Obaa-sama... Uhm... Granny, I mean... She taught me when I was a child that you can take away the pain by kissing the place where you got hurt... It sort of acts as a charm, you could say. Not the type taught in magic school, I mean. Such a cute, little thing done from one person to another. So, I am doing it to you. I hope the pain will go away soon, Draco." the girl smiled, and for him, it seemed like the moment lasted for a hundred lifetimes.

He felt stuck in that exact second, and he wished for a spell to be invented to stop time, so he could stay like this with her. All this time, in this short time on Earth, he received love from his mother, and he held her so dear to his heart. And now, he had the luck to have this stranger behave so nicely to him. Not an obsessive and annoying kind of nice, like Parkinson, when she'd always bug him, but one where it gave him the space to not feel smothered, but when needed, it would come by and caress your heart, like a warm, Spring breeze. "Your people are very different from ours. But I guess it worked. I feel much better. Come now, let's get out of here before I lose my hearing to some stupid dirt baby thing. We have Potions now, with our Head of the House, Professor Snape. You're gonna love him. He takes kindly to those who are diligent and obviously interested in the subject, like you. Just... Don't be intimidated by him. Stay around me, and you'll be good." Ha... He's so cocky, Kitsune thought... Does she really seem like someone who needs constant protection?

How amusing. I bet when he'll have the sharp blade of my katana at his throat, slowly digging into his skin, feeling small droplets of blood falling down, he won't feel the same, the girl thought to herself, covering her mouth with her long haori sleeve, stifling her giggle. "Thank you for taking care of me, Draco. You are so sweet and attentive with me." even the most skilled of puppeteers can have strings, dear Draco, and trust me, you're nowhere near as close to being one of the best.

" 'Course I am." he nodded, flashing her a charming smirk, as they rushed to the dungeons - A place so humid, cold and dark, a place where their own House Common Room was... Just under the Black Lake. It almost felt as if they were isolated from the rest of the world.

The wooden heels of her zori made clicks into the cobbled stone, resounding throughout the long corridors, and the boy opened the door, allowing her to go through first, and went to one of the desks closer to the front, wanting to show they were paying attention, but not enough that they would be constantly in his attention - After all, they liked whispering to each other in class, why take that privilege away?

So, they opened their textbooks, and as they were chatting lightly, the door was abruptly slammed open, and in, came a tall, brunet man, with a very stern, almost scary look on his face, dressed in all black. As he rushed in, the Japanese girl stood up and bowed, saluting the teacher, only for everyone to look at her weirdly, including this Snape person.

"...Cultural difference?" she whispered to her deskmate quietly, her face burning with embarrassment as she bit her lip harshly.

"Hmm... I see. Is this your way of saluting and showing respect to teachers, Hasashi?" the teacher asked as he prowled in front of her desk, towering over her small form, almost shadowing her completely.

"Hai... I apologise for offending you with my actions, Sensei, I have not yet gotten used to the English way. I have made a mistake, please punish me accordingly." she bowed lower, only to hear a few stifled giggles around the class, overshadowed by an amused scoff from the man who tapped her shoulder and motioned her to get up.

"It's fine, you didn't offend anyone. In fact, I'd say you should teach this lot to be more respectful of the teacher staff. Since I did not receive any report card on your grades, I will ask you a few questions so I can understand the level of your aptitudes. Do you understand?" he asked, folding his arms at his chest, looking like an oversized bat, at most. Yes, he seemed intimidating, but if she couldn't go past something like this, then she wasn't worthy of sharing the same blood as the fearless Masamune Date.

"Hai. I am ready, Sensei." to show she wasn't afraid, her green eyes, full of life, peered deep into his dark, abyss-like ones, that seemed to hide only death and desolation. If only either of them knew, it was quite the opposite. "What colour should a Shrinking Solution be?" his first question came after a few seconds of pondering, unlike her answer, faster than blinking - Ashido Midori - She said, only to stumble over and correct herself in English, Acid Green, this time. "Good, good. What would you get if you added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" "Uh... What do you call it in English... It sends the drinker into a death-like state, comatose like, almost... Flood of Zombie?" she frowned, looking down as she tried to think of the English equivalent. "Essence of the Dead that Lives?" she tried again, which made a few students laugh. She wanted to lash out, to cut off their heads and put them on spikes, to laugh at them, but she had to be polite to everyone... She had to fit in and make friends, and then, as any businessman would say - Profit. "Draught of Living Death, you are correct, Hasashi. As per your incredibly smart colleagues, I will remind them of the tragic grades they took at the exams last year, and how they only passed through sheer luck and the kindness of my own heart. Next. Tell me what is the most powerful love potion, and its distinctive characteristics." oh, yes, the teacher helps the pitiful child who tries their best, but still struggles - If this isn't a plus for me, I don't know what is - Kitsune thought, as she tried her best to keep a smirk from creeping on her face.

"Amortentia... Although, I wouldn't call that love, but obsession. And, uh... The colour of the sheen is like... Pearl. And... Smoke comes up in specific swirls. And it smells different for each person, depending on what they love." she explained, making a motions with her hands to show the smoke raising up. "You already know more than all of these dunderheads who have the audacity to laugh. Last question, and we're done here. Armadillo bile, scarab beetles, and ginger roots, what do you use them for?" he asked once again, and in his heart, seeing this little girl dressed in flower clothes - Red hair, green eyes - He was so bitterly reminded of Her. The woman who once captured his heart, from when she was a little girl, up until the time they grew up... And yet, only one grew to be middle aged, for the other died so cruelly... She was taken away from him... "Smart potion!" she answered quickly, pointing to her head - Her brain, rather - "Makes you think clearly. More attentive." she explained well enough... Yes, Lily was a true prodigy in potions as well. Ask her anything, and she'd know. Just like he was, and still is, a Master of Potions. "20 points to Slytherin... And 10 points off for each of you who dared laugh. Sit down, Hasashi. Fire-Protection potion. I will write down the ingredients and steps on how to brew it..." and so, Kitsune sat down, shared a triumphant look with her platinated friend with whom she fist-bumped quickly before they started taking notes.

The rest of the class went about as one would expect - Twenty cauldrons stood steaming between the wooden desks, on which stood brass scales and jars of ingredients, and every student, paired up, was attending their potion, on which they would lately be graded... And then, just like at the previous class, something had to go amiss, that something being this Gryffindor boy, the meek mouse from earlier who fainted... And now, he made the cauldron explode... Somehow.

There were only 3 steps, how could one go so wrong? Was this boy vision-impaired, or simply incompetent? Not to say that mistakes weren't human, clearly, but this was really something else. Something big enough for Snape to overreact, scold the boy, Evanesco-away the potion and give him a straight Zero on it. Oh well...

This class went by faster than expected, and thus, lunch came by, and Kitsune could only look at the food and sigh - She really craved some Ramen... Or at least one of those super cheap, supermarket instant-Udon... And she missed seeing everyone use chopsticks... And having Bento, eating outside, in the lovely sun. Shaking her head, she took out her own chopsticks and put a little bit of everything on her plate, wanting to eat in peace and quiet... But the gang was anything but that, and she couldn't help but chuckle and partake occasionally in their conversation.

"Did you hear those stupid Gryffindors laughing at you?! Gosh, how I wanted to teach them a lesson. How dare they laugh at our Princess?" Draco sneered angrily, only for the girl to carefully put down her plate and place her hand on his shoulder, smiling at him. "Thank you for being here for me, Draco. I know I can rely on you if I ever need you. There is no need to get angry on my behalf, you saw that Sensei punished them accordingly." ever the peace-maker, Kitsune... If only they knew... "All they know is to ridicule and make fun of us, just because we are superior! They are nothing more than disgusting blood-traitors and mudbloods!" harsh, Parkinson... So harsh... So cruel... "Do you know Quidditch, Kitsune?" after scoffing to calm himself down, the boy turned to look at her. "Oh, yes, I know the game! I never played it myself, but I went to all the matches in our school. I find it very fascinating." she smiled at him - She seemed to have a passive, gentle smile on her face whenever around anyone who would approach her with good intentions. "Then, will you cheer for me at the next match?" he smirked, wanting to hear the praises of all those around him. "Ehhh? You got chosen for the Slytherin's team?! Already?!" Parkinson gasped in shock... The two goons behind him seemed to want to say something, but they were much too dumb to open their mouth and say something that wasn't akin to a gorilla laugh. "Of course! I'm the Slytherin's new Seeker! Not to mention, my dad made a very kind donation to our team. He got us all Nimbus 2001. There's no way we're gonna lose against anyone, including Scar-face!" the boy boasted confidently, only for the girl dressed in pink to almost literally have question marks above her head, as she smiled wider, albeit, very confused. "Uhm... Who is... Scar... Face?" she mumbled softly, not wanting to bother. "Ohhh, right, right, you don't know... You don't know Saint Potter. Honestly, it's better that you don't know him...Yet, you have to know about him, so you keep your distance. Look over there. See that guy with glasses? Yeah, that's him. That's Potter. That ginger hobo is Weasley, and rodent teeth with hair like a bush is Mudblood Granger. They are the worst. And Dumbledore praises them just because they are Gryffindors. It's unfair and stupid. That's why Snape protects us. He's the only teacher who isn't lenient with those idiots there." the boy tried to explain, but such silly misunderstandings seemed nothing but childish for her, and she only chuckled in agreement. "This war between houses seems really silly if you ask me. I cannot say I understand this competition of yours. We are sorted into four Houses too, but they are all representatives of a flower from each season. We have Cherry Blossom for Spring, Lotus for Summer, Chrysanthemum for Autumn and Plum for Winter. They all have their traits, of course, that is why we are sorted accordingly, but in the end, we are all flowers, and we should be kind to one another... That is what we are taught." she explained, hoping they would stop this idiocy, at least in her presence. "Flowers for Houses, huh? How very feminine. Yes, I have to say, flowers and colours suit you well. Then, what are the traits for each House? Tell me that, and I'll tell you about ours." leaning his elbow on the table, as he rested his jaw on his palm, Draco leisurely relaxed in his seat, waiting for the girl to speak. In fact, he realised that, the more native words she spoke, the cuter she was.

"Well, I was sorted into the Sakura house... The Cherry Blossom. My House stands for feminine beauty, strength and mystery, while also acknowledging the fleeting nature of life, and how one must do anything to achieve their goals. The Cherry Blossom is a national treasure, and since we start school in April, the two weeks in which the trees are in bloom, we go watch the beautiful flowers. Most people sorted here choose to go to Kendo classes... Uh... Sword fighting, if you will. And we... We mix dancing and fighting. Like Yin and Yang, we combine the feminine grace with the masculine strength... Et voila. We have this." she giggled softly, thinking with glee at the wonderful sensation of having the handle of her katana... Masamune's own katana... grasped tightly in her hand as she slashed away at the bamboo sticks with perfect accuracy.

"...You mean to say... You can fight with a sword? Like... A real sword?" Pansy gasped loudly, which seemed to peak everyone's interest... The people around, that is.

"H-Hai... Hai. I told you, I come from a Samurai bloodline. For me, it is the highest honour to be able to wield Masamune's katana. Life is short, I fear nothing, and I will allow nothing to come between me and my happiness and ambition. Masamune once said... 'You cannot enjoy life if you spend all your time huddling in fear, hiding your eyes. Let go of your fear. Look where you are. Enjoy yourself. You can do whatever you like, just make sure you are doing that for you, not for anyone else. It's your life, not anybody else's.' I choose to live by his words, and somehow, I believe that most of my house chose this as our House's quote." this foreigner... Is something else. She sounds like a muggle, somehow, and yet, things abroad seems so... Different.

Like it's a whole other world than the one he lives in. This is weird, this is strange, and yet... And yet, Draco's unquenchable thirst for knowledge and for unveiling mysteries makes him want to know more and more about this land of mystery.

"So, you say you have your sword with you? Here? At Hogwarts?" Draco leaned forward, very intrigued. "Sono tori desu." the girl nodded simply, patting the sword attached to her hip, before continuing. "I would rather die than have that sword taken away from me. It means to me more than anything else in the world."

"Show us, then! I've never seen a sword in my life - How cool!" Parkinson chirped immediately, only to be cut off by the foreigner's edged voice. "Kotowaru." she shook her head solemnly. "You are not used to having weapons around you. All you know is that wooden, pointy stick of yours. I could take off your head before you would even be able to blink. I do not make mistakes. I NEVER make mistakes. And yet, if one of you accidentally did something stupid, I would be the one to take the blame, not any of you. I'm not going to entertain any of you. I am a Princess. Only a select few can watch me perform, and neither of you earned that privilege." the girl scoffed, obviously offended. She even looked away like an indignant Princess, Draco thought in amusement. Very dignified and prideful. "Come on, Princess, don't get mad at us. I'm sure these guys are sorry for being insensitive idiots." however, just as Draco scolded his friends, an owl flies into the Great Hall, letting a letter fall into Weasley's food plate... Only for him to stare horrified at it, almost crying. Well, first of all, the bird fell in the food too, but... That's the least of his embarrassment. A Howler, they called it... "Draco... What's a... A... That." she pointed at the letter. "It's a show. Watch and see, Princess." Draco laughed along with all the goons around him and the letter suddenly rose up and started shrieking at the ginger boy, making the girl gasp in shock. "RONALD WEASLEY! How DARE you steal that car! I am absolutely DISGUSTED! Your father's now facing an inquiry at work and it's ENTIRELY! YOUR! FAULT! If you put another TOE out of the line, we'll bring you STRAIGHT HOME! Oh, and Ginny, dear, congratulations on making Gryffindor, your father and I are so proud." the obnoxious letter must have been from his mother, Kitsune thought, as she watched the letter stick its... Uh... Tongue at him, then rip itself apart. However, as sympathetic as she wanted to appear, she couldn't help but stifle a laughter as well as everyone around. "I surely didn't expect something like this to happen. You were right, this was quite the show. But... No matter what he did, he surely shamed his family. But such a public scolding? My... How dishonourable..." the girl shuddered slightly, cringing at the idea. "The Weasleys are a shame to this wizarding world, Kitsune. They are all Blood Traitors. This is what he deserves." but his harsh words, although they bothered her, she didn't care to refute or anything. This wasn't her country, nor her school, nor her people or her friends. These were all just a bunch of mean-spirited strangers who knew nothing but to be hostile against each other. What an obnoxious place she was stuck into.

Can't she just go home already? This whole ordeal is so troublesome...

Next Chapter >

#a princess's duty #draco malfoy x hasashi kitsune #draco malfoy x oc #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy

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eightysixed · 2 years ago

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Dear Diary,

Yesterday I turned 25, not like anyone in the universe noticed. For starters, my custom cake from Momofuku (that’s just called Milk Bar now, wtf?) did not have frogs on it — it had peaches! I couldn’t even act disappointed because the only time I saw it was as it was getting wheeled out, and then of course I had to smile about it like I was some basic bitch who’d order a cake with peaches on it. Embarrazzing. And then to top it all off after I blew the candles the DJ played a Sway song. I swear, he has some kind of vendetta against me because I elbowed his girlfriend in Ibiza just after she got her rhinoplasty. How the fuck was I supposed to know her nose was sensitive? But that’s not even the issue, the issue is that he played a fucking Sway song. On my birthday. In front of all my friends — who, yes — noticed. Like, duh. Mikaela gave me this one brow raised look which is Mikaela for are you clocking what I’m clocking? Amber, bless her soul, carried on like nothing had happened. But oh my god, they knew. How could the DJ not know that Sway broke up me two weeks ago?? It was on TMZ for fucking crying out loud. God. I wanted to cry because of this ugly ass cake and Sway’s song blasting everywhere but you know, everyone had their phones out recording tiktoks and stories of me or whatever, so I had to grin and bear it. Ugh. Being known is such a fucking drag sometimes.

Oh and also like half the people we invited didn’t turn up. I asked Laura if she sent out all the invites and she said she did. Amber said blame March Madness, as if everyone’s just at a ball game on my birthday? I mean I know Sneezy was, I saw his ass courtside on stories this morning, but everybody else? Like at least 5 important people were missing. I know, I know, count my blessings and all, daddy came through with another e-vite from Richard Branson so we can go to Necker again this summer. Or at least I can, I know he’ll be too busy of course. Small consolation when I spent half of my own birthday party locked in the bathroom wanting to cry. Maybe I did cry and I just dissociated it all. I don’t know. I don’t remember.

Either way, it was shit. So shit that I woke up in need of a reinvention, and not even Cole’s ‘HBD’ text was enough to lift my spirits. If I was truly petty, I’d be finding a way to date him so I could rub it all in Sway’s face wherever he went, but honestly I don’t have the mental strength to do that and also I think Cole has a girl now. I’m not sure. But that’s really irrelevant to the fact that Jeffree came through with a video recorded happy birthday, and staring at his luscious platinum locks I thought gee — maybe I should go platinum? I booked in an emergency appointment at Miro’s but honestly I don’t know who the fuck was on the other end, cause when I got there Miro wasn’t there. Only some bitch named Joanne and oh my god — she fried my hair. Worse than Mila Jovovich in Fifth Element. Okay, maybe not that bad, my hair is still on top of my head in one piece. But she left it piss yellow. I had to call Manu and tell him to bring me a hoodie ASAP, and when he said there was no hoodie in the car I made him buy one at the Urban next door. I know I said I was on a no-spend month but it was an emergency, alright? If I didn’t leave there covered up someone could pap me and mistake me for a 2011 Courtney Stodden.

So there we were, me in the back of the car, hood up, in fatal position, and Manu driving. What could possibly cheer me up? “How about In-N-Out?” he suggested, knowing all my vices. I was about to say no on account of I didn’t feel like eating shit, but then decided, fuck it. If I have to have the worst week ever, let me be stereotypically Bridget Jones and drown all my sorrows in a double double animal style. Manu ordered, I told him to get something for himself too and we ate in the parking lot. I think he heard my sniffles because he eventually asked me what’s wrong. Can’t you see the cat piss on top of my head, Manu?! It’s horrendous! But he reassured me it wasn’t that bad and I could always get Miro to do a house call and fix it, and after I remembered I could do that, I calmed a little. At least the hair was temporary, unlike the Hieronymus Bosch purgatory I’ve been in for two weeks now.

P.S. I spotted Mia in a Post Malone music video while I had my foils in at the hair salon, how fucking random is that? She looked so cute and like her ‘before’ self, I almost pulled out my phone and messaged her, but she’s such a fucking mess nowadays I decided not to. Like, I feel for her a lot but I don’t know…not up for dealing with that.

So yeah, that was my two disastrous consecutive days. It feels like some archaic god is smiting me for…I don’t know, existing? Most of all, I know I would’ve been totally fine, I would’ve even laughed my hair disaster off (there’s like, serious breakage, it’s dire y’all) if I was still with Sway. I miss him so much. I’m like that meme, that one that’s like “everything reminds me of him”. Is that a meme? I can’t remember. But if it’s not, it should be. Maybe this is what I get for dating a Gemini. It must be. But the heart wants what it wants. Ah, the misery.

Not having a good time, LB

#self para #lulubelle

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raainy-daze · 2 years ago

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Your Best Story

halloween special !

rottmnt leo x gn!reader

summary: midnight’s the perfect time to tell your ghost story, right?

word count: 1,352

warnings for creepypasta-esque stories! i was lazy with it so i doubt it would actually shake anyone, but just in case

a/n: second halloween oneshot of the month! i was somewhat happy with the first half of this, but i feel like i got a bit lazy in the second half. either way, happy halloween!

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

Ah, October, the month of spooks and scares. There’s a chill in the air, and celebrations have begun.

On this particular night - October 5th, if you were to be exact - you were all cozied up in your apartment, wrapped in a blanket, sharing a bowl of popcorn with Leonardo Hamato himself as the credits to Hocus Pocus rolled.

“And that’s why the Sanderson sisters are icons.”

“Because they tried to eat a bunch of little children?”

“No, because they looked fabulous while doing it!”

“Whatever you say, blue.” You pressed a kiss to Leo’s cheek before you grabbed the now empty, save for a few unpopped kernels, popcorn bowl. A quick glance at the time told you the time was now approaching midnight, and the stars you could see through your window certainly seemed to agree with your clock.

“I can’t say the story was all that scary, though. I mean, come on, that was supposed to scare people in this town?”

“It’s a kids movie, Leo.”

“Ah, yes, a kid’s movie where they make fun of the main character for being a virgin every five minutes.”

You sat back down with Leo, leaving the bowl ‘to soak’ (yes, all that was in it was popcorn, but it wouldn’t hurt). “Fair point, but my own point still stands. I doubt they’d want to scare away all the five year olds.”

Leo shrugged, moving closer to you. He opened his arms, one end of the blanket in each hand, signaling for you to join him. “Well, I say that Allison’s a horrible storyteller, and I can do it better.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“Tell me a scary story, then.”

“Ohh, you sure about that?” There was an all-too familiar light on Leo’s eyes. “It’s getting late. I wouldn’t want to disturb your sleep.”

“Try me.”

“Well…” A grin had spread across Leo’s face now. “Have you ever heard the tale of… The Gumbus?” He waggled his fingers for a dramatic flair, but you just raised an eyebrow.

“I have.”

“Well, you’d better brace yourself then, because the Gumbu- wait, you have?” His smirk fell right off his face. It was kind of sad, really.

“Yeah, he was a robot some ten-year-old stock boy built. Mikey told me all about it. There was a chicken involved too, wasn’t there?”

“Oh, that little story-stealer- okay, that’s fine, that’s not all I’ve got. Why don’t I tell you about the…” Leo’s voice trailed off. “… Okay, yeah, that’s all I had.”

“How about I tell you a story, then?” It was your turn to wear the malicious grin.

“Depends. Is this the same one you told Mikey that freaked him out enough that he slept with a flashlight for a week?”

“Oh, I’ve got plenty of stories. It’s up to you how scary you want it.”

“Give me your worst.”

“My worst, huh? You’re sure about that?”

“Your worst.”

You shrugged. “Your choice.” You cleared your throat, getting into your ‘spooky zone’. You would’ve got the light, but the switch was on the end of the room, and you were way too comfortable to get up for that.

“Have I ever told you about my friend Skye?”

“No, you have not. Let me guess, she’s haunted?”

“Well, yeah, but that’s not all. Wait, one sec-“ You grabbed your phone from your pocket, and quickly typed in ‘scary music’. You pressed play and turned back to Leo.

“‘Ghost Story Music’?” Leo read the playlist name. “Really?”

“Atmosphere, Leo, it’s all about the atmosphere.” You cleared your throat, and began telling your story. “About a year ago, my friend Skye and I went shopping. Skye was a nice girl - platinum blonde hair, brown eyes. She always gave to those less fortunate than herself.”

As you described your ‘friend’, you began hearing raindrops fall on your window. It truly was a night that just aligned itself for you, wasn’t it?

“Was?”

“I’m getting there. Now, we were in this old thrift shop. I don’t remember its name, or the address. I do remember that we only bought one thing, however. A pair of ruby red earrings that Skye had found. She told me she felt drawn to them. Little did I know just how drawn she was.”

Thunder. Leo jumped a bit, to your delight. “Scared already?”

“Yeah, right. You haven’t even told me anything weird yet.” Leo - albeit jokingly - rolled his eyes.

“Sometimes, the anticipation is worse than the story itself, y’know.”

“Sure.” When had he grabbed your phone? “And that’s why you need an atmosphere playlist.”

“Oh, just shut up and listen to the story.” You grabbed your phone back from being waved in front of your face and continued.

“So, Skye started wearing these earrings like, all the time. And I mean all the time. About three months after she’d bought them, I went to visit her. It was early in the morning, and I guess her alarm didn’t go off. I found her sleeping in these earrings.”

“Mm hm.”

“I woke her up, and asked her if she’d just forgotten to take them off. After all, you could rip an earlobe like that, these were dangly earrings.” You pulled on your own ear to illustrate your point. “She told me she couldn’t take them off.”

“And why’s that?”

“The voices wouldn’t let her.”

That seemed to catch Leo off guard. “Excuse me?”

“She told me about a week after getting the earrings, she began hearing voices. They told her how special the earrings were, and how special she was. I remember her eyes glazing over like she was in a trance when she told me what they referred to her as.”

“What?”

“Food.”

Leo’s eyes widened. He was the type to pretend to not be scared, but you thought you were getting through to him.

“After that, I told her she had to take them off, but the next day she came to school with them. And the next. And the next. The fourth day, she didn’t show up at all. So, I went to check on her. Her parents told me that Skye had been gone since that morning, and they thought she’d been sleeping over at a friend’s. I went upstairs to check her room, and there on her bed were the earrings. Laid out neatly, on the perfectly made bed. No Skye to be seen. I picked them up for just a moment, and I heard nothing but screaming.”

When you paused, you were met with silence.

“I dropped them back on the bed. No one’s seen Skye since. I suppose in the end, she really did become food.”

As you ended your story, Leo remained silent. Until…

“Still not as scary as the Gumbus.”

“Oh, screw you! The stock boy industry isn’t even a real thing!”

“Sureee, just go on thinking that.” You flicked his nose - or at least, where his nose ought to be, it wasn’t really the same as a human’s nose.

“I think you’re just bluffing so you seem cool.”

Leo scoffed. “When have I ever done such a thing?”

“That’s rhetorical, right? Because the answer is literally always.”

“Aww, you don’t think I'm cool? My own significant other thinks I’m uncool?” He put a hand over his heart. “I’m hurt!”

“You’ll be more hurt when I rickroll you at 3 AM while you’re asleep.”

“That is the weirdest threat I have ever received. Actually, no, second weirdest.”

•°. *࿐

Approximately an hour later, Leo had fallen asleep against you, still on the couch. You were just about to drift off to sleep, but you were debating with yourself.

Of course, Skye wasn’t real. The story wasn’t actually meant to be the scary part at all.

The ‘scary’ part was that you’d modeled the story on a pair of earrings you had gotten for your birthday last year that you never wore.

Would it be mean to get up and set the earrings on the counter before Leo woke up? You could even hide in your closet.

As you drifted to sleep, you decided it depended on who would wake first.

#tmnt x reader #rottmnt x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader #gn!reader #leo x reader #tmnt leo x reader #rottmnt leo x reader

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hyungieyoongi · 3 years ago

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See You

Pairing: Professor!Hobi x Professor!Reader

Genre: Enemies to lovers + fluff + angst + Hobi and Reader have some personality conflicts at work but should really just make out or something and stop acting like they dislike each other + this entire fic is inspired by Hobi’s look in that gum commercial I mean he screamed professor with that turtleneck and plaid blazer (thank you @moon-write for encouraging this vision)

Word Count: 3.2K+

---

“No, no, please tell me you’re joking,” you groaned, eyes scanning over the classroom assignment list posted on the faculty board in the hallway over again, hoping you were seeing things wrong. A third look at the paper confirmed that your fears had in fact come true – you and Hoseok were teaching next door to each other the entire fall semester.

Hoseok was the History of Dance Professor in your department. He was hired at the beginning of last year, three years into your career as one of the youngest faculty members in the Music & Arts program at your university. While he was bubbly and energetic, you were the more typical academic – down-to-earth, a little bit serious. He was beloved by his students for his positive personality and passion for teaching; you were well-regarded as being a natural talent who wanted to hone your students’ abilities.

It wasn’t that your students didn’t like your course. No, it was well-reviewed and relatively popular considering it was an elective. But once Hoseok arrived, you felt like you were competing with the star of the program. Every student, even the ones who didn’t like dance, were lining up for his course, pushing your class and others into smaller classrooms with dwindling numbers. He, of course, got the large lecture hall this year.

He was the pain in your side, constantly flashing his bright smile to get his way in the department, dazzling your colleagues. Students would often be buzzing in the hallways about how they didn’t have to take an exam in Professor Jung’s class like they did in Professor Y/L/N’s. They got to go to a local show instead and analyze the dance performance. Hoseok was creative and intelligent – that much you could agree with – but you rolled your eyes every time you saw another one of his students attempt to flirt with him.

Hoseok and you figured out you got on each other’s nerves pretty quickly. He would always play music too loud in his office while you were grading papers – he timed how long it took you to show up at his door to tell him to turn it down every afternoon. You would make it a point to have your students play samples of their pieces they’d written on the piano while he was in the middle of a lecture, leaving your classroom doors open so the notes of the instrument would float down the hallway to the lecture hall. You’d have a satisfied grin on your face when you heard the telltale noise of the lecture hall doors slamming shut.

The entire department knew about this little game the two of you would play with each other, not to mention the sarcastic comments from you and teasing jokes from him that were on repeat any time you were in the same room. The bickering was bound to get worse with the two of you in such close quarters all semester.

“Y/N!” you heard a loud voice call down the hallway. You hadn’t heard that voice in two and a half months thanks to your summer vacation. You gritted your teeth, turning with a tight-lipped smile toward your least-favorite coworker.

“Hoseok,” you greeted with a nod. As usual, your semi-chilly behavior toward him didn’t faze him.

“Y/N, come on, I thought I told you to call me Hobi!” he said cheerfully, his eyes squinting from his smile. He was wearing a cream turtleneck tucked into his khakis, plaid blazer over his shoulders. He had dyed his hair from the black you were accustomed to, his strands now a platinum blonde. You realized, begrudgingly, that he looked more attractive than he did last year.

“Well would you look at that, we’re neighbors,” Hoseok said after scanning the list on the board.

“Try to keep the gaggle of screaming fans away from the hallway when I’m teaching, would you?” you said sarcastically. Hoseok’s hand flew to his heart, acting like you had personally attacked him.

“Y/N, I cannot believe you would accuse my students of being so frivolous,” he said dramatically. “Just because we have more fun in my class, doesn’t make it any less serious than yours.”

“Oh, please, save the theatrics for the students who signed up thinking your class would be an easy ‘A’. I know for a fact that you gave out four D’s last semester.” Hoseok’s eyes twinkled at your challenging tone.

“And how many did you give out, Professor Y/L/N?” Hoseok asked in a sweet voice.

“None, thank you very much. Since my students actually learn something in my class, I don’t have to give out such low grades,” you quipped. Hoseok chuckled, running a hand through his wavy blonde hair.

“Maybe I should sit in on one of your classes this year. Learn a thing or two,” Hoseok said, stepping toward you. You flushed momentarily at his low tone, immediately stepping back. He smirked at your reaction.

“It’s invite only to audit my class, Jung,” you said before turning on your heel to walk toward your office down the hall, “I would say I’m sorry, but I’m really not!” you yelled over your shoulder.

You heard Hoseok laugh, and you cursed yourself for giving him the satisfaction of knowing that his teasing had gotten to you.

You had promised yourself at the end of the summer not to play into it this year – you were going to be professional, courteous. But the first time you see Hoseok, bam, it goes right out the window.

You would just have to avoid Hoseok as much as possible.

You sighed once you closed your office door behind you. It was going to be a long semester.

---

Two months into the semester, the leaves had turned to burnt oranges and red, signaling the return of fall. Hoseok was sitting in one of the auditorium seats, his legs crossed over each other, looking down at his fingers with a soft smile playing at his lips. The delicate notes of the piano were playing from your classroom, the noise piercing the thin walls separating your classroom from his.

His class had been dismissed half an hour ago, and, based on the lack of students having straggling conversations in the hallway, yours had, too. He often waited after he was done teaching to see if you would play when you thought no one was listening. The notes you played sometimes indicated your mood; the music was soft and flowing, other times dark and intense.

Today it was, melancholic? He couldn’t quite place it, but it made him think about the change in seasons. He wondered if that was on your mind. The song was fluid, making him want to choreograph a piece to it, the dancer’s body matching the tempo of the music. He shut his eyes, picturing the movements behind his closed lids.

He’d never admit that he indulged in this as often as he did – he knew you wouldn’t be playing if you found out he was your only audience member. You had been avoiding him this semester. He had tried all of his old tricks – the loud music during office hours, teasing comments during staff meetings. But you wouldn’t blink.

He opened his eyes, the song transitioning into something light and happy. It made him think of sunshine.

---

You stopped playing, your hands lifting off the keys like they burned you. You had been playing mindlessly, your fingers starting to pluck away at the keys in the melody that you had thought of when you would think of Hoseok.

The more you avoided Hoseok, the more you seemed to miss his overly positive personality. You would see him at staff meetings, always giving you a big smile. One day you came in late after a meeting with a student ran long, and you came into the room to see that he had saved you a seat next to him, the last one left empty in the room.

He was still playing his music too loud, but you had stopped bugging him about it, and you noticed that it was gradually getting quieter.

You closed the cover over the keys, willing the thoughts about Hoseok to go away, packing up your papers and laptop. He was just your annoyingly happy colleague; there was no reason he should be taking up this much space in your mind.

---

“Are you honestly suggesting that the music composition class shouldn’t be considered a prerequisite for all music program students going forward?” you questioned angrily. You and Hoseok were at a standoff in the department meeting, his normally pleasant features tense, arms crossed in front of him.

“If that means that it prevents funding from getting diverted from the dance program to the instrumental students, then, yes, that is what I’m suggesting,” Hoseok countered.

“That’s ridiculous! Music composition is a fundamental building block for all students – including dance, Jung!” your voice had risen, and the department head looked between you both, deciding that the meeting had gotten too out of hand to continue.

“Professor Y/L/N, Professor Jung – why don’t the two of you take a walk around the building, get some fresh air. The rest of you, dismissed. We’ll resume this conversation, civilly, next week,” the department head declared.

You were fuming, angrily shoving your notebook and pen in your bag before storming out of the building. You felt someone else’s presence, and you turned, groaning when you saw the last person you wanted to see standing behind you, a shit-eating grin on his face.

He opened his mouth to say something, but you held up your hand to stop him.

“Give it a rest, Jung, I’m not in the mood,” you said grumpily.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to go to the bookstore to grab a coffee and put this behind us,” Hoseok scoffed, smile wiped away. “But, I guess not.”

“Not everyone wants to just roll over and play nice when you flash them a smile, Hoseok.”

“Well, not everyone wants to act like they have a superiority complex, either.”

Your lips pursed, hands beginning to fidget with how angry and upset his comment made you. The two of you had been annoying last year, sure, but you had never been mean to each other. Until today.

“You don’t know anything about me,” you said quietly, heated tone still evident despite the low volume.

“The feeling is mutual,” Hoseok said harshly. “It’s not like you’ve even tried to get to know me. You immediately disliked me from day one. You never even gave me a chance!”

“That’s rich coming from you. All that shit with the music and the comments – it’s like you wanted me to dislike you,” you replied.

“I wanted you to talk to me, Y/N,” Hoseok said, exasperated. “Forget it, I can see now that it was useless to try.”

“I was trying to play nice this semester,” you said, glaring at Hoseok. “You came in like a damn bulldozer last year, disrupting everything in the department. And everyone just did what you wanted because you’re ‘mister nice guy’, and you make people laugh and people just think you’re perfect. Well, I don’t buy it.”

You took a deep breath, leveling your gaze at him.

“Stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours,” your voice was stone-cold. Hoseok’s eyes flashed, lips in a thin line before he responded bitterly.

“Perfect.”

---

Things had been quiet between you and Hoseok since your fight outside of the building a few weeks ago. You politely nodded at each other in the hallway when you passed by, avoiding eye contact. You would grimace when you heard his laugh during lectures next door to yours, wanting to block the sound out.

You couldn’t get what he said to you out of your thoughts – you really didn’t know Hoseok very well. All you knew is what he presented to the rest of the world. He was bubbly and positive and optimistic; he probably thought you were just some brooding, academic stiff.

Hoseok noticed the songs you were playing lately were rather intense. Sometimes he would hear you smash against the keys like you were angry with the piano for not producing the sounds you wanted to hear.

He knew the feeling. He was spending more time in the dance studio lately, dancing aggressively to loud hip hop music, trying to drown out the frustration he was feeling at not being able to make you crack and talk to him.

That’s where he found himself tonight, trying to get rid of his stress. You were stubborn, but you were also beautiful, intelligent, passionate, tenacious. He turned his music up louder, drowning out the thoughts of you.

---

You had re-read the same sentence four times, red pen poised in your hand ready to edit the student’s paper. The loud beats were still audible from the practice rooms. It was late, and the building had been closed to students for the past two hours.

You decided to go down there. You weren’t going to get them in trouble for staying past close, but with finals coming up, you were sure the students needed a gentle reminder that sleeping was just as important as practicing.

You walked down the dark hallway, going down the steps to the practice rooms on the floor beneath the faculty offices, finding the one with the light on, music blaring through the glass panes separating the space from the hall.

You glanced into the room, seeing Hoseok dancing. You had never seen him in his element before, and it was captivating. He was wearing a black pair of sweats, an oversized yellow t-shirt adorning his slender frame. The music seemed to be moving through his body. He was grounded in the floor, an intense expression on his face as he hit heavy movements on the beat, fluidly moving through other parts depending on the music. You felt like this was personal, like you weren’t allowed to be watching, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him.

Hoseok looked into the mirror, his eyes looking toward the shadow in the hallway. His eyes met yours, his gaze burning into yours through the glass. You gulped.

He turned, grabbing a bottle of water and pausing the music. You figured that was your cue, opening the door to the studio and stepping inside.

“Was it too loud?” Hoseok asked, voice light despite the obvious tension in the room.

“No, it’s okay uh – I was grading papers, and I thought a student was still down here,” you explained softly. “I thought I’d tell them to go home, get some rest.”

Hoseok had a curious expression on his face. If he was surprised to hear why you were down here, he didn’t mention it. You felt the need to fill the silence, so you spouted the first thing that came to mind.

“You’re really talented, Hobi,” you said quickly. His eyebrows shot up at the sound of the nickname you never called him. “Hoseok – sorry, I meant Hoseok.”

“Watch out, people might think we’re friends,” Hoseok joked, but it came out strained.

“Hoseok – Hobi. I’m sorry about what I said a few weeks ago. I was heated, and I apologize,” you said, looking down at a scuff in the hardwood floors.

“I’m sorry, too. What I said was uncalled for, and I didn’t mean to upset you. Last year, this semester. Anything I’ve done that has made you mad or annoyed. I’m sorry,” Hobi said sincerely. “I-um, well…”

You looked up, waiting for him to continue.

“I just wanted your attention.”

“What?”

“I wanted your attention. I wanted you to want to talk to me. I wanted you to get to know me. Not the version of me that I show my students. I wanted you to see me. Really see me.”

You gulped, Hobi’s vulnerability making you nervous. He took a step toward you, and you willed yourself to stay in place.

“I know you do the same thing; you hide. Hide behind this persona you’ve created. I think it goes away when you play piano.”

“How do you–what do you mean?” you asked incredulously.

“I hear you play. After class. I never told you because I selfishly wanted to keep listening. Your music it – it tells a story. About your day, your feelings. If you didn’t tell me yourself, at least your music did.”

Your cheeks burned knowing that he was audience to all of the time spent in your classroom, working out your feelings on the piano like it was your therapy.

“Everything goes away when I play,” you stopped, thinking about how distracted you had been lately trying to compose. “Well, most of the time, anyway.”

“That’s how I feel when I dance,” Hobi admitted with a gentle smile. You nodded, realizing that the two of you had this in common, at least.

“I’ll leave you to it,” you said, backing away from Hobi toward the door.

“Wait –,” Hobi said, slightly flustered. “Dance with me.”

Your eyes widened. Hobi laughed, and you hated to admit that you had missed the sound.

“Come on, just trust me, Y/L/N.” You waited while he picked out a song, holding out his hand. You placed your fingers in his, and he pulled you close to him, leading you around the studio floor to the song. He made you feel light on your feet despite your lack of dance experience, his hand tightly gripping yours, his other floating over your waist. Your skin tingled from the contact.

He spun you around twice, your hands landing on his chest as you tried to regain your balance. You looked up at him, genuinely enjoying yourself. His bright smile you used to roll your eyes at lit up his features, causing your smile to match his.

“Can you see me now, Y/N?” Hobi asked, referencing his earlier confession. “Because I see you when you play. When you tell a student crying in your office that everything is going to be okay. And I see you now when you’re dancing with me like this.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Remember when you said I didn’t know anything about you?” You nodded, recognizing his reference to your fight outside of the department building. “I don’t think that’s true. But I know there’s so much more to know. And I want to know everything.”

Hobi’s hand came up to your cheek, softly placing it on the side of your face.

“I want to know you, too, Hobi,” you whispered.

He leaned forward, his breath fanning over your lips, “Want to start now?”

You gripped his t-shirt in your hand, pulling him the last few inches to your lips instead of answering. You felt him smile against your lips, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close to him.

He pulled back, his forehead resting on yours as you caught your breath.

“Does this mean I can start playing my music loudly during office hours again?” Hobi teased, his fingers playing with the hem of your sweater, brushing against your skin.

You made a face at him, causing him to laugh. He kissed you on the forehead, then on the lips again to make you smile before answering.

“Not a chance.”

---

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bvidzsoo · 4 years ago

Text

Late night Drifts

Author: bvidzsoo

Warning: physical abuse (nothing descriptive); swearing

Pairing: Hansol Vernon Chwe x female reader

Word count: 18, 157

Summary: Being top of your class was everything your parents have ever wanted. You were the perfect daughter, however, it was only them who were happy. Your life was stressful and filled with sleepless nights studying, just to please your parents. Until one day you discovered racing, and realized, it was the only way you could unwind all the accumulated stress. And it just so happened that one day you overheard your classmate, Vernon, talking about an illegal race taking place that night. You knew it was your cue, so with rolled up cash left on his desk, you made it clear you were challenging him. He wins = he gets a date / You win = he teaches you how to drift.

A/N: Hello, hello lovelies! And off we go with the first part of this series! I tried out something different this time, I hope it’s not weird and it’s still good, I’m a little nervous about it tbh. All the sentences in italic are the reader’s direct thoughts! I’ve never written in second person before so uhm...I hope it’s still fine. I hope you’ll like it and please let me know your thoughts. If there are people interested, I could even start a Taglist, I guess! Enjoy now!

Series M.List ~ Next Part

When younger, you’d quietly complain to yourself about having to wake up early in the morning, around 6 am, just to have breakfast with your parents; but as the years passed it just became a routine. You weren’t bothered by it anymore, sometimes, you’d even wake up earlier than you were supposed to. Like today, at 5:30 am, your eyes were wide open as you stared up at the platinum white ceiling of your huge bedroom. You knew it was the anxiety making you feel like this, the fear of having to face your father and mother today seemed to be more intense than usually, after all, you were getting your grading sheet at school. You hated days like today, you hated getting your grades. It was horror to sit through school, anxious, only to return home to get yelled at by your father, because once again, you failed to score higher at English than Vernon. Vernon Hansol Chwe. He was your nightmare at school. It wasn’t what he did directly to you, because there were almost little to no incidents, it’s what he indirectly made you go through. You hated him, but didn’t at the same time. It wasn’t his fault, and you were aware of that, but you couldn’t help the glare or sudden anger that engulfed you whenever you looked at him. If he only wasn’t as good at English as he was, all the torment from your parents would’ve been non-existent.

You were the perfect daughter, the one every parent wished to have and every parent praised whenever they met up with your parents and you. You were perfect, in their eyes, yes. You always listened to what your parents said, you didn’t talk back or disobeyed them, and most importantly, you always pleased them and got high grades. It would’ve been a shame if you didn’t, your father was a scientist and your mother a doctor. They wanted you to become either this or that, but you, you didn’t know. You had no idea what you actually liked doing, you never really had hobbies or free time to try out different things like any other normal kid did while growing up. That is, until, you stumbled upon some abandoned race tracks and saw a woman in her car going at a high speed, drifting around the curbs, and sporting the happiest and most careless expression you’ve ever seen on someone’s face. It struck you, you never felt like that before. You wanted to feel like that so badly. You just ran away from home, with the excuse that you joined a new study group to help you out with Chemistry, but the truth was that you just needed air and time away from your overwhelming parents. You weren’t even supposed to be in this part of the city, people could smell from miles away that you were rich and just by stealing your purse, they’d make millions. But you didn’t care, because in this part of the city, it seemed like people only stared at your for what you looked like, without too judgmental looks on their faces. It was weird, but refreshing. After the woman stopped, got out of the car and ruffled her long hair, you gathered all your courage and walked up to her, and asked her to take you on a round with herself. She was reluctant, but once she saw the desperate look in your eyes, she obliged and you were inside her car, screaming your lungs out at all the sharp and harsh turns she took. It was scary, but freaking awesome. You felt high on adrenaline and when she stopped the car, her name being Lexa, you begged her to teach to drive like that. Your driving instructor never taught you about speed, but this woman seemed to know it all. Lexa was reluctant, but she complied once again, when she saw the desperate look in your eyes. And that is how you became obsessed with racing, cars, and chasing that adrenaline that made you feel free and careless. It was the only hobby you had, the only thing your parents couldn’t control in your life, simply, because they didn’t know about it. And you preferred to keep it that way, knowing well the repercussions if they ever found out. But for you to be able to attend the events and races, you needed a good car. So, when you finished last year as first in your whole high school, your father granted your wish and bought you a Vaydor G37. The car was expensive, but freaking awesome. You knew you’d be better than half of the amateur racers, even though, you were one too. But for now, that didn’t matter, as you played with your fingers in your lap, waiting for the maid to place your breakfast in front of you. You could feel your father’s sharp gaze on you, but you ignored it as you glared at the table. Your mother hadn’t joined the table yet, that’s why you weren’t eating yet.

“John told me he had to change the tires to the Vaydor,” You looked up to meet your father’s gaze, knowing he hated it when you didn’t, “It’s the third time this month. Explain.”

You gulped, but kept your expression neutral, he can’t find out, “I didn’t pay attention when I got them changed and instead of the summer tires, they put on the winter ones. That was the first time. Second time, I got a puncture while I rode back home from school, a screw was left on the road from the new construction site and I didn’t know. And uhm…I’m not sure what was wrong the third time, but the vibrations coming from the tires felt wrong, I thought…it would be best to get them changed.” But the truth was that you raced too hard and burned out your tires, all adherence gone, which made it impossible for you to ride around the streets with them.

Your father didn’t say anything as he looked at you with a hard expression, tying to decipher if you were lying or saying the truth, “Safety comes first, Y/N, don’t forget that.”

“Yes, father.” You muttered and looked up at your mother as she walked in with a wide smile. Your father looked at her and his eyes instantly turned soft and he waited until she sat next to him, to press a kiss to her cheek. He was only ever like that to her, kind and lovely, never to you. You honestly thought your father hated you because you weren’t born to be a boy, like he so desperately wanted. Yet, he never tried to have another child with your mother, you figured he had enough of you and just didn’t want to bother with raising another kid. Your mother looked at you just as the maids finally walked in with your breakfast, placing the plates in front of you. Your stomach rumbled quietly and it made your mom chuckle as your father took the first bite, and then you both followed suit. It was the same old breakfast: toast with boiled eggs, a few slices of tomato and butter. Sometimes you’d get hot cocoa, if your father was in a good mood, but most of the time you were served with orange or apple juice. Today, water with lemon was served and as much as you were craving the taste of oranges, a little switch from your usually boring routine was nice, even if so small and almost insignificant.

“When will you know your grades?” Your father asked again, voice hard and you bit your lower lip as you lowered your knife and fork.

“Today, actually.” You answered, trying to hide the tremor in your voice, but it was pretty obvious.

“Great, I will make sure to come home early then.” He said and the grip on your knife tightened as you tried to hide the anger and fear mixing together in your stomach, hating the words your father said. But it made your mother squeal as she smiled at him brightly.

“That’s amazing news, honey! Let’s go have dinner, shall we?” She was the only excited one, your father actually started glaring at you, and you realized it was because you were glaring at him. Sometimes, your control over your body slipped and you did things subconsciously.

“Yes,” Your father spoke, turning his head away from you to look at his wife, “Let’s go have dinner, Y/N should—”

“I have a study group at 18:00 today, I won’t be able to join you, I’m sorry.” You interrupted your father, not caring right now that he hated being interrupted by you, as you let your parents know in a hurry that you weren’t available today. And actually, you weren’t even lying. You really did have to study for English, you hated to say it, but you were feeling uneasy after your last exam and thought you could work on it. A new guy from America showed up two weeks ago, DK, and when you heard he offered to help out those in need, you knew you needed to sign up. Vernon was from America too, that’s why you never could beat him, he was better as he was fluent. Your mother was American too, but she never bothered to teach you much English, either too busy with work or with your father. She wasn’t a bad mom, just neglectful sometimes.

“You study so hard, my dear.” Your mother’s arm extended over the mahogany table and you extended your own arm, letting her grip it, “How about this…if you get a good grade for your English exam, we go on a small vacation this weekend?”

That actually sounded wonderful, you couldn’t help but smile, warmness filling your insides. You missed spending time with your mom, but of course, your father had to ruin it all.

“We shouldn’t…I can’t this weekend.” Of course, he couldn’t. The only important things for him were work, antagonizing you, and taking your mother on expensive dates.

“Honey,” Your mother let go of your arm to cup her husband’s cheek, “It’s not a crime if the two of us spend a little time together, it’s been long since we had a mother-daughter get-away, right, Y/N?”

You quietly nodded your head, hopeful that your father would let it slide this time, but of course, he wouldn’t, “If Y/N scores a 10/10, you can go.”

You gulped, hating how trusting your mother’s gaze was, how happy she looked, “Of course, honey, she’ll definitely get the highest score. She’s our daughter after all…”

Yes, unfortunately, I’m your daughter.

After breakfast you quickly got dressed for school, your uniform still warm from getting ironed a few minutes before you had to put it on. You hated wearing skirts to school, but you had no other choice as it was in the dress code. You fixed your hair and painted your lips a soft pink, smiling to yourself in the mirror. Not because you were happy, but because you didn’t want everyone to see how miserable you were. You didn’t have any friends; besides Yoona, you didn’t want any more rumors than the ones already circulating around you. They said all kinds of things about you, but neither was true. They weren’t necessarily bad, besides the one calling you a freak and saying you broke someone’s hand in your freshman year; you didn’t. But people weren’t very fond of you nonetheless and you didn’t want to add onto the list of why you should be more disliked than you already were. You knew the smile looked far from genuine, but it was better than nothing, it lessened the harsh expression of your face. It probably got like that due to your father’s constant pressure hanging over your shoulders.

The car ride was silent, John stirring up casual conversation with your father from time to time, as he drove you to school before driving your father to work. Your car was still in the car-service, actually, Jihoon got a new engine that you were more than happy to test out for him. He was the one who approached you, surprisingly, after your first won race. He said he liked your car and could smell the money from miles away; he offered to help out with your car if you raced on his behalf from time to time. You seriously didn’t need the money, but it sounded like fun and it was weird how impressed everyone was by Jihoon talking to you, so you accepted out of curiosity. It took you a month to realize he was part of the Lee family, being the eldest son actually, and that they owned the streets at night when racing. He truly was the best, both at racing and fixing cars. Sometimes you’d even drop off cash anonymously at his house, when you wouldn’t need it anymore, and you had a feeling he knew but stayed silent about it. Both of you knew that he needed the extra cash from time to time.

Your attention was brought to John when he stopped the car, unlocking the doors. You were parked at the front gates of your high school, you sighed as you grabbed the doorhandle of the car. Partially you were happy to be here just because you would be away from your father and mother.

“Y/N,” Your heart jumped to your stomach when your father called out your name, deep voice booming in the car, “If you don’t score 10/10, I will have to believe you are incompetent and unable to perform well in a private high school. If you don’t raise your score by the end of the semester, your name will be cut from the family tree and I will throw you out without a second thought.”

A cynical smirk appeared on your lips as you opened the door and turned to look at your father, “You can’t throw out a minor, father, unless you want me to go to the police and press magazines. I’m sure they are buzzing to know more about the mysteriously wealthy and handsome Mr. Seo, don’t you think?”

His jaw clenched and John gulped loudly, shaking his head as subtly as he could at you, as you hurriedly got out of the car. You never talked back to your father, you had no idea what came over you, but you felt so fed up with his threats. If only he knew cutting ties with him sounded like heaven to you. You didn’t care if you ended up on the streets as long as it was away from him, you were never hungry for money or greedy for it. You didn’t care about it, you just wanted love from the two figures who were supposed to raise you. Instead, one hated you and the other one was barely ever home.

“Have a good day at work, both of you.” You bowed deeply before closing the door of the vehicle, staring at the tinted window of the backseat. You waited until John drove away and you couldn’t see the car anymore. A strong gush of cold wind suddenly blew through the area and it made you realize that you were glaring at nothing, once again. You hated how little consideration he took of your feelings and how little he made you feel. Your father truly was the devil.

Yoona’s schedule was rather packed on Monday’s and Wednesday’s, so you couldn’t meet up with her during classes. Which maybe was a good idea, poor girl, you hoped she didn’t think you only used her to have someone to complain to, but you seriously had no one else to talk to. You loved Yoona and how open she was and ignorant to the rumors about you, she was always quick to shut others up. She was only a year older, yet she felt like a mother to you sometimes.

The day passed by incredulously fast and you made sure to take notes in each class, until it was homeroom class time. Your legs were bouncing up and down nervously and loudly as you tried not to bite your nails, a bad habit you were trying to get rid of. Usually, you weren’t this nervous, but your father reminding you of his threat this morning and your reckless answer made you realize if you indeed didn’t score 10/10 at English, you were truly fucked, and you hated the sudden ache of your stomach. It seemed like you were the only one so stressed out as your classmates kept shouting around you, joking and chatting, making your ears ring. All you could do was stare at the door anxiously, waiting for your homeroom teacher to enter this damned classroom already. But the bell didn’t even ring yet, it’s still break time, you sighed and bit your lower lip, trying to calm your nerves. You didn’t mean to, but your eyes fell on a boy and your eyebrows instantly furrowed. His right arm was resting on his desk, his right cheek on it as he slept. He looked so peaceful and carefree that it angered you more. How could he just sit there, sleep there, when you were about to get your grades? You knew he didn’t give a shit about his grades, yet he was always top of your class, breathing down your neck all the time. When you started high school, you never thought you’d meet someone almost as smart as you, and that you’ll be challenged. But Vernon…he just wrecked your life and made it a bigger hell than it already was, and tears almost came to your eyes as you couldn’t look away from his peaceful form. You were jealous and angry, wishing that could be you right now. As your eyes lingered on him, you realized, his cheekbones were high and sharp, almost hollow looking like. You hardly ever paid attention to guys, you didn’t have the time nor energy to put into them, but sometimes you caught yourself dozing off and staring at the back of Vernon’s head. He wasn’t special, far from it, he looked quite normal yet his beauty felt a little foreign, compelling. That was another reason to hate him for, and you never thought more of it, content with the current thoughts of him. You didn’t like him, but you didn’t deny that he was somewhat attractive either. Yet, your heart still started thumping quickly when Vernon’s eyes opened abruptly and made eye contact with you almost instantly, as if he knew you were staring. You averted your eyes and straightened your stance, refusing to look back at the boy, even if he continued staring at you. You never really spoke to him, you didn’t have a reason to, only greeted him in the mornings if you arrived after him…but you did greet everyone, after all. Your legs started bouncing again as Vernon wouldn’t look away and it made the hairs on your arms raise, your anxiety doubling. Why is he staring now? Does he think I like him or something? Maybe he knows I don’t like him? But your attention was brought back to the door as it opened just as the bell rang, and your homeroom teacher in walked. The voices in the classroom started dying down and even Vernon looked away from you, siting up straight in his chair. You were glad, you didn’t think you’d be able to ignore him for longer if your teacher wouldn’t have walked in. You donned out every voice that was still speaking, you even ignored your teacher’s usual speech about how grades weren’t important and that they didn’t actually reflect your knowledge about life…if only he knew what he was speaking. So, you just sat there silently, anxiously waiting for your sheet.

Which turned out to be more and more difficult as you were amongst one of the last ones, for once, making you hate the fact that your family name was ‘Seo’. You have successfully eaten three nails by the time your teacher called out your name and you raised from your chair, legs feeling a bit like jelly, as you rigidly walked up to his desk to take the sheet from him. Your hands shook and you hoped no one noticed, but when you turned to walk back to your seat, you were surprised to see Vernon squinting his eyes at you as he was watching you, once again. Did I draw too much attention onto myself by looking at him? This wasn’t the first time though, why is he suddenly so attentive of me? You ignored his burning gaze as you finally started walking back to your seat, gripping the sheet tightly in your hands. You were curios but also afraid to look. Vernon got his sheet a while ago and you tried to read his expression, but he only shrugged and placed the sheet between his notebooks, seemingly unimpressed. You were hopeful it was because he scored lower this time, but you couldn’t be very sure, he reacted the same way each time.

Finally sitting in your own chair, you took in a deep breath and opened the sheet, staring at the names of the subjects and then the grade next to it.

“Don’t forget kids, I tell you this each time, but I feel like saying this again. Grades don’t define us and you can be whoever you want to be in life, or do whatever you want to do, despite the grades on that paper—”

Your whole body ran cold as your hands started shaking hard, chest constricting as if your lungs stopped getting enough air to be able to function. Your eyes ran over and over again the same row, your brain refusing to acknowledge the information. English: 9,55. You hated what you were seeing, you hated what your teacher was saying, you hated how carefree and light everyone around you seemed to be, you hated Vernon’s gaze burning into the side of your head. You suddenly couldn’t bear sitting in that classroom anymore, it seemed rowdy and hot, your head started pounding painfully as you jumped up from your chair, knocking two notebooks and your sheet off the table. All the eyes on you made your chest tighten further and your eyes snapped towards your teacher when you heard him calling out to you.

“Miss Seo, is everything alright?” You really wanted to answer him, but when you opened your mouth to say something, nothing came out. Embarrassed and unable to take the looks you were getting by your classmates, Vernon’s confused gaze, you stepped around your chair and took off, uncaring of the repercussions. Your teacher called out your name once again, sounding more worried this time, and you glared at Vernon when he still didn’t look away, knocking onto his table on purpose, which made his pencil case and notebook fall to the floor. And with that, you were out of the classroom and running towards the girls restroom, hearing footsteps following you hurriedly. You knew your teacher sent someone after you to make sure that you wouldn’t do anything reckless, and it made you want to cry that your own teacher was more worried about your wellbeing than your own parents. You hoped the person realized you ran out because you wanted to be alone, and that they wouldn’t follow you inside the restroom, and when they actually didn’t, you broke down crying in front of the mirror, turning on the faucet to silence your sobs a little bit. I don’t want to go home.

You hated the looks your classmates were giving you after your breakdown, but some were nice enough to check up on you. You didn’t like the attention and the fact that you had to lie to them, but it warmed your heart a bit that not everyone was heartless and mean to you. You were surprised to see your things neatly placed in your bag after you returned from the restroom with a girl, Hanna, who your homeroom teacher sent after you to keep you company until you felt better. You wanted to ask who did that, because you wanted to thank them, but decided to stay quiet and just lay low for the rest of the day as rumors of you already spread through school like wildfire. You hated it, but you tried to ignore them…and Vernon too. He shot you a questioning gaze after you got back to class, but you acted like he wasn’t even there. Your gut was telling you that it was him who gathered your stuff from the floor and placed it back into your bag, but why would he do that? You were never very nice to him, and you even knocked his stuff off on purpose when you ran out. Fed up with your constant thoughts of Vernon and what others would say now about you, you blocked everything out and hurriedly gathered your things once the final bell rang, signaling that school was over for the day. You were glad that you could finally leave this place, but your stomach ached when you remembered you had to return home, to meet your father. Running away right now sounded like the smartest thing to do, but once you left your high school, you stopped and looked up towards the sky. The sun was high up and shinning down, creating a warm atmosphere and you looked around to observe that everyone seemed to be in a good mood. Kids were laughing and hanging onto their friends as they groaned about how hard school could get, others kids were excitedly talking about what homecooked meal their mothers made, and some were just hurriedly leaving through the gates. You smiled, but it was a sad smile, because you never experienced any of those feelings. You wished your mother would be at home, waiting for you with a homecooked meal, and that your father would arrive earlier from work and praise you for your grades, deciding to take the three of you out to the arcades. But those were dreams you’d never experience, and rather than continuing to hurt yourself with such fantasies, you took off with a sigh. You followed the path that lead to the iron gates of the high school and bowed your head a little to greet the gatekeeper, who was happy to see you. Not many kids were respectful toward the old man, but you didn’t think lower of him just because of his job, sometimes you’d sneak cookies from home and share them with him. As the weather was a lot warmer than in the morning, you took your scarf off and gasped when something hit your shoulder. You were expecting someone to be picking on you, but when you turned your head and looked at the girl leaning against the stone wall, you let a chuckle fall from your lips.

“I told you to throw your garbage in the trash cans, Yoona.” You scolded the older girl, picking up her cigarette butt to throw it into the nearest trash can later.

“Yeah, whatever,” Yoona rolled her eyes, lighting another cigarette, “What the hell happened today? Your crazy classmates wouldn’t stop talking about how you stormed out after you got your grades.”

You grimaced as you leaned against the stone wall next to your friend, “I didn’t get a 10/10.”

Your answer was direct and Yoona sighed, glancing at you as she puffed out the smoke of her cigar. She knew about your parents, but not the whole truth. She only knew about them being obsessed with your grades and that they were very controlling and harsh to you. You didn’t dare tell her the other things, afraid she’d do something about it, getting you in more trouble.

“Oh, Y/N…” Yoona’s expression was sad and you melted into her hug as she put her arms around you, on the verge of crying, “If it feels too much later on, call me…or come to the races with me, you don’t have to compete or anything. Just be there.”

You hummed and circled your arms around your friend, feeling a bit better as Yoona’s familiar perfume entered your nostrils, “It’s a Wednesday, you know I can’t go out…and I have an English tutor now, we are meeting later for our first session.”

“Oh, really?” Yoona’s interest peaked as she finally pulled herself away from you, patting your cheek, “Do I know him?”

“Maybe, it’s this new guy from America…calls himself DK.” You muttered, puckering your lips at the hilarious name he went by. Yoona’s expression hardened and she scoffed as she finished her cigar, not looking very pleased.

“You know him?” You asked curiously, Yoona not being one to dislike someone.

“Of course,” She rolled her eyes and pushed off the stone wall, dragging her leather jacket tightly around her body, “He’s in my class. He’s very annoying, tries hard to befriend everyone and won’t shut up. He’s not even smart, most of the time only says stupid things—”

“Okay,” You raised up one hand to stop Yoona from rambling, throwing her an amused smile, “What did he do to you that you don’t like him?”

Yoona just rolled her eyes, displeased by how much you knew her already, “He’s all up in my business, won’t leave me alone after he heard me talking to my friend from the U.S. Fucking idiot…”

You started giggling loudly, making Yoona glare at you, but your laughter was contagious and she ended up giggling too, “You’ll figure it out, Yoona.”

“Yeah…hopefully before Johnny decides to smash in his nose.” Her tone turned sour and you gave her a pitiful look, knowing her relationship with Johnny hadn’t been the best lately. Yoona just sighed and you patted her side, reassuring her that you were there for her if she needed someone to complain to. The sudden sound of engine roaring caught your attentions and Yoona turned stiff, looking to the road, where a black car pulled up. The window rolled down and Johnny’s face came in view.

“Speaking of the devil…” You muttered quietly, making Yoona smirk at you.

“Hello, ladies.” Johnny greeted the two of you with a charming smile and Yoona looked at him before back at you.

“Want us to give you a ride home?” You appreciated her offer, but you didn’t know if your dad was already at home. He didn’t mind Yoona very much, he knew her parents, but he hated Johnny and actually forbid you from meeting up with him or with them when they were together. You didn’t want to test the waters furthermore today; you had already done enough in the morning and now with your grade too.

“No, no,” You shook your head quickly, declining her offer nicely, “You can go. I have to pick up some books either way, you don’t have to bother with me…”

Yoona nodded and took off towards her boyfriend’s car, but when she opened the door, she turned back to look at you and mouthed, “Liar.”

You chuckled and waved at them as Johnny gave you a nod before pressing a strong kiss against your best friend’s lips, leaving her with a sour expression as he rolled the window up and took off, the engine of the car creating disturbance to the pedestrians. You looked down at the other cigarette butt Yoona dropped and picked it up with a sigh, dropping it into your pocket, where the other one was. She never listened to you when you told her to throw them away into a trash can, so it became by now a routine to pick them up and throw them away yourself. You took off once again, headed home for real this time, your stomach churned nervously as you played with the cigarette butts in your pocket. Your parents knew you didn’t smoke, they stopped checking up on that since you turned sixteen, so you weren’t afraid of smelling like it. Besides, they knew most kids your age smoked and that it could just easily get into your clothes and hair when you walked by. You sighed at the thought of your parents and tried to enjoy the sun on your skin, welcomed after the cold winter you had. It was hard to walk home, because you were anxious, but the pleasant weather made you slow your usual long strides as you passed the corner of the high school and turned onto the next street. You took the two cigarette butts between your fingers and threw them into the trash can on the side walk as you walked by it, your scalp feeling itchy. Sometimes you made your ponytail too tight and it left your scalp sore, so you quickly undid the tight hold, releasing your long black hair. You thought of cutting it, it was slowly nearing the middle of your back, but your mother said a feminine woman needs her long hair, that it’s precious, and you should never wear it too short. That’s why your hair always reached your scapulas or even longer. I always wondered how I’d look with short hair…it can’t be that bad, right? Your thoughts were interrupted when you suddenly became aware that someone was walking right next to you. You became stiff and ready to speed up, uncomfortable, but when you stole a glance at the person walking next to you, your feet came to an abrupt stop. So did the person, who was scratching his nape awkwardly, looking at your guiltily.

“Uh, sorry.” Vernon’s voice was loud here, the cars and people walking by you were being loud, “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t scare me.” You answered him too quickly, body stiff as your eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, still…” He cleared his throat and you became curious, he never really spoke to you directly, unless you were paired up for a group project during class, “I just wanted to ask you…”

You raised your eyebrows, curiously looking at Vernon, a little annoyed that he was stalling, “What?”

“Are you alright?” Your eyebrows furrowed at his question and you glanced around, feeling uneasy. Why is he suddenly so curious about how I feel? It’s really not his business.

“I’m fine, why?” You snapped, crossing your arms in front of your chest in a way to show him you weren’t too fond of this conversation.

“Just wanted to check up on you.” Vernon muttered as he kept looking at you, the sunlight lighting his features. His skin had a warm glow and he was squinting as he was standing facing the sun, his brown eyes were lighter than you had anticipated them to be.

“Well…” You cleared you throat, feeling a bit flustered, “You didn’t have to.”

Vernon hummed and nodded his head a little, biting his lower lip, an action which caught your attention, “I know…you ran out of class and you didn’t look too good. Just wanted to make sure you’re better now—”

Your inhale was sharp and it alerted Vernon as your eyes snapped back up to look him in the eyes. Your heart was beating like crazy and you knew your face turned hard as Vernon gulped; you took a step to lessen the distance between the two of you, “Stay out of my business, Vernon, you already make my days a nightmare as they are.”

Vernon’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, clearly taken aback by your threatening tone and sentence, not having expected such hostility coming from you. After all, he never did anything wrong to you…directly. He looked lost for a second, you felt bad for being so mean to him, but before he could form a sentence, you turned and rushed away, willing yourself to catch the green cross light, which would turn red by the time Vernon realized you were running away and would stop him from following you. Your heart was beating fast as you turned to look back, to see him standing at the cross dumbfounded, his eyebrows furrowed as he raised one hand as if to ask you to wait for him. You were pretty good at reading people; you had anticipated his moves. You shook your head at him and took off, Vernon losing sight of you in the mass of people walking on the sidewalk.

You were studying in your room when you heard the front door open and slam closed. Your hands suddenly started shaking as your mother’s laughter carried through the big apartment you lived in, your father’s voice next as he answered her question. You dreaded this moment, you knew it was coming, but you were hoping it would come later. You knew your father was expecting you in his study, so, you rose from your desk and pulled your hair in a low ponytail. You glanced at yourself in the mirror and hated your expression; anyone would be able to see how scared you looked. You started glaring at yourself, trying to stop this horrible feeling brewing inside you, as you pointed a finger at yourself in the mirror.

“Stop it!” You snapped at yourself quietly, “Whatever happens, happens. Walk out there with your head up and don’t say anything unnecessary!”

When you heard your mother’s heels clicking getting closer and closer, you quickly grabbed the sheet and hurried to your door, opening it just as your mother raised her knuckle to knock.

“Y/N!” She exclaimed with a wide smile and placed her palm on your cheek, “Looking pretty today, how do you feel?”

You remained expressionless as you looked at your mother, jealous of her good mood, “Fine, I’ll go see father now.”

“Oh, right!” She exclaimed again and stepped out of your way, shooing you away, “We are supposed to leave in thirteen minutes for our date, don’t keep him up! Also, we should look for some vacation cabins in the mountains for our get-away—”

“We are not going anywhere!” You snapped and turned your head to look at your mother, jaw clenched. How could she not pick up on my mental state? How could she not read my expression when I’ve been hers for seventeen years? When she was my mother?

“Oh…” She cleared her throat, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, “Why…”

“I didn’t get the grade.” You muttered and sighed, taking off towards your father’s office. It was on the other end of the apartment and you had time to even out your expression and calm your erratic heartbeat for at least a while. When you stopped in front of the big, black, door you took a deep breath and ignored your mother, who was headed to their shared bedroom, and knocked on your father’s office door. There was a grunt coming from inside and you knew it was your cue to walk in, so, you opened the door with more force than needed and walked in, leaving the door open. He hated it, but you felt like you’d need to escape tonight, it made you feel safer. Your father glanced at his door and then at you before leaning back in his chair with a sigh. You didn’t sit as you came to a stop in front of his desk, just reached your hand out for him to take the sheet. He nodded once and took it, eyes running over the paper. Your heart started beating quickly once again and you clasped your hands behind your back to stop yourself from biting your other nails you didn’t get to in school. Involuntarily, your left foot started tapping against the floorboards of the office and you gulped as you looked straight ahead when your father’s eyes fell on you.

“What did I say?” His voice was hard, sheet crumbled up in his hands. Don’t answer him, let him scream at you, “I thought I was clear.”

When he fell silent you didn’t know what to do or say, so you just let your head hang low, avoiding eye contact with your father, “You are telling me that you’re unable to get a 10/10 at English? When your mother is American?! Is your brain perhaps too little for you to comprehend what you have to learn?! Are you dumb, Y/N?!”

That felt like the last straw. I’m not dumb, I’m more competent than you once were! Your eyes snapped up to meet your father’s, your glare melting into his, “How am I dumb? I got a 9,55, father! And I got a 10/10 at everything else! I’m top of my class and high school! What more do you want?!”

Your voice broke at the end of the sentence, and your body shook, you have never raised your voice at your father. He looked shocked for a second, but in a second also, he was up and storming around his desk to reach you.

“You ungrateful scum!” He shouted loudly, his deep voice made you jump, “I feed you! I give you money! I buy you clothes! I put a roof over your head! And this is how you pay me back? By talking back and thinking you are better than me?!”

“When did I ever say that—” The words died in your throat as the back of your father’s palm slammed into your cheek harshly. Your eyes widened as your head snapped to the other side, tears instantly sprung to your eyes. You remained like that, unmoving and quiet, fighting with your tears. I’d rather die than cry right now. Your father scoffed and you felt the sheet hit your head as he threw that at you as well, as he turned away from you.

“You have three months to fix your mistakes, Y/N. After that, I will not see you anymore in this house.” You gulped at his words, straightening once he walked away and you knew he wouldn’t hit you again. You remained in front of his desk as he walked towards his door, about to get changed for his date with your mother. A broken chuckle left your lips as you looked up at the ceiling, one single tear rolling down your cheek. Better make his life hell in those three months!

“I can’t wait to leave this fucking hell!” You hissed, unaware that your father didn’t leave the room yet. He hesitated taking his next step as he looked back at you with furrowed eyebrows, taken aback by your words.

“I wish I was never born into this fucking family.” At this point, you didn’t even care if he was still standing in the doorway or not, it just felt good to speak your mind aloud. You wanted to shout at the top of your lungs for your parents to hear what you had to say. You wanted everyone to know. I hate them. Your father gulped as he took one final look at you, his jaw clenched, before he shook his head and walked away with a scoff. All he could think of was that you were a spoiled, ungrateful brat. Meanwhile, all you could think of was the day you’d finally be able to run away. In three months, you’d turn eighteen, school would finally end, and you’d leave this shithole you hated with your whole heart. Screw them both, who gives a fuck about them anyways?

That night you went to bed crying, which resulted in having a puffy face once you woke up. Your study session with DK wasn’t very successful and once he realized you just weren’t in the right state of mind to study, he dismissed you and set another appointment for next week, saying your English was almost better than his and that you didn’t even need tutoring. You knew that, but you were hopeful that if DK helps you out, on your next exam you’ll get a 10/10 just to spite your father before you move out. While crying, you have decided, that no matter what, in three months you were out of that place. You didn’t want to stay there anymore, you’d rent out a small apartment downtown, find a job and finish your last year of high school. You knew your mother would secretly support you and give you enough money to survive for months, but you didn’t want anything that was theirs anymore…especially their money. When you looked in the mirror to get ready for a new day, all you could do was sigh. Your eyes were big and red and you knew you’d have to spend half an hour just pouring cold water on them to make the swell go away. But when you pulled your hair in a bun, you knew the greenish-bluish bruise on your right cheekbone wouldn’t go away with cold water, you had to put on makeup. This is why you didn’t tell Yoona exactly everything about your family, especially your father, she would’ve reported it without a second thought. You disliked your parents, yes, but they were still your parents. Right now, they were everything you’ve got and you could make them suffer in different, much more effective ways. You decided to let your hair rest freely today, knowing it would offer more cover for your cheek, even if the expensive foundation and color corrector did their jobs fairly well. At breakfast you didn’t speak at all to your parents and you refused to ride with John and your father to school, taking the bus instead as you were running late a bit to be walking. You were in a bad mood all day and everyone could see it, even Yoona, who was a lot more cheerful than yesterday. She promised to hang out with you at lunch break and you were thankful, you felt like you needed to be in her presence today. Vernon was becoming plain annoying with his constant staring and his attempt to talk to you in one of the short breaks you had between classes, which alerted everyone from your class. You threw him a harsh glare and he understood that you wanted nothing to do with him, so he went back to his desk and left you alone for the rest of the day.

You were fixing your makeup before the lunch break arrived, your geography teacher let you off early today, as you stared into your small pocket mirror. You pulled your hair behind your ear as you took out the little cushion and started tapping it lightly against your cheekbone, not much of the foundation had come off, but you wanted to be sure. Especially since you were having lunch with Yoona. As you stared at yourself, your eyes looking lifeless, your ears picked up a loud voice greeting someone from your classroom. You looked up, curious, and your eyes fell on Vernon’s table. A darker blonde-haired boy, quite scrawny looking with dirty clothes, was leaning against Vernon’s desk. He looked younger than the two of you, maybe he was your age, but his complex gave him a boyish look. Vernon looked panicked as he stared at the boy, pinching his ear and making the boy cry out. A few of your classmates glanced at them, but no one seemed as invested and curious as you were. Vernon looked like he got caught doing something illegal, it definitely picked your interest. In your mind, Vernon was this perfect boy, perfect student, whom never did anything bad. Seeing that look on his face, you placed your mirror down on your desk and sneakily continued to watch them.

“Hyung, I’m just here to tell you something important!” The young boy exclaimed annoyed, earning a few more confused looks as he wasn’t wearing your high school’s uniform…or any for that matter. Is he not in school? He seems very young however…maybe he just skipped classes today? Vernon’s eyes widened and accidentally connected with yours and you quickly looked down, absentmindedly flipping through your long-forgotten fashion magazine. You felt his gaze remain on you for a few more seconds before it was gone; you peaked up at them to see the younger boy hunched over Vernon’s desk as he was articulately whispering something. Now, that made you even more curious about what they were speaking, and you looked back down at your magazine. A model you didn’t like had their picture on the page, so, you gripped it and tore the page out, crumbling the paper up. There, this should do for a good excuse to pass by them. You cleared your throat, feeling like you were about to commit a felony, and checked if anyone was watching you, but no one was. You hummed to yourself and looked around, trying to look innocent as you started slowly walking towards Vernon’s desk. Your heart started beating faster as your grip tightened on the paper and you slowed down even more once you could hear the boy’s high-pitched voice.

“Hyung, I’m not kidding! They said they’ll pay really well!” Pay well for what? Your eyebrows furrowed as you became intrigued, eager to find out more.

“I’m not racing against Jun anymore, why can’t you understand that?!” Vernon snapped quietly; his eyebrows were furrowed as he was glaring at his desk. The young boy sighed loudly and you actually stopped walking, standing just two feet away from them. Jun? Vernon is racing? Is this what I think it is?

“Come on, hyung!” The young boy whined and you jumped when something crashed in the back, the paper falling from your grip, “It’s tomorrow night, on a Friday, your mom won’t be pissed if we go racing—”

“Shut up!” Vernon’s voice was hard as you made eye contact. Your face must have said it all because Vernon didn’t look pleased, you heard something you weren’t supposed to. You cleared your throat and walked to the trash bin, feeling the little smirk creep onto your lips. Vernon races? How come I’ve never seen him before? Your thoughts became a whirlwind as you turned to walk back to your desk, eyes falling onto Vernon. He was glaring at you and suddenly you felt powerful, like you were in control of this situation. Vernon was racing Jun? Last month I beat Jun…that means…I can finally beat Vernon at something. You were suddenly pleased and even your mood got better, something you weren’t expecting to happen anytime soon. You didn’t have to think twice as the bell rang signaling it was time for lunch break. The young boy hadn’t left yet and it looked like Vernon was scolding him as you reached inside your backpack and felt around it. You gripped your sandwich first and then the cold rolled up material. You took both items out and your lips widened into a big smirk as your eyes fell on Vernon, who was busy talking to the boy. This is it. I can finally show him he isn’t better at everything. He’s not rich, I have a Veyron, it doesn’t matter what car he has, I will beat him without a doubt. You took off, gripping your things tightly as you were headed straight towards Vernon’s table. Him and the boy stopped whispering when they felt your presence behind them and they turned both to look at you. You slammed the big roll of cash on Vernon’s table, making their jaws drop as the young boy looked back at you as if you grew two heads out. You felt powerful and proud, so, with a wink directed at the young boy you brushed past him to find Yoona and enjoy your lunch with her. You knew Vernon understood your message.

Classes passed by quickly and you were buzzing to get out of school, for once not even having thought of your parents since the incident with Vernon. You wanted to talk to him, but not at school, you didn’t want your classmates to start more unwanted rumors about you or Vernon. You might dislike him, but you didn’t want to drag him into unnecessary drama. So, you told Yoona that tomorrow you were going to the races and she was excited, telling you she’d be there too with Johnny and his crew, and that she’d cheer for you. She was proud of you and amused at the same time, she knew you disliked Vernon, so she understood how much this meant to you. It was childish, but Yoona didn’t judge you for it, even cheered you on, she could see something was wrong today. So, when you left the school gates, you walked down the street after you promised Yoona that she could drive you home tomorrow, and you turned the corner. You knew Vernon walked this way to get home, so you leaned against the stone wall of the school fence and took a deep breath in, suddenly confused why your heart was beating so fast. Am I nervous because I’m about to see Vernon? No, that’s stupid, I don’t have a reason to feel this way around him. You stood up straight when Vernon rounded the corner and his eyes fell on you, narrowing dangerously as he approached you. When he stopped in front of you, he remained silent and you rolled your eyes, opening your mouth to speak.

“I’m sure you know what I meant by that…” You trailed off and Vernon nodded wordlessly, “I’m challenging you to race.”

“I know.” Vernon nodded again, his voice seemed to be a lot deeper right now, and you didn’t even realize it when you blushed.

“I heard some rumors…” You started, trying to remain confident under his sudden intimidating gaze, “About a guy called Vernon who drifts better than Lee Seungkwan, is that you?”

A smirk appeared on Vernon’s lips and your eyebrows furrowed when your heartbeat picked up again, suddenly you felt hot standing under the sun, “It is me.”

You didn’t like the look on Vernon’s face, you felt like he knew he was making you flustered, so you took a step to be closer, “Well then, here’s my proposal…I win, you teach me how to drift. You win, I’ll go on a date with you.”

I can’t believe this is the proposal I’m making, I sound stupid. How do I know he wants to go on a date with me? Now I’m just blindly assuming and insinuating that he might like me, oh no…Your cheeks warmed up again and you hated the way Vernon started laughing, his mouth opening and showing his teeth.

“How do you know if I want to go on a date with you?” Vernon raised one eyebrow and you rolled your eyes, trying to mask your initial panic.

“Call it a hunch,” You answered back with a smirk, trying to fake your confidence that suddenly decided to disappear, “are you in or not?”

Vernon remained silent for a few seconds as his eyes ran over your face, his features softening. You bit your lower lip, feeling nervous all of a sudden as no boy looked at you like that before.

“I’m in.” He extended his hand for you to shake and you looked down at it, hesitantly shaking his hand. His grip was strong and warm, his palm surprisingly soft as it caressed yours, it was so much bigger. Your cheeks burned again and your eyebrows furrowed as you became angry at yourself and pulled your hand away, throwing Vernon a small glare. He seemed amused as you turned and stormed off, completely missing the smitten look Vernon was giving you.

You woke up feeling excited, which was a foreign feeling, as you usually dreaded having breakfast with your parents. Last night you tried to nurse the bruise on your cheek with ice and ointment, but the colors were still there and you had to cover it with foundation once again. You let your hair hang freely once again and once you were dressed; you went out to have breakfast. Your parents weren’t in the dining room, so you headed to the kitchen, surprising the maids, and asked them to let you have breakfast there. They were hesitant but didn’t try to argue with you when they saw the genuine smile on your face; they could see how your mood was strangely good today and decided not to ruin it. After that, you skillfully creeped around the apartment, making sure to avoid your parents as you headed for school, your long strides taking you to school quickly. Yoona and you got there at the same time so you asked her to take you to Jihoon’s car-service after school, she said she’d drive you home today after all, as your Veyron was ready to be picked up for tonight’s race. Vernon seemed to be smug as he offered you a few smirks here and there throughout the day, and when you returned from the restroom, you found a protein bar on your desk. Confused, you looked around and watched your classmates, who weren’t paying much attention to you. Vernon wasn’t in the classroom and you sighed, about to sit, when Hanna waved her hand at you. You raised your eyebrows at her in question and she just pointed at Vernon’s table before at the protein bar. You understood what she tried saying and with red cheeks you slumped into your chair, crossing your arms in front of your chest. Your gaze fell on the protein bar and just as you poked it annoyed, Vernon walked in with two of his friends and his eyes fell on you. You threw him a glare and hid behind your long hair, refusing to let him see the blush on your cheeks, I blushed enough yesterday. His ego didn’t need to be further fed. You found it amusing how sure he looked of himself, you knew he was convinced that he’d win tonight, but you also knew he’d be a sore loser. You haven’t seen many people with expensive cars at the races, even if the engine is the one that counts, your Veyron just naturally was faster and better than most cars they owned. It was why you were able to win so many races until now and why Jihoon approached you in the first place. He was excited to see the new engine he installed in action tonight, he would sell it for big money if you win.

Your parents were still out on their date when you left the apartment, you didn’t have to worry about them seeing you dressed ‘like a hooker’, as they called this style. It wasn’t even anything bad, just leather pants and a strapless crop top and your leather jacket. You wore your thick, plain, platformed boots so that you’ll seem taller but be able to drive at the same time. Once you got to the garage you smiled pridefully at your car as you unlocked it. You really loved the car; it was your most prized possession as it brought you many victories so far. Once you turned the car on, goosebumps appeared on your arms at the roar of the engine. It was humming loudly and it shook your car in the best way possible as you carefully drove out of the garage. You turned on the radio and chuckled when Yoona’s favorite song came on, rolling down the windows to let the chilly air of the night fill your car. You pulled your hair in a low ponytail so that it wouldn’t accidentally get in your face and disturb you, you were aware of what you did was dangerous. You were careful as you drove down the illuminated streets of Seoul, making sure you wouldn’t exceed the speed limit. Wouldn’t want to make your father hate you more and take your car away. You’d get there at least fifteen minutes earlier, and you’d lie if you said your stomach wasn’t whirling around due to nervousness. You gripped the wheel tightly as you shook your head, passing by a green light, trying to clear your mind. This really isn’t the time to be nervous about something that I will most definitely win. The engine change wasn’t very obvious, your car was actually a bit slower, but it still flew down the streets if you pressed the gas pedal. Jihoon assured you you’d definitely win, even with the slight change, and you promised to give half of the profit to him. Tonight, he was making good money, people would flock to him to buy this new engine which to them seemed like it was as fast as an original Veyron engine, people were easy to fool. You drove through downtown and past some warehouses, music getting carried to where you were currently, even though the meeting point was one block away. You slowed as you turned the next corner and shut the lights of the car off as the street was illuminated well enough by the lampposts but the reflectors brought by the people here too. The street you were on was a very long streets, on both sides were abandoned buildings, and cars were parked close to those building to leave space for the circulating cars, and people, to pass by. You honked softly and the mass of people in front of you started fleeing out of your way, creating a straight path for you to the start line. You slowly rolled by them, the loud music coming from different car speakers could be felt even in your car, you picked up on the slight vibrations. People who knew you greeted you with grins and tapped your turquoise car, becoming excited when they saw you weren’t about to park anywhere. They knew you were racing tonight and as you arrived to the start line, people started cheering your name. You started laughing as you turned the engine off and got out of your car, grinning at the people surrounding you.

“There you are!” Yoona exclaimed as she leaned against the front of your car, arms crossed in front of her. You chuckled and approached her, draping an arm around her shoulders.

“Did you think I’d miss tonight?”

“Nothing’s ever sure with you…” She was right and you rolled your eyes, having missed races not once because of your parents being home. They didn’t know what you did in your free time, but sometimes they’d forbid you from spending your Fridays out, even though you always said you were sleeping over at Yoona’s.

“Did you see Vernon?” You asked as you looked around, unable to see anyone familiar in the huge crowd around you. Butterflies in your stomach made you rub your tummy as you pouted and Yoona started laughing loudly.

“Don’t tell me you’re nervous?” Her eyebrows raised and you decided not to look at her, “And no, I don’t even know if he’s here. Maybe he chickened out—”

A loud roar of an engine made Yoona’s words unable to be heard and you whipped your head around, eyes falling on a red Honda Civic Type R. The windows were tinted and you couldn’t see inside, but you knew it was Vernon, no one else was racing beside the two of you for the next twenty minutes. Yoona’s eyes widened just a bit as you both watched Vernon get out of the car and you were confused when two blondes ran up to him squealing.

“Oppa!” They chorused and your face distorted into disgust as Yoona burst out laughing, leaning back as her head was thrown back. You looked at her, expression still the same, and it made her laugh louder and harder. Your eyes fell on Johnny, who was smirking, as he started approaching you, his eyes falling on Vernon.

“Brought along your Barbie dolls, eh?” He tapped Yoona’s thigh as he walked past, headed for Vernon. The two blondes clung onto Vernon’s arms and you finally looked at him, taking in his attire. He wore ripped jeans and a form fitting navy green blouse, a leather jacket keeping him warm from the chilly air. A few chains hung around his neck and his dark hair was pushed back. You were surprised to see Vernon dressed like this; you didn’t think his style would be like that. You’ve only ever seen him in his uniform and some loose gym clothes. You gulped and Yoona nudged you, eyes squinted.

“Stop staring at him, you’re making it very obvious.” She muttered as she leaned down as if she was about to whisper something to you.

“What?” You asked confused as you turned your head, Vernon just shook hands with Johnny, and you then looked back at Yoona.

“That you like him.” Yoona’s words hit you like a truck and you couldn’t help the very loud scoff that left your lips. Is she crazy? I like Vernon? Where did she get that from?!

“Did you take something before you—”

Yoona threw you a warning glare and you didn’t finish your sentence as you knew better, but your attention was back on Johnny and Vernon, it looked like they’ve known each other for quite a while as they talked casually.

“Taking her out for a tour?” Johnny asked with a grin as he placed his hand on Vernon’s Honda. Vernon nodded and untangled himself from the two blondes, a smirk appearing on his lips. Your stomach did a somersault and you gasped quietly, confused as to what that feeling meant and why you only ever felt so flustered around Vernon. Yoona can’t be right…

“Nah, I’m here to claim my prize.” Vernon’s eyes fell on you and your back straightened as you quickly smoothed your expression into a neutral one. You knew your cheeks were still burning, but it was so chilly outside, one could blame it on that. You chuckled as Johnny looked at you too, seemingly having realized Vernon was racing you tonight.

“I don’t know man,” He said with an amused smirk, patting Vernon’s back forcefully, “I’ve never seen Y/N lose before in that car.”

You couldn’t help but notice the slight envy that slipped into Johnny’s tone and it made you smirk; you always knew he wanted your car. He was pretty pissed when you refused to let him drive it, you weren’t about to let a lunatic wreck your precious car. If something happened to it and you’d had to tell your parents it was Johnny’s fault, you were sure you’d never get to see the daylight ever again.

“You’re still in, right, Chwe?” You raised your eyebrows mockingly and Vernon scoffed, opening his door.

“Why don’t you sit inside your car so that we get over with this?” You chuckled and pushed off your car, Yoona following suit as Johnny walked up to the two of you, grabbing Yoona’s nape. You watched as he stared her in the eyes, eyes narrowing the slightest at her, and Yoona’s jaw clenched as she waited patiently for Johnny to stop. You hated when he did that, tried dominating Yoona or got possessive to the point of hurting her, so you ripped your car door open and pressed down on the honk harshly. Both of them jumped and Johnny looked at you with a glare.

“Move along, dickhead, I haven’t got all night.” You snapped at him and he chuckled, releasing Yoona, who looked thankful as she pushed Johnny slightly back and walked away while shooting you a finger heart.

“Don’t crash.” You rolled your eyes at Johnny’s words and got in as he walked to the side where Yoona stood, circling his arms around your best friend’s waist. Out of nowhere, Jun showed up, holding a checkered flag. You closed your door shut and put on your seatbelt, melting into your seat. Vernon’s engine roared to life and you were quick to do the same, Jun having come to a stop between the two cars.

“You know the drill,” Jun shouted over everyone’s voice, “You’ve got 400 meters, whichever finishes first wins and gets the money.”

Vernon reeled his engine and you just smirked; eyes fixed on the checkered flag as Jun raised it. You always concentrated, how you start, is the most important thing. You can’t lose seconds and you have to be faster than the other one, it gives you already a very small but significant advantage. You gripped the gearstick and the wheel with your other hand, ready to shift it into drive. You hated how your eyes had to take a glance at Vernon and it annoyed you even more when you realized his eyes were on you. What if Yoona is right and I do like him? I do feel flustered around him. Isn’t it just because he makes me angry? A few days ago, I was convinced I hated him with all my heart. What is it that I truly feel for him then? Jun’s hand with the flag dropped and you shifted the gearstick just in a second, your foot pressing down the gas pedal. You didn’t look anywhere else as your car came to an abrupt start, the safety belt cutting into the exposed skin of your collarbones and your eyebrows furrowed as your car picked up speed in just seconds. Everything became a blur around you, all you saw was the finish line that was still far away, but you were getting closer and closer. You didn’t know where Vernon was, but having not seen him pass you, you believed he was still behind somewhere. Your stiff body almost felt relaxed, despite the contraction of your muscles to keep the car going in a straight line at such high speed, and your mind was silent. You didn’t hear anything, the radio was always off when you raced because you wanted to hear the engine, and your labored breathing felt almost relaxing. You felt in control and free, a small smile slipped onto your lips when you noticed Seungkwan standing on the side with a big checkered flag, flapping it around above him. You were close, just a few more meters. Your engine cried loudly as you pushed the gas pedal for another boost of energy, your car crossing the finish line before Vernon’s could. You let go of the gas pedal and hit the brakes, your car coming to a stop slowly but surely. People flooded around your car and your head rested on the head rest as you closed your eyes, surprised by how fast your heart was beating. Adrenaline always flooded your veins, but never this much. You opened one eye and glanced to your left, but Vernon’s car was nowhere. It confused you as you turned the engine off, undoing your seatbelt. People were cheering for you, your name leaving their lips as they tapped your car in congratulations, and you gripped the door handle to open it. Just as you pushed it open, it was pushed back closed and your eyebrows furrowed, until Vernon’s face popped up. He motioned with his finger to roll down your window and you did, still looking at him confused.

“What are you doing?” You asked, your voice loud, as Vernon threw the cash back at you, making it land in your lap.

“I lost,” His tone was hard and he looked displeased, “but you knew I would, so take your money back.”

You rolled your eyes and gripped the cash, raising it up between your faces, “I gave it to you regardless of the outcome, our deal was about something else—”

“I’m not your charity case!” Vernon’s voice turned harsh and you raised your eyebrows at him, finding it weird how pissed he suddenly was, “I’ll meet you tomorrow at noon at the abandoned sandy tracks half an hour from here. Don’t come with the Veyron, it’s not a car for beginners.”

You opened your mouth to snap at him that you weren’t a beginner, but Vernon turned around and stormed away, pushing people out of his way. You turned your head to see where he was headed, and you found his car just a few meters away from the finish line, 100 meter between yours and his car. What a dick.

The revving of the engine was a sign that you were doing something wrong and out of anger, you hit the brakes harshly, sending yourself and the person sitting in the passenger seat forward. Your heart was beating fast as you gripped the steering wheel with both hands, your skin melting into the material of the wheel. The seatbelt was cutting into your skin too and your jaw clenched when a chuckle came from your right. You knew Vernon was smirking in amusement, very pleased to see you fail once again. You thought you’d learn how to drift quickly and easily, but here you were, almost two hours later, barely being able to make one right turn. You didn’t know what it was that made it so hard, it couldn’t have been Vernon’s Honda, you’ve driven cars like his before thanks to Jihoon; you really didn’t understand what was the matter. I can’t believe I’ve been embarrassing myself for the past two hours. A sigh left your mouth and you glanced at Vernon, who’s right arm was perched on the windowsill and he had his smirk still on.

“You suck at teaching,” You had to say something to save yourself from further embarrassment, “That’s why I still can’t do it.”

It was so amusing to Vernon that he started laughing, his mouth widening and his teeth showed. Your heart only seemed to pick up its rhythm and your eyebrows furrowed as you harshly shifted the gear to start doing another round.

“Hey, hey—” Vernon was quick to notice your change of demeanor and your fingers tightened around the shift stick when he gripped your hand, “I think we had enough for today, Y/N…especially my car. I can’t have you burning down my brakes, sorry.”

“If you’d let me come with my Veyron you wouldn’t be here complaining—”

“And risk wrecking that car?” Vernon’s eyebrows shoot up and you looked at him, his hand was still on top of yours as if he forgot it there, “Hell, I bet your parents don’t even know you race…I for sure would bite my kid’s head off if I found out they raced with a car like yours—”

“Yeah,” You snapped, eyes blazing as you glared at Vernon, what does he know about me, “That’s why they don’t know. Let go of my hand now and tell me where to drive.”

Vernon gulped and if you weren’t so angry, you probably would have blushed at his reaction. He looked down at your hands as if he realized due to your words it was still on top of yours and he quickly placed it in his lap, clearing his throat as you looked away, “I’m quite hungry, let’s have lunch.”

“Just tell me where you live and I’ll call John to pick me up—”

“No!” Vernon’s voice rose a bit and you looked at him surprised as you were driving away from the abandoned race tracks, “I mean…come have lunch with us. My mom knows where we are and she’d be really pissed if I didn’t invite you for lunch…”

Your heart started beating fast again and you bit your lower lip, trying to ignore his words and the temptation to say yes, “I can’t stay.”

“Please—”

“No.” Vernon knew it was final and that he couldn’t try convincing you anymore, but he really wanted you to stay. He was amazed by you, truth be told. He didn’t know what was so attractive about you, because you might have been beautiful, but he never really cared much about looks. Something about the way you would always look at him, he felt some hidden feelings that you desperately tried to hide from him and yourself as well. He knew you had something with him personally, he didn’t understand why, but he hoped one day you’d have enough courage to tell him. It was the only reason why he never tried getting close to you, he was afraid honestly, that you’d reject him in a very unpleasant way and he wanted to save himself from the heartbreak. He didn’t even know you raced, he never heard of your name being gossiped at the races, however, he did hear something from Chan, who worked for Lee Jihoon. But you weren’t the only girl who’s name was Y/N, he couldn’t just assume so boldly. As you focused on the road, on driving back towards the main roads, you failed to notice Vernon’s intense gaze analyzing your every movement, expression. Your bruise had faded nicely, after icing it non-stop when you were home, but you could still faintly see it. So faintly, that one would have to be really close next to you to see it, or so you thought. Vernon clearly saw it and just as he opened his mouth to question what it was, you sighed.

“Yesterday…” You started quietly, your muscles having eased now that you were just driving around casually and Vernon wasn’t touching you, “I feel like I insulted you…”

Vernon’s eyebrows furrowed as he watched you, pointing towards a street, to which you turned, “Insulted me?”

“With the money…I didn’t want to make it seem like I was—”

But Vernon didn’t want to hear it, because quite frankly, he wasn’t insulted at all last night. He was pissed, because you won. And that was only because he really wanted to go on that date with you. However, now that you’ve been alone in his car for almost two hours, he didn’t seem to mind it that much, “I wasn’t insulted, Y/N. I know you are rich and that I have less than you, but it didn’t mean anything to me.”

Your eyebrows furrowed and once again followed Vernon’s instructions, which lead to a quiet side of the city, “Why were you so angry then?”

“I was frustrated, not necessarily angry.” Your lips pulled up into a smile and you glanced at Vernon.

“I probably should have warned you I drive a Veyron—”

“I heard Jihoon sold your engine.”

“It wasn’t mine. He bought it and wanted me to show it off so that he could sell it for more.”

“Smart.”

“I know.” You found yourself glancing at Vernon with a smile, which he returned, as he pointed towards a house at the end of the street. It was a dead end, and theirs was the last house. It looked normal size, white, and had a nice front lawn. You didn’t think Vernon was poor, but the quality of the house surprised you. It had a refreshing look and definitely looked cozy just from the outside. You parked the car in the driveway, like Vernon instructed, and turned the engine off. You both undid your seatbelts and got out of the car; your eyes glanced towards the house. The window on the second floor was opened and loud music was blasting through it. A smile had pulled onto your lips without realizing and Vernon cleared his throat to get your attention.

“That’s my sister…she’s a bit loud sometimes.” You nodded as your eyes fell on Vernon, who’s hands were in the pockets of his baggy jeans, it weirdly looked good on him. Vernon’s style surprised you. It looked really cool and was actually very fitting for him, now you realized. It would be weird seeing him now in his uniform, knowing his preference in clothes.

“I’ll call John—" But just as you grabbed your phone from your jacket, the front door opened and a middle-aged lady walked out, hands on her waist.

“Look at you two!” She exclaimed in English and your lips instantly pulled into a smile, her accent sounding an awful lot like Vernon’s, “I thought you’d never come home. Come on!”

Vernon grinned at his mother and took off, but you remained put, “Uh, ma’am I’ll be calling my father’s driver to pick me up.”

“Non-sense!” Vernon’s mother’s eyebrows furrowed as she stepped down a few steps, “Hurry up inside, I just finished the soup.”

“Ma’am, I really can’t stay for lunch—”

“Vernon, go get her!” And before you could disagree more, his mother walked inside, leaving the door open for you. Your eyes fell on Vernon and you shook your head, about to dial John’s number. I really don’t want to be here right now. My father is already pissed enough at me, I shouldn’t miss lunch today…especially since we are meeting with his business partners.

“If you don’t have lunch with us, mom won’t let me help you tomorrow or next week.” Your eyebrows furrowed at Vernon’s words and you looked down at your cellphone, hesitant to put it away. Would it really be so bad if I stayed? It’s just one lunch. Besides, I most definitely don’t want to meet Mr. Kim’s son, he’s too rude for my liking. You rolled your eyes and put your phone on ‘do not disturb’, putting it back inside your jacket’s pocket as you followed Vernon inside the house.

The house on the inside was exactly how you imagined it to be. Walls white with big windows to let the natural light inside and everywhere you looked, you saw family pictures. It seemed like Vernon’s mother really liked flowers too as you could find them in every corner of the house. There was a scent of homecooked meal and it smelled so much better than the one coming from your maids at home. It was a lot warmer inside than outside, so you decided to get rid of your jacket too after you left your shoes in the doorway. You’d usually wear flip flops at home, but when Vernon gave you none and instructed to just go straight ahead while he went upstairs, you didn’t say anything about it. You watched Vernon hurry up the stairs as you walked down the hallway, humming coming from where Vernon instructed you to head towards.

“Oh, good!” It was his mom, once you stepped inside the kitchen, the scent of homecooked food was stronger. The kitchen wasn’t very big, just enough for a few people to be inside, but when you looked to your left you noticed there was a dining room, the young boy from school was there actually. He was sitting on a chair, one foot up on the chair next to him as he watched something on his phone, picking his nose in the process. It was a sight you weren’t expecting, such a normal sight you never got to see at home, that it made you laugh. You actually started laughing so hard it alerted the young boy, who’s cheeks became pink and he shoot you a glare.

“Chan,” Vernon’s mom sighed as she glanced back to see what was so funny, “He was picking his nose again, wasn’t he?”

You only nodded as you tried to stop laughing, the boy actually got up and walked towards you with a small glare. You weren’t aware that Vernon had a brother, besides, this Chan boy looked nothing like Vernon or his mother.

“I’m Y/L/N Y/N by the way,” You spoke up as Chan stopped beside you, squaring you up with his eyes, as you watched Vernon’s mother.

“Yes, Vernon told me who he was going with. Wasn’t expecting a girl to want to learn how to drift.” Chan scoffed next to you as he offered you his hand once he was done taking your form in.

“Lee Chan.” You shook his hand and narrowed your eyes at him, “And Mrs. Chwe, I told you women like to race. Sometimes there’s more of them at the race tracks than men.”

“He’s not wrong.” You approved of his words, looking back at him, “You’re not related to the Lee family, right?”

“Do I look like I am?” Chan had a sharp tongue and you scoffed, watching him brush past you, “Let me put the plates, Mrs. Chwe.”

“You should be studying, Chan, dear.” Chan just rolled his eyes as he opened a drawer and pointed at the cutlery and motioned for you to take them. You grimaced at him but proceeded to help him out, it was better than standing awkwardly in the kitchen and doing nothing.

“Studying is a luxury that I can’t benefit of.” Your eyebrows furrowed as you walked alongside Chan to the dining room, setting the plates and cutlery on the long table.

“What do you mean?” You asked quietly, noticing one plate missing.

“I don’t have enough money to go to school, Y/N.” Chan answered with an impassive voice, but you couldn’t help and notice the yearning behind his words.

“How old are you?” You found yourself asking again, something tugging at your heartstrings. Am I feeling bad for him? He deserves to have part of education like everyone else. He seems like a quick-witted boy.

“Sixteen.” Chan muttered and brushed past you as he headed for the door of the kitchen. You looked at Mrs. Chwe as she brought the pot of soup to the table, still steaming as it had been recently finished. She had a sad expression as she heard your little exchange with Chan and it suddenly all made sense. He’s here because they are taking care of him. I don’t know his home situation, but if Mrs. Chwe took him in, it must mean that he wasn’t living well before at all.

“Vernon! Sofia!” You jumped at Chan’s shrill voice and Mrs. Chwe chuckled, taking a seat at the head of the table.

“Sit wherever you want,” She offered you a smile and you chose to sit on her left, the cushion was soft underneath your bum, “Can’t believe my son just left you to yourself, where are his manners.”

“It’s alright, Mrs. Chwe.” You reassured her, sitting patiently as Chan chose to sit across from you. You internally cursed and hoped that Sofia would take the seat next to you, but you didn’t have that much luck. As the girl came into view, she raced Vernon and jumped into the seat next to Chan, leaving Vernon with a glare directed at her. You looked at Vernon and tried to keep a neutral expression, knowing all eyes were basically on the two of you. His black hair was dripping still and he had changed from the clothes he was wearing earlier today. He wore black sweatpants and a tight white t-shirt, which made your heart beat faster. You never noticed that Vernon had muscles before and you were praying to all Gods that you wouldn’t blush upon seeing the way his t-shirt sat tightly against his chest.

“Finally,” His mother said with a sour expression and Vernon chuckled awkwardly, taking his seat next to you. You tensed up when Vernon’s knee knocked into yours underneath the table and Chan just randomly chuckled, making everyone look at him.

“Nothing, sorry!” He quickly dismissed it and greedily grabbed for the ladle to pour soup into his bowl. Vernon kept his eyes on Chan and the younger boy tried to mask his chuckle with a scoff. It was weird but you said nothing as this seemed to be normal for the other people sitting at the table.

“I’m Sofia!” Your eyes fell on the girl sitting next to Chan and you offered her a genuine smile.

“I’m Y/N.” She grinned back at you and stole the ladle from Chan, elbowing him when he filled his bowl to the brim.

“I love this soup, stop it!” He exclaimed loudly and scooted his chair away from the girl, throwing daggers at her.

“You won’t leave anything for us!” Sofia fired back and you sat quietly, your body once again relaxed. Vernon’s hands on the table kept clenching and unclenching and you stole a glance at him, he was watching his sister and friend’s banter with a glare.

“Stop it, kids,” Mrs. Chwe intervened and took the ladle from Sofia once she was done, “You always serve the guest first.”

“It’s alright, don’t worry!” You quickly dismissed her words, offering her your bowl when she raised her hand, “You don’t have to change your habits just because I’m here.”

Vernon’s mother smiled as she handed you back the bowl, “You seem to be the most well behaved here, my dear.”

Your cheeks became hot and before you could dismiss her words, Chan erupted into giggles, “Of course, Mrs. Chwe! Can’t you smell the richness? I could, even from miles away—” Before Chan could finish his sentence, he cried out and jumped a bit, glaring at Vernon, who was glaring at him back. You looked at Vernon and saw how his jaw was clenched and his mother sighed, taking her son’s bowl to pour some soup for him too.

“Rich or poor, Chan, in this house it doesn’t matter, yes?” Her voice was scolding and Chan grew smaller in his seat, as if he realized he wasn’t at his real home here and apologized quietly. Once you started eating your soup, you remained quiet and listened to the casual conversations from around. It wasn’t because you had nothing to say, it’s just that habits are hard to change, and at your house no one spoke while you ate…well, sometimes your mother would, until your father would reprimand her for it. You smiled softly when Sofia talked about her recent trip with her friends to a resort not far from the city and felt a bit bad when Chan confessed that he wouldn’t be going home this month either. You didn’t know his story, but it was obvious how much it bothered him that he couldn’t be there. Vernon answered his mom when he was asked something, but otherwise remained silent like you, stealing glances that you obviously noticed but ignored in order to stop yourself from blushing.

“Did Vernon manage to teach you something today, Y/N?” Mrs. Chwe asked you just as you finished eating and your eyebrows furrowed.

“He tried to…” You muttered and subconsciously threw a glare at Vernon, “But I didn’t do much.”

“You aren’t bad though.” You scoffed and whipped your head towards Vernon, for a second forgetting that it wasn’t just the two of you there.

“Saying that now to seem nice, huh? Who are you trying to impress?” Everyone remained silent at your snappy tone and you grew embarrassed, realizing you were acting out again. It was just getting to you. The atmosphere at the table, how nice everyone was to everyone, how Mrs. Chwe seemed to know her kids and didn’t even have to ask them because she already knew what bothered them. Even Chan was treated well and Mrs. Chwe was babying him, offering him more soup once he was done even though he probably couldn’t eat more. It was obvious that everyone was cared of and loved. Hearing Mrs. Chwe calling you ‘my dear’ wasn’t helping with the void you felt in your chest. It was making your stomach ache when you thought of going home after this, after the picture of a loving family was now forever imprinted into your mind. How were you not supposed to hate Vernon now? He isn’t just perfect at school; his whole life seems to be perfect. Everyone loves him and Chan even looks up at him, Sofia seems to love to tease him and no one seems to be always pressuring him. How am I supposed to look at him without envy?

“I’m sorry, that was rude.” You apologized quickly, realizing you’ve stayed quiet for too long.

“Don’t worry, my son isn’t perfect.” Mrs. Chwe’s words were so contradicting towards your thoughts about him, “Whatever misunderstanding you have going on, I understand. Just solve it quickly so that you don’t stay with a grudge.”

“A misunderstanding even I don’t understand.” Vernon mumbled underneath his breath and you looked at him, eyes widening just a little bit. Now you felt worse and you sighed, pushing your hair behind your back.

“Oh, dear!” Everyone looked at Mrs. Chwe surprised, she was looking at you with her eyebrows furrowed, “What happened to your face?”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you touched your face with both hands, looking at Vernon out of reflex since you knew him best from the table, to see if he could see something wrong. His eyes looked into yours for a second before they fell on your cheek. Your heart seemed to come to a stop before it sped up dangerously and you just cleared your throat.

“I’m clumsy sometimes,” It was a script you memorized a long time ago, “I have a cabinet in my bathroom that’s around my height and sometimes when I wake up, I’m dizzy and happen to run into it. That’s what happened.”

Everyone but Vernon seemed to buy it, Sofia even laughed, “You should be more carefully, why did you even put the cabinet there?”

“I wasn’t the designer of the apartment.” You joked with her, throwing Vernon a confused glance as his right leg was moving up and down fast, like when you were anxious. Chan and Sofia giggled as Mrs. Chwe stood to gather the bowls.

“Put some ice on it, it’ll go away.” Her voice was soothing and you felt like her, too, knew your story was a lie; but you decided to ignore it and thank her for lunch once again.

“When is Mr. Chwe coming home?” Chan asked as he stood to help Mrs. Chwe take the bowls to the sink. He saved your curiosity and you were happy that he asked before you could.

“I don’t know,” Vernon answered with a shrug, leaning back in his chair, “He took some extra shifts.”

“Yes, because you just had to buy that expensive car to race with.” Mrs. Chwe snapped from the kitchen and you looked at Vernon.

“I’ve been earning more money ever since, mom. You can’t say I’m not trying to help you.” Vernon got defensive, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Your eyes fell on the contracting muscles and you gulped, reaching for your glass to drink some water. Sofia smirked but looked at her phone when she saw you throwing her a questioning glance.

“As if we weren’t in debt before.” The woman sighed to herself, but everyone heard it, and the cash that Vernon threw back at you yesterday felt heavy in your back-pocket. He wasn’t a charity case, he said it himself, but why not give it to him when you seriously didn’t need it? You looked at Vernon and his eyebrows were furrowed as he sighed quietly.

“Thank you for having me for lunch, but I really have to go home now.” You spoke up and stood up, Vernon following your actions. Sofia shot you a pout but she waved as you walked to the kitchen, Vernon behind you.

“You should come more often.” Mrs. Chwe gave you a pat on the head and you bowed your head, waving at Chan, but as you went to step outside of the kitchen, you stopped. Vernon walked into you and your skin tingled as he grabbed onto your arms, steadying himself. You wanted to curse but focused on what you were about to say as you glanced back, having to look over Vernon’s shoulder. He was taller than you.

“Chan, ask Vernon to give you my phone number and whenever you have free time, call me if you feel like studying a little.” Chan’s mouth fell open and you winked at him, taking off again.

“For free?” Chan shouted after you and you chuckled, weirdly not bothered that Vernon was still holding onto you.

“For free!” You called back and Chan started loudly cheering, making Vernon sigh, “You should do the same, Vernon, the poor kid makes it obvious that he’d like to study.”

“You think I didn’t try doing that?” Vernon scoffed and finally released you as you went to pull on your shoes, “He’s stubborn and refuses to listen to me.”

“I guess my beauty is enough to give him motivation then.” You said cutely and Vernon could have sworn his heart stopped beating. You didn’t notice his sudden freeze up as you grabbed your jacket and phone from your pocket.

“Your beauty…” He muttered to himself as you sent a message to John to pick you up, his answer was immediate.

“So…” You looked back at Vernon, sneakily taking the roll of cash from your back-pocket, “We are meeting tomorrow too?”

“That’s the plan, right?” He asked, his voice sounding a bit chocked up and you ignored it as you nodded. Your eyes fell on the table behind him and your heart picked up when you realized what you’d have to do. You wouldn’t have done it, not in a million years, if it wasn’t your only chance to leave the money at him. Your heart started beating fast and Vernon frowned when he saw you closing the gap between you two. You grimaced to yourself as you let your left arm circle his torso, hugging him briefly. Your right arm extended and just as you managed to drop the cash onto the table, Vernon pulled you into himself. You gasped quietly and noticed how refreshing his scent was and the back of his t-shirt was still wet from his dripping hair that seemed only damp now. The hug didn’t last for long but when you pulled back, both of your cheeks were warm and you couldn’t look at Vernon.

“Uhm, see you tomorrow!” Not wanting to hear his voice and feel more flustered, you quickly opened the door and ran down his driveway, refusing to turn back around to watch him close the door. You could still feel his arms around you and how soft his clothes were despite his body being so firm. I think Yoona is right, I might like Vernon.

You couldn’t help the satisfied cry that left your lips as you took your forth successful turn, drifting just like Vernon taught you. You still couldn’t do it each time you tried, but this was the best you’ve done since you’ve been here so far. Vernon was proud as he gripped onto the board of the car, lips in a wide grin. He wasn’t bothered by how sharp your turns were, throwing him around in his seat even though he was buckled up, he was happy that you were happy. He’s never seen you with such wide smile before, and he was mesmerized. He never thought you could become more beautiful than you already were. Your heart was beating fast again as you decided this was satisfying enough to take a break, Vernon’s been complaining for half an hour now. You slowed the car down and stopped the engine when it finally came to a stop. You let out a breath and relaxed in the driver’s seat, feeling accomplished. You could finally do it; you were sure you needed more practice but you actually did it this time.

“That was pretty cool, Y/N.” You forgot you were with Vernon in the car and you became embarrassed as you looked at him, “Am I still a bad teacher?”

“It took me five hours in total to catch the hang of it, I wouldn’t tell anyone you’re very bright at teaching.” It made Vernon chuckle and you realized what he acted like in school was his real personality, he wasn’t faking anything like some people were. It felt nice to be around someone authentic and you found yourself staring at him. His black hair seemed to have wax on as it was twirled in locks and paired with the red sunglasses he wore it made him look very attractive. He had on some black ripped jeans and underneath his neon green oversized jumper he wore a white t-shirt, you could see the collar of it. When Vernon locked eyes with you, you quickly looked away and picked at the ends of your turtleneck; your knee-length skirt had ridden up a bit and was around your thighs, you’d have to pull it lower soon.

“I gave Chan your phone number,” You looked back at Vernon surprised, you didn’t expect Chan to actually accept your offer, “He said he’ll give you a call next week.”

“That’s fine,” You hummed and brushed your long hair behind your back, “The less time I spend at home, the better.”

You wished you didn’t say that, because it seemed like Vernon just remembered something and his eyebrows furrowed as his eyes searched your face. You did not forget to put on foundation today, so he couldn’t see anything wrong with your skin, but suddenly the area felt on fire. You hoped Vernon wouldn’t bring it up now that he couldn’t see it, but you were wrong.

“Why hide the bruise if I have already seen it?”

“I thought it wasn’t visible anymore, good you told me.”

“Wouldn’t want more people getting suspicious?” Your eyebrows furrowed and Vernon rolled his eyes, looking a little irritated.

“What happened?” You shrugged and sighed, trying to remain neutral.

“I told you yesterday, Vernon—”

“But it’s not the truth.” You rolled your eyes but Vernon’s burning gaze made you want to tell him everything. You didn’t know anymore which feeling was stronger: hatred or liking. But you wanted to tell someone and Vernon was willing to listen, maybe you felt like this because you knew Vernon wouldn’t directly go to the police like Yoona would.

“Everyone at school is jealous of me for being rich, for having everything I want and need. But I don’t have everything, Vernon. My parents don’t love, at least my father doesn’t, my mother barely spends time with me nowadays and the bruise—" You hated thinking of how you got certain bruises, your chest ached. You blocked the memories away and you didn’t think it would be this hard to say it. You were scared of how Vernon would react and what he’d think, would he see you differently? Vernon grabbed your hand and you became stiff, wanting to pull your hand away but keep it there at the same time. It was oddly offering you comfort.

“The truth is that—my father—he—hits me.” You muttered quietly and looked down at your hands, unable to look at Vernon. You didn’t want him to see the tears in your eyes, you hated being vulnerable in front of others. And now you were confused about what you actually felt for Vernon, it wasn’t helping. Vernon’s silence was making you uncomfortable and you glanced up at him, his jaw was clenched. He seemed fine, but his jaw gave him away. You knew he was angry and you sighed, pulling your hand away from his.

“Go to the police, tell on him.”

“No, I can’t do that. He’s still my father.”

“Do you even hear yourself?!” Vernon’s sudden raise of voice made you jump as you looked back at him surprised, “This isn’t a little disciplinary spank a parent does from time to time, Y/N. He’s abusing you!”

You didn’t need someone to tell you, you were well aware of that. You threw Vernon a glare and crossed your arms in front of your chest, “Thanks for stating the obvious—”

“No, don’t do that!” He snapped, undoing his seatbelt in his anger, to be able to turn towards you better, “This isn’t something that can be treated lightly, Y/N! You need to tell someone; he has to stop. He has no rights laying his hands on you, do you understand me?”

“Do you understand that I know but I won’t do anything?” You raised your voice as well, your glare becoming harsh, “If I want my life to be ruined forever, sure, I’ll go tell the authorities.”

“He can’t ruin your life for something he did knowingly that it’s wrong—” His words became white noise as you closed your eyes, trying to calm yourself. Vernon was the last person you needed lecturing from, especially since you were getting this treatment because he was better than you at one fucking subject. Your anger went through the roof and you snaped, unable to take his words.

“Shut up, it’s all because of you!” Vernon’s eyes went wide and he looked so confused, you felt bad for telling him that, “You’re better at English than I am, my father can’t stand that. I have to be best at everything. It’s why I could never stand you, unknowingly you made me hurt. And it’s a shit reason, I know, but it’s true…”

Vernon looked speechless until he started looking regretful and he grabbed your hand again, despite your glare, “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t apologize,” You scoffed, throwing him a look, “It’s not your fault. Don’t worry, I only have to put up with his shit for three more months. I’ll be moving out.”

“Does he know?” Vernon’s eyebrows rose and you scoffed again.

“Of course not. Why would I tell him? He keeps threatening me so I don’t see why I shouldn’t make his threats reality before he gets to proceed with them.” Vernon’s eyebrows furrowed as he thought and you raised your eyebrows at him.

“Come move in with us.” You weren’t expecting that at all and your eyes grew wide as you stared at Vernon. Move in with him and his family? That sounded weird, you could manage on your own too. It wasn’t that hard, right?

“I can’t, that house is already packed with you four and Chan spending his time there too.”

“Sofia would love to have another girl around the house, please?”

“Vernon, this isn’t something you get to decide. That house is your parents’ and I can’t show up unannounced, okay?” Your eyebrows rose at him and he sighed, knowing what you were saying was right.

“Fine, but think about it…” You nodded once and he took his hand off from yours, you uncrossed your arms, “Do you really hate me?”

You thought for a second as you watched him, not knowing how to answer him, because you didn’t know how you felt for him. You didn’t actually hate him, but you did envy him.

“I’m not sure how I feel about you…” You muttered and Vernon sighed, leaning back in the seat, “But I don’t think I hate you. I thought you sucked, but maybe you aren’t that bad.”

It made Vernon chuckle and when he looked over at you, your heart started beating quickly again and you blushed. If you constantly kept reacting like that it meant that you actually felt something more for him, right? Yoona must have been right, she never joked around with things like this one, and you bit your lower lip as the two of you watched each other quietly. You were always bold with others and merciless, not really caring if they got hurt by your words or not. You felt like you gave Vernon the wrong idea and now he might have been convinced that you hated him, which wasn’t true at all. You thought maybe you should be bold for once with your actions too and you cleared your throat, which made Vernon glance at you. He wasn’t making it easier but maybe if he saw you leaning in, he wouldn’t pull away in surprise. So, you leaned over the middle console and with your eyes on his lips, you tried closing the gap but Vernon was too far away. It would have been embarrassing if Vernon had not leaned in as well, pressing his lips against yours. It wasn’t as bad as you thought your first kiss would be, his lips were soft and you found that cute. It didn’t last for long either because Vernon seemed to be flustered as he stiffly pulled his head back, looking into your eyes.

“You might not be my favorite person in the world, but I think I like you.” You found yourself saying and Vernon chuckled, scratching the back of his nape as his ears and neck were red.

“Go on a date with me? Even if I lost the bet….” Vernon asked with a cheeky grin, looking just as flustered as moments ago and it made you chuckle.

“I made that bet because I knew you would lose, but sure.” It was time things took a better turn in your life and maybe Vernon was the starting point.

155 notes · View notes

jamilelucato · 4 years ago

Text

Popcorn Taste [F.W]

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Summary: It’s a bit awkward spending Christmas in the Burrow after what happened between you and Fred.

Warning: there’s a drunk scene, but the characters are not underage; fluffy;

A/N: of course I’m participating in my own challenge, why not? So this is Day 7- Making A Popcorn Garland for the A Very Harry Potter Christmas with @whack-ed

Harry Potter Masterlist || Musical Hogwarts Series

Generally, being invited to spend the holidays with the Weasley was all you could’ve wished. This year, however, staying in that small house locked with tons of red-heads was not your first goal.

Nevertheless, when the letter arrived, there was nothing you could do but sigh and reply with “thanks for the invite; yes, I’m coming; no, I’m not bringing someone with me.”

Mrs and Mr Weasley had a special place in your heart — for all the days they allowed you to stay with them, particularly during the dark times of war, and after it, when you were alone. You had no choice but to show up and, fair enough, it wasn’t all that bad. You liked the older couple; you always laughed around Bill; Charlie had unique stories to tell, and even Percy remained quite pleasant and able to communicate when you were around.

It was the next son in line that worried your guts and caused the butterflies in your stomach to fly around.

You took one last look at your flat before holding tight to your luggage before Apparating to the Burrow. It was one week before Christmas, but it was the exact day — and time — that Mrs Weasley had written for you to show up.

CRACK!

The loud sound (of what probably used to be) a vase breaking echoed in the house, and you involuntarily ducked, even though there was no one in the living room to see you.

“[y/n]? Is that you?” Molly’s voice found its way to where you were still scared to move and break something else.

“It’s me, Molly,”— she would never allow you to call her Mrs Weasley in front of her — “and I think I broke something.”

She found her way to the living room, carefully stepping away from the broken pieces and reaching for you with her hands, firstly cupping your face and squeezing your cheeks before pulling you in a proper hug.

“It��s okay, dear! I’m so happy you came,” she whispered in your ear, before pulling you away and reaching for your luggage, not even asking if you wanted help.

“She’s been talking about you all week.”

At first, the voice seemed familiar, and it made you shiver until Molly stepped out of your sight and revealed the real speaker, standing near the door sill — and although he looked a lot like who you thought he was, he still wasn’t him.

“Hi, George,” you smiled sympathetically, slowly moving towards the younger twin, paying attention not to step on the broken vase.

He received you with a quick but tight hug. When you pulled away, your eyes searched for the other half of that pair, but you didn’t find the other identical face.

“Fred’s coming later,” George explained the question that you didn’t ask aloud.

“I wasn’t looking for him,” you denied with some charm, more out of fear of Molly listening and having second thoughts than fear of George finding out what was going on in the dark corners of your mind.

After all, you were pretty sure that George already knew.

When you surreptitiously looked back, however, Molly and her bags were no longer in the room.

“Since Mum’s taking care of your accommodation, come help me with de-gnoming the yard,” George suggested, putting one of his long arms over your shoulders and pulling you close.

“I thought this job was Ron’s,” you said, having a vague memory of a Christmas years ago, “and Potter’s.”

George smiled. “Ronniekins and Harriekins are only coming later in the night,” he explained, guiding you out of the Burrow. “But I think you’ll like to see who’s helping me out in the yard.”

As soon as he opened the door to the back, your eyes scanned the place, soon finding red hair in the wind, too long to belong to any other Weasley but: “Bill!!” you shouted, running towards him.

Bill smiled when he turned and saw you, and greeted you with a warm hug, as he always did when you spent days at the Burrow and felt left out.

“Hi, little one,” he stroked your hair before putting you back on the ground. “I think we have a lot of catching up to do.”

“Tell me about it! You’ll never know...” Bill let you vent until you saw the platinum blond woman coming towards the three of you, and she had a hand positioned at the end of her belly as if it was too heavy to carry. “Oh, my Merlin!!!”

Bill chuckled at your reaction at his pregnant wife.

You rushed to get closer to Fleur, afraid she was too slow because of the child she carried in her womb, but you slowed down when you got close, scared you could hurt her.

“Fleur! I can’t believe it! Can I...?” you looked down at where her hands were placed.

“Sure,” she said with her French accent still very strong. She smiled at you while you delicately pressed your hands on her belly, trying to feel the life growing on her.

“How long...?”

“Four months,” Bill answered from behind you. “We wanted to be sure before telling the family.”

“And you were right in doing so,” you said between gasps of surprise — you were still very much fascinated with it. “Hey, George, when are you and Angelina....”

“Don’t even start!” he interrupted you in a protest and soon everybody was laughing, just like old times.

You weren’t surprised when, after a long two hours of de-gnoming the backyard and a well-deserved hot bath, you found your suitcase in the twins’ room.

Molly had installed you there for two reasons. The first was that gradually over the day, the rest of the Weasley siblings were arriving, and so the rooms filled up.

Bill and his wife stayed in his room; Percy and his wife switched places with Ginny in search of a larger one, so Ginny and Hermione were cramped in Percy’s old small room. Ron and Harry would share Ron’s room upstairs, and Charlie had his room to himself, as it was also a tiny room.

Therefore, the only room large enough to accommodate an extra mattress was the twins’.

The second reason was that you had been used to sleeping there since you were fifteen when on the hottest summer nights you ran away from Ginny’s room and were welcomed next to Fred and George. When you were a teen, you believed you did a great job being discreet, but now at 21, you reconsidered that maybe Molly always knew, but pretended not to see.

You quickly changed, afraid the boys could come in at any moment. You had heard Fred’s voice — Merlin, you’d recognize it at any distance — when you were getting out of the bathroom, so you were extra nervous when you left the room and headed to the kitchen, where the majority of the family was. Except for Fleur who needed to rest and Percy, his wife and Charlie that were in the living room.

“Here, she is!” Fred’s voice greeted you in that heartwarming way that only he had, and with just a couple of steps he reached you and held you in a tight hug, slightly taking your feet off the ground.

“Hi, Freddie,” you whispered in his ear with a chuckle while he put you back on the floor. You saw his cheeks turning red because of the nickname and thought it was the cutest thing ever.

“Hope you’re hungry,” said George from behind Fred, but you couldn’t see him — Fred was your only view at that moment.

“Always am, Weasley,” you replied, placing your hands in the back pockets of your jeans and walking towards the smell of warm food. You had no idea what it was — you always sucked with scents — but it looked good. Fred turned in the direction you were walking, watching you.

Like you, he was scared to death that you both would be startled the next time you saw each other, but as soon as his eyes met yours, he couldn’t contain the joy and desire to at least embrace you.

The thing was, last time you two had seen each other was on a party in the twins flat, and, after a couple of drinks, you ended up kissing Fred in a bathroom. It actually happened like this:

“What are you doing here?” Fred asked when you stepped in the small bathroom of his room. He wasn’t angry, just surprised. Besides, he wasn’t naked or something — he had already done whatever he needed to do in the bathroom, but he needed to wash his hands before leaving.

“I know you said for us to use the guest bathroom, but whoever is in there hasn’t left since,” you sighed, staring at him slowly, taking your time to appreciate the view, “and I need to pee.”

“Oh, I’ll leave.”

“Please, don’t,” you said, a bit too fast. Even drunk, you noticed that you didn’t even hesitate. “It’s just... I’ll get lost in here alone.”

Fred looked around. He was drunk too, but he still had a clear idea that his flat wasn’t at all that big.

“Okay,” he agreed slowly, unsure of what else to say. He then turned to face the door, allowing you to do whatever you needed to do with some privacy.

Deep down, he loved the idea of being in a small room with you. It’s just, he was drunk, so it wasn’t the first scenario he had in mind.

“You can turn now,” you said; your voice followed by the sound of the flush. You stepped closer to the sink — there really wasn’t much space there — and after washing your hands, you were left to confront your darkest fears.

Fred stared down at you, his head above yours just like always, only this time, he was so close that it was almost terrifying. It made you weak in the knees. And you were so drunk...

“Kiss me.”

“Huh?” Fred shocked his head. He had heard you, he just wasn’t sure you wanted to make his wildest dreams come true.

“Kiss me, Freddie,” oh, the nickname — it was his weak spot, and he was so close now. Your hands cupped his cheekbone.

“You are drunk,” he stated, noticing that at any other circumstances, you wouldn’t have the balls.

“So are you,” you smiled, leaning closer to him and finally ending the last millimetres that were in your way.

Both of you remembered the kiss, even though the approach seemed to be like it never happened. It didn’t last much — someone knocked on the door, asking for Fred, saying they needed to say good-bye, and so he left you alone in that bathroom with just your thoughts and his smell all over you.

It had been two months since the kiss, and you two ignored each other since. Some nights, you wish you could’ve forgotten it, but how could you when every time you closed your eyes your brain replayed the moment?

“Lost in thoughts?” asked Molly as she placed some food in your plate during dinner.

You stared at her — truly lost in thoughts. She smiled, forcing you to smile back, but the corner of your mind was still thinking about Fred and the fact that in a couple of hours you’d be sleeping in his room. With him.

Dinner went well, and even the late hours by the fire — even though Ginny and Ron left you to sit on the floor. It was easy to distract yourself from Fred when he had like, a ton of other siblings to talk to. And unfortunately, that’s what you did — avoided talking to only him the whole night.

When you finally gathered enough courage, you went to the bedroom, already in your pyjamas. You came across a snoring George (how easy it was for him to sleep, it was a mystery), but Fred’s bed was still empty.

As you entered the room trying to make as little noise as possible, you realized that there was already a body on your mattress on the floor.

“Fred?”

Red hair fluttered, and in the dim light of the only candle in the room, you saw Fred’s eyes shine when they met you.

“What are you doing on my mattress?”

“Yours?” he asked in a voice not as low as yours. Perhaps he knew the limits of his brother’s hearing better than you. “You didn’t think I was going to let you sleep on the floor, did you?”

“Fred, please, it wouldn’t be a bother...”

“[y/n], just accept my bed for today. ’M already very well settled here to leave,” he debated, gesturing with his neck towards himself, where he really looked comfortable under a thick blanket.

You sighed, knowing very well, after years of being Fred and George’s best friend that there was no point with arguing. So you jumped on his old bed, trying to find a position, but already knowing it’d take you at least a couple of hours to finally sleep.

In a quick and not calculated movement, your head ended up turned on the pillow, making your breathing more limited, thus having to breathe through it.

It was a bad idea because, without warning, Fred’s scent invaded your nostrils. It wasn’t a bad smell, quite the contrary — it was very much inviting and, knowing that Fred was only less than a meter from you and remembering the taste of his kiss, sleeping was suddenly impossible that night.

You sighed, but could not move, paralyzed in that position — it was as if your body was addicted to his scent, and you wanted more and more. When you finally fell asleep, the dream that invaded your subconscious was not much different than what you imagined before you went to sleep.

“Popcorn duty?” asked Fred, catching up to you with just a couple of large steps.

“Yeah,” you sighed, trying not to sound so disappointed. Of course, spending time with Fred was marvellous, but since you kissed him and he never mentioned it again, it kinda seemed fair to you not want to be alone with him.

Fred didn’t notice something off with your tone, so he kept walking next to you towards the kitchen, where Molly had told you the popcorn was.

Placing yourselves next to each other, you were left responsible for holding the fishing wire, and Fred was in charge of the popcorn. You handed the point of the wire for him, who sought advice with his eyes.

You helped him with your hands — this time, you were the one to blush with the touch. You did not expect his hands to be so warm in the middle of winter.

“Do you reckon Mum would mind if we ate one?” he asked, raising a single popcorn up. “Or two?”

You chuckled at his worries, looking down at the bowl filled with old popcorn. You had no idea why he thought that was delicious. It still smelled like good popcorn, but you knew that, for these types of garlands, it needed to be ready, like, at least, one week earlier.

“They don’t look very appetizing to me,” you commented, tilting your head towards him, holding tightly to the wire since Fred seemed reckless with the thing.

“Ah,” Fred sighed, using the popcorn that he was about to eat to place in the garland. He seemed to be getting the hang of it by now. “Well, I’m just hungry,” he shrugged innocently.

“I bet. It’s not like you just ate breakfast, right?” you chuckled, and Fred joined, looking at you with the same sparkly eyes that captured your heart when you were just a kid. He had no idea that you have been liking him for so long.

“I’ll tell you what, before we go to bed, we can watch a movie and I’ll make you new popcorn,” you offered after a moment of silence. Fred wasn’t the quiet type of guy, so when the room was filled with it, something was definitely wrong.

He smiled with the opportunity you gave him. “Asking me on a date, [y/n]?”

You elbowed him, laughing nervous first, but when you realized that he was just teasing you, your laugh became more real. It was so easy to have fun with Fred.

After a few years of romantically craving him so strongly, you had forgotten that he was also a great friend.

“You wish, Weasley,” you chuckled.

Charlie walked in the kitchen, followed by Ron, and both of the brothers stared at you two for a while before getting back to what they planned on doing.

“Having fun?” asked Charlie with the cutest British mixed with Romanian accent ever.

You exchanged looks with Fred.

“No, he’s pretty boring,” you shrugged, before dropping your act and laughing out loud.

“[y/n] won’t let me eat the popcorn,” Fred said, getting on board with your joke.

“That’s not what I said,” you raised a brow. Ron was about to roll his eyes, very much tired of your thing with Fred. He remembered you two back in school and how annoying and oblivious you two were. He was just like that with Hermione, but you were never the one to point it out.

“I said that this popcorn is old,” you reached for one yourself, “and disgusting.”

“Are you complaining about Mum’s food?” Fred asked, dropping the wire over the table and crossing his arms, trying to look intimidating.

“She didn’t make it for us to eat it,” you pointed out.

Charlie was leaned in the sink counter, watching the scene with a glass of water in his hands, trying hard not to laugh at the fact that you two were acting like an old couple. It kinda reminded him of when he was younger, and Arthur and Molly couldn’t stop arguing about what to do with the too-big-to-enter-the-house Christmas Tree.

“Let’s go, Charlie,” Ron called his older brother. “The ball ornaments won’t paint themselves.”

“You guys are painting the ornaments?” you expression suddenly turned blue. Fred looked down at you, feeling worried. “Oh, I wish I was painting.”

Fred bit his lip before suggesting “Why don’t you go with them? I think I can finish this myself.”

You looked from the bowl of popcorn still full with it to Fred, who had the cutest of faces.

“Nah, you need me,” you said and then gulped at the double meaning of your words. “I mean, need me to finish this.”

Charlie and Ron exchanged suspicious looks while Fred stared at you, smiling with his eyes.

“Should we...?” Ron whispered to Charlie, who just placed his hands in the youngest’s back and pushed it.

“Just go,” Charlie whispered back, leaving you and Fred to get back to your own rhythm with things, distracted with each other.

When the popcorn garlands where ready, the tree was already inside the house — job done by Arthur and Bill. They had picked a beautiful tree (and to Charlie’s relief, this one fit the house).

Ginny and Hermione were the two focusing on placing the decorations on the right places, following the orders of Molly and Fleur (although the girls seemed to be paying attention only to Molly’s suggestions).

You were about to sit in the middle of Fred and George in the couch when Ron, Charlie, Percy and his wife walked in the house, holding a big transparent box filled with painted balls.

“Ow, let me see them!” you rushed next to Charlie and deepened your hands inside. “Are they still fresh?”

“No,” Charlie replied, noticing you were scared of ruining the ornaments.

The first one your hands touched you brought up, noticing it had two different names on it. In one side, [y/n] was written, but the other had Fred on it.

“Why two names?” you really wanted to ask why it was yours and Fred’s, but there were too many people on the room.

Ron and Charlie gulped, while Percy and his wife exchanged happy side looks.

“Mum wanted two names in each because she felt like our names were too short,” said Ron, but his explanation didn’t please anyone on the room, “or something,” he added a second later.

You placed the ball in your hands back in the box, and Charlie offered you a sympathetic smile.

You headed back to the couch, watching the girls finish placing the ornaments. Molly walked in, with a lot of bags on her hand, so Bill and George got up to help, leaving you and Fred on the couch alone.

“So... our date’s still up?”

You turned your face to him, at first confused, but then giggling.

“It’s not a date.”

“Did you invite anyone else?” he asked, leaning closer to you involuntarily.

“No,” you said as if it was clear.

“Then it is a date,” he smirked. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone you asked me out.”

“Oh, shove off, Weasley,” you pushed him slightly, both of you laughing. Oh, how you wanted it to be a real date.

But sure it wasn’t. It couldn’t be, right? you wondered, staring at him from the corner of your eye.

“Okay, they’re gone,” Fred said, calling you from the stairs. You left his room on tiptoes, scared of waking the house up and reached him at the bottom of the staircase.

You two waited for everyone to leave the living room — where the only TV in the house could be found — and pretended to go to bed as well. When Fred’s watch pointed to one in the morning, he shook your arm slightly (waking you up but you’d never confess you had slept) and you both left for your adventure.

“So what movie did you get us?”

He turned to face you, who was sitting in the couch, bringing the blanket you had taken with yourself closer to your chin.

“While You Were Sleeping,” he answered. “Seemed to be the youngest Mum had around.”

“It’s a romance,” you pointed out, tilting your head provocatively.

“It’s not a...” Fred looked up to the TV where Sandra Bullock started walking around the streets. “It’s a romance,” he sighed, defeated.

You chuckled. “I like it. But do you?”

“Ahn,” he seemed lost in thought. “It doesn’t matter.”

You had no idea what that meant, but you gave him some room to sit next to you in the couch and for him to get under the covers, while the popcorn in your lap kept you two moving your mouths.

The movie seemed quite pleasant, but it was hard to pay attention when Fred’s smell was all over you once again, the only smell your body had no problem identifying.

You gulped in the dark. “Are you enjoying it?” you asked, sure that romantic movies could not possibly be Fred’s favourite genre.

“Yep,” he answered a bit too fast. Suspicious, you thought.

“Who’s your favourite character?” you decided to test him.

“The girl.”

“Why’s that?” his answers seemed too generic so when replied this last question you made, you were surprised.

“She likes the guy, but she’s afraid to give up what she idealized. She’s scared of the new,” he said, and although the answer appeared accurate to the movie, something told you he was not talking about Sandra Bullock’s character.

You turned to face him, noticing that he was way closer to you then you thought. Perhaps all the warm did not come from only the blanket. Fred gulped when he saw you staring at him.

“I think she has a valid reason for that.”

The corners of his lips raised just a little. “What’s that?”

“The guy hasn’t been very clear about what he wants either.”

Fred gulped, feeling his cheeks burn. You were right — he wasn’t talking about the movie character.

“Kiss me.”

Oh, the sentence that has been hunting both of you down this time was voiced by Fred Weasley and that could have not left you more speechless.

So you knew what you had to do, after all, the guy was being very clear about what he wanted.

Your lips met his, this time with no rush. It was like when a hummingbird meets a flower — delicate, even though deep down very much desperate.

At this moment, you two were alone, and you had time, and you weren’t drunk. This time was going to be perfect, and Merlin, how it was! Fred had this unique way of touching you softly but fervently, and each time his hands changed position, your body twisted, wanting more, wanting him to kiss you everywhere, hoping he wouldn’t go away.

When you two finally parted, after several attempts to do so, but neither wanting to stop kissing yet, he smirked down at you, leaving your body in his embrace.

“You taste like popcorn,” he said, breaking the silence of the living room since the movie had ended and neither of you had noticed.

“I hope it’s the good one,” you smiled too, feeling surrendered to his charms.

It was good to have him around you, his body twisted with yours, and it was even best to know that he wanted you as much or even more than you craved him.

“It’s the best one,” he said, before kissing you again.

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #Fred and George #Fred and George Weasley #george and fred #fred and george imagine #george weasley x reader #fred x reader #fred x y/n #a very harry potter christmas #christmas #harry potter #hazrry potter christmas #fred weasley christmas

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bangtanbetchfics · 4 years ago

Text

friction | knj (m)

genre: office au, romance, smut rating: explicit // 18+ pairing: kim namjoon x reader word count: 7.0k suggested listening: 1 billion views - exo-sc | creme brulee - gfriend | underwater - baekhyun | playlist warnings: m/f, m/m, explicit language, explicit/casual sex, masturbation, enemies to lovers, light bondage, light dom/sub, sex toys summary: your pesky and overworked assistants meddle in your relationship with your sexy rival -- kim namjoon -- and find themselves caught in the crosshairs of love and all-out war. notes: enjoy enjoy enjoy! a true labor of love. navigation: ch. i | ch. ii | ch. iii | masterlist | ao3

FRIC·TION | conflict or animosity caused by a clash of wills, temperaments, or opinions.

Taehyung yawns, interlacing his fingers and pulling his arms above his head in a stretch. He moves his neck side-to-side until he hears a satisfying crack, indicating the adequate stretch of the muscle. He waits for his computer to finish powering down before clicking the lamp on his desk off.

Taehyung’s hand reaches for his coat, but he hesitates as he looks over at your office.

The blue glare seems to amplify your stressed expression and the mildly dark crescents under your eyes.

“Ma’am?”

Taehyung quietly raps at the glass door to your office and it startles you from your concentration.

“Hmm...yes, Tae?”

You respond, mildly annoyed, as you pull a neon post-it note from its pad to stick to the desk.

Taehyung looks at you, his eyes forming wide circles as if he's ready to convince you of something. You can immediately sense his question before you exhale through your nose.

“It’s just that it’s getting late and I-” Taehyung starts, wrapping a hand around the glass doorframe.

You shake yourself out of your funk and look at him fondly, your brows coming together in compassion.

Before your mouth can form a response, the phone at Taehyung’s desk rings.

He gives you a small bow to pardon him before he jogs to his desk to pick up the phone.

“Yes, Sir. Yes, yes. Yes, yes, yes. Of course, Mr. Min,” Taehyung looks at you a few times, pointing at the phone. “I’ll send her right up.”

Taehyung's eyes widen at you before hanging up the phone.

You come to the threshold of your office, leaning your head on the frame.

“Was it Min?” You ask, and Taehyung nods in response.

“He wants to see you immediately. Didn’t specify what it was for.”

You chew at your lip and then dig in your pocket, tossing him your corporate card.

“I’m so sorry, Tae. Do you mind staying until I come back? There’s just a lot going on this week with the product launch, and I’m sure he’ll add more to my plate,” Taehyung puts his hand up and shakes it.

“Of course. Anything you need.” He responds, slipping the plastic card in his pocket.

“Thank you.” You whisper, your hands in a prayer. He bows as his eyes watch you walk off.

Taehyung rolls his chair up to his desk, and he hits a few digits on the dialpad.

“Gonna be another long one,” Taehyung sighs out into the receiver.

“Same here Tete,” The singsong voice responds, equally as disappointed.

“I should have your cock in my mouth right now, but I’m here ordering takeout for the third time this week,” The voice whines.

“Jimin!” Taehyung growls into the phone, but the sound quickly dissolves into a laugh.

“What’s so funny? It’s not good for my figure,” Taehyung can tell there’s a pout in Jimin’s voice.

“Especially my ass.” Jimin continues, the pout growing deeper.

“I love your ass. Shutup.” Taehyung chuckles. “You said you’re stuck here late too?”

“Yeah. I know the product launch is coming, but Joon never stops working.” Jimin whines. “He got called upstairs by Min a few seconds ago.” Taehyung gasps and sits up in his chair, rolling it closer to his desk.

“Hmm…” Taehyung hums. He places his elbows on the surface, using his free hand to ruffle his silver locks.

“What? You sound interested.” Jimin inquires, and Taehyung drums the desk with his fingers.

“My boss did too.”

✹✹✹

Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

The slow ticking of the clock snips through your veins. You press the nail of your index finger into the flesh of your thumb, creating a small crescent-shaped indent in your skin.

You feel your heart picking up pace in your chest; steady thumps beating at your ribcage. You turn your hand around to stare at the indentation on your skin, waiting for it to vanish. It does, slowly.

You look at your boss through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of his office, his mouth busy moving in response to someone on the other end of the phone’s receiver. His hair is a textured bowl of platinum blonde, and his long, bony fingers move through a mass of papers on his desk.

You’re unsure of why you’ve been summoned; Yoongi never summoned anyone to his office unless it was serious. Being two days out from a product launch with you at the marketing helm...well, that was never a good sign.

After a moment, heavy, confident footsteps echo through the hall.

You see a man -- all legs in his dark, smartly tailored pants -- and he immediately diverts attention from your buzzing thoughts. His aura fills the entire space, and you sit up straight in your chair.

The man’s long wool trench coat brushes at his ankles, the black fabric stiff at the tips of his shoulders. He shrugs the coat off and carefully folds it in half, placing it on the chair behind him.

He suddenly feels your eyes on him from across the room, and his sharp gaze snaps over to meet yours. His eyes crinkle at the edges, and he extends his hand across the coffee table between the two of you.

“Kim Namjoon. I’m guessing you don’t know why you’re here either?” His voice comes out in a dark, velvety tone, catching you off guard. Your eyes can't help but fix on his as you shake his hand.

“Not a clue,” You respond coolly, and the dimples in his cheeks make themselves known.

You clear your throat as his eyes hang onto yours in return, and you feel your lips subtly part. Snapping yourself from his aura, you quickly release his hand and look around the room to find something else to concentrate on.

“Guess we’ll find out...” Namjoon shrugs, sliding back in his seat. You offer him a nod in response, nervously swallowing the exchange down your throat.

You then cross your legs, pretending to be busy on your phone.

After processing the interaction, Namjoon licks the inside of his cheek -- his head hanging down in a mild defeat for a second. He reaches into his pocket to pull out a tattered copy of The Art of Loving.

As he reads, your eyes peel from your phone and notice the way his turtleneck hugs his form, the dark fabric dipping in at the valley between his firm chest. A few lavender-tinted hairs slide from Namjoon’s slicked back style into his dark brown eyes, and his smokey gaze suddenly rises up to meet yours.

Fuck. He’s caught you.

Your eyes widen in a few seconds of brief panic and dart back down to your phone. You move your thumb around through the pages of apps; it’s all you can manage so suddenly.

Namjoon smiles to himself as he looks back down, quietly dipping a finger to his tongue to stick to a page of his book.

Before he’s able to turn the page, Yoongi pops his head from the office.

“You ready?” Yoongi asks, turning his head in your direction.

You nod and watch Yoongi shuffle back to his desk.

You inhale and smooth your skirt as you stand, noticing Namjoon’s eyes following your fingers as they glide over the red fabric adorning your curves. He calmly looks back down and blushes as you catch him; his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously as he pretends to continue on with his book.

“Wish me luck,” You notice the way his gaze lit something sexual afire in you, but you couldn’t pay any attention to that right now. “Nice meeting you.”

Namjoon looks up at you again, his fingers tense on the pages of the book.

“Likewise.” Namjoon’s smouldering eyes are fixed on you as he responds, and his gaze continues to follow you into Yoongi’s office.

You reach a chair across from Yoongi’s desk, sneaking a glance at Namjoon one last time over your shoulder.

Namjoon exhales the tension from his body as he watches you take a seat.

✹✹✹

You sit in the chair across from Yoongi’s desk, admiring the glittering cityscape behind him.

“I love being in here. It’s so refreshing.” You sigh, your eyes floating back to Yoongi.

“Yeah, kid? Well, it could be yours soon,” He chuckles. “I’m actually sick of looking at it. I’m ready to move onto my next venture.” Yoongi says this as if he’s in his forties, but he’s the youngest CEO in the vicinity. It's indicated by a giant, framed magazine cover of himself on a wall in his office: Top 30 Under 30 in Technology.

“C-Come again?” You murmur as you’re taken by surprise, and you sit up in your seat.

“You heard me. I want either you -- the CMO -- or Kim, the CTO running things," Yoongi says, standing up. He calls you over with his finger, motioning for you to sit in his chair. "Either of you are my best shot.”

You plop down in the cushy leather fabric, and your eyes meet Namjoon’s again. You purse your lips together and swirl the chair around to face the cityscape.

“How’s that feel?” Yoongi asks as he adjusts his cream turtleneck.

“Damn good.” You growl, your nails digging into the armrests.

“Well, there’s no reward without risk,” He says, and you raise your head in interest.

“Try me, Min.” You demand as you cross your legs, leaning back in the chair.

“I want you to launch the product in my place at TechX this week.” He mentions casually, and you shriek in response as you shoot up from your seat.

“You can’t be serious, Min!” You throw your hands on your hips. “Isn’t that in two days? In Vegas? And like, the largest product launch ever for this company? ” You inquire, looking over at Yoongi.

“See! You understand the gravity of this launch. And yeah, and I haven’t even finished the keynote yet,” Yoongi cackles, slapping his thigh. “Partner with Kim on the presentation. It’s in front of twenty-thousand too, so make it good.” He sits down, racking away at the keys on his laptop.

“You and Kim are both equally matched in terms of qualifications, so whoever can secure the biggest investors to ensure the longevity of the company will get a leg up in interviewing for the position.” Yoongi continues nonchalantly.

“Got it?” He taps one last key, stopping only to look up at you.

“Yes, Sir.” You nod, feeling a tightness creep into your chest.

✹✹✹

“Jimin, can you book my accommodations, please?”

Jimin hands Namjoon a bag of takeout before he rolls his chair up to his desk.

“Vegas, leaving tomorrow. Business class. King bed. That hotel that’s hosting the conference. You know the deal.” He rattles out, taking the bag of food.

“Of course, Sir.” Jimin nods, watching Namjoon walk into his office.

Jimin navigates through a few windows on his screen before settling on a corporate travel portal. He’s able to book the flight without a problem, but the hotel is where he’s running into issues. He quickly dials up Taehyung, waiting for the other side of the call to pick up.

“Are you seeing the same thing?” Jimin asks, and Taehyung clicks his tongue.

“No rooms, right-” Jimin starts. “Just one left…” Taehyung cuts in to finish his sentence.

“But shit, there’s your boss and my boss.” Jimin twirls his finger around the coiled cord, pondering what to do next.

Jimin hears a eureka snap on the other end of the line.

“Crazy ass idea here, Jiminie,” Taehyung chuckles.

"What is it Taehyungie?" Jimin purrs out, the curiosity rising in his voice at the end of the question.

“What if...they just stayed in the same room together? There’s only one King room available, and it’s the last room in the hotel. They’re both so...particular.” Taehyung continues, pressing his mouth into the receiver to keep his voice low.

Jimin throws his head back so far in laughter that his chair tips over. Taehyung hears a crash on the other end of the line, and hears shuffling noises as Jimin gets back up.

“Fell off your chair again?”

“Y-Yeah. God you're a genius! An evil one,” Jimin gathers his breaths.

“I mean...she’s fucking hot. And she’s single as fuck because she’s holed up here every night.” Taehyung whispers into the receiver, making sure to glance over to check that you’re immersed in work.

“And Joon’s smoking hot, too. He’d melt her icy panties right off,” Jimin clicks his tongue before he slaps his desk.

“Dammit, we’re doing it. Think about it. Off work by five? What a world.” Jimin chirps, clicking away at his screen. “To add an extra layer of fun, I’m checking the romance option.”

“Jimin! Jimin. They’re gonna kill each other.” Taehyung giggles, gasping to catch his breath.

“Either they share a room and let romance bloom, or its whack-a-roach at the Motel 6.” Jimin’s tone is confident, but it makes Taehyung erupt into another fit of laughter.

“What? What’s the worst that could happen?” Jimin commands a response, but Taehyung continues to laugh.

“Mmm...we lose our fucking jobs?” Taehyung responds darkly.

The two pause for a second, but continue laughing into their phones.

✹✹✹

“What’re the topline details for the trip, Tae?” You ask, sliding on your sunglasses and pulling a handle up on your hardside luggage.

“Your flight...as you know is in three hours, and your car’s outside right now.” Taehyung walks up to you, handing you an iPad with a copy of your itinerary. “You’ll be staying at the Palazzo where the conference is held, and check-in should be getting started as soon as you arrive.”

“Mwah. You’re the fucking best,” You chef’s kiss your fingers. “This is exactly why I hired you.”

You pull your luggage behind you, but Taehyung puts his hand up.

“Try not to get too excited. Please note that the room I was able to secure for you was the last room at the hotel two days before a conference of this size,” Taehyung says, pulling his hands behind his back.

“Okay...your point being?” You ask, pulling your sunglasses down to look into Taehyung’s eyes.

“Uhm, so, how do I put this?” Taehyung asks himself rhetorically, drawing his foot across the floor nervously.

“Tae...” You growl, your gaze slowly turning into a glare.

“Erm, you’ll have to share the room,” He starts.

“With Kim Namjoon.” He winces as he gets the words out.

Your mouth drops open in shock, and your iPad crashes to the floor.

✹✹✹

You peruse through a luxurious spread of food in the airport lounge: crabsticks with melted butter drizzling from them, exotic finger sandwiches, spreads and dips and the like. You grab tongs, dropping a few items onto a small plate. You quickly look through the drinks on display and decide on sparkling water.

Suddenly, you spot Namjoon arriving in the lounge and you quickly tuck the bottle of sparkling water into your armpit. You grab your plates, quickly followed by your luggage and make a mad dash for a secluded cubby in the back area.

You quickly throw on your headphones and prop up your iPad as you swipe through a few documents.

Just as you stuff a crabstick in your mouth, you feel a tap on your shoulder. You look at the fingers, then up the veined arm wrapped with white cotton fabric, and you see Namjoon.

He licks his lips, letting out a shy chuckle just before he speaks.

“Did you really just try to avoid me?”

“Mm-maybh, ‘nd wh-r about it?” You blink at him, your words unintelligible as you slowly chew a mouthful of seafood. You furrow your brows, slightly irked by Namjoon seeing you in this state.

“I’m sure those two jokesters told you,” He continues, and you shrug as you delicately bite a small cucumber and cream cheese sandwich. “That you’ll be my roommate for the next two days.”

“I didn’t hear it, and I won’t acknowledge it,” You retort, dropping the last bite of the sandwich in your mouth. “I’m going to find another room if it’s the last thing I do.” You dust crumbs from your hands but stop as Namjoon lets out another light chuckle.

“There aren’t anymore in the whole of Vegas. I checked myself. The only other hotel left in town is the Trump Tower,” He crosses his arms and then shakes his head. “And no one wants to be caught dead there.”

“Fuck!” You can’t help but scream out, and a few people turn to look in your direction. You bury your head in your hands, and comb your hands through your hair in frustration.

Namjoon taps your shoulder again and you look up.

“Finger sandwich?” He asks, licking a finger as you glare up at him.

✹✹✹

A flight attendant walks by the two of you to do a visual safety check, and you’re in the middle seat -- Namjoon in the aisle.

“Champagne? Champagne? Water?” Another attendant walks by with a tray full of alcoholic beverages. You spot her, reaching over Namjoon to grab a drink off the tray. She lets out a gasp, shock entangling her features.

The beverage quickly makes its way down your throat, and you slam the plastic cup back on the tray.

“Sorry. She’s not having the best of days,” Namjoon whispers to her and finishes his off as well, handing it to the attendant. She scoffs, continuing on down the aisle.

You shuffle your hand in your bag to locate your iPad, slipping it from its sleeve. As you look at the screen you sigh, your eyes roving over the deep cracks.

“Please turn all devices to airplane mode as we prepare for departure…”

The plane starts to rattle over the tarmac, turning to face a new direction every so often.

“What the heck happened to that thing?” Namjoon asks, leaning over to look at the fractured device.

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” You respond without looking at him. You swipe through a screen of apps before clicking into Keynote. “I scanned through the presentation, and Yoongi was nowhere near done. We’ll need to wrap up by tomorrow evening.”

“We’ll also need to submit some requests to the photographer and Design team so that the remaining graphics and specs will be ready by the time we land in six hours…”

Namjoon nods, watching as you swipe through the slides, breezing through improvements for each. Your words seem to fade out, and he finds himself enamored by your gung-ho nature as he watches you speak.

“Got it?” You ask and notice Namjoon is silent, causing you to turn your head in his direction.

You search his eyes for a response, noticing his pupils are blown as he looks at you. He covers his throat so as to not give away the unexpected heat rising up his skin.

“Sure thing. I’ll have the Product team get right on all of that,” Namjoon responds before he looks down to type an email into his phone.

You look back down at your iPad, nibbling at the inside of your lip as you tuck your hair behind your ear.

You take a second to press your head back to the seat as the plane takes off.

Namjoon reaches below the seat in front of him and pulls out his iPad to begin typing information into the slides. He glances over at you furiously typing and swiping before you grimace.

“Ow, fff-” You growl, looking at your index finger.

Blood starts to pool in a small cut, and Namjoon takes notice. You look over at him and watch him reach into his bag to pull out a travel-sized first aid kit. He takes out a small alcohol wipe and grabs your finger, pinching the towelette to it. You wince, sucking air in through your teeth.

“You should really get that fixed.” He says as he takes a small bandaid and covers the cut.

“Uhm, I will. Thank you.” You say quietly as you search his eyes, and then tuck your hair behind your ear again.

You break eye contact with him as your heart starts to patter in your chest...and fuck. You know you're in trouble from here on out.

Namjoon chuckles to himself through his nose as he takes a world newspaper from an attendant.

The newspaper covers his face and you sneak to observe your finger -- trying to not let a smile curl up on the edges of your lips.

✹✹✹

“Checking in?”

A woman asks you in a singsong voice and you nod, motioning for Namjoon to give you his identification card.

You're tired, hungry and irritable from the flight and certainly not willing to engage with this ultra-chipper woman right now.

“Ugh, beautiful! How long have you two been together?” She asks, smiling as she looks at the two of you.

“We’re not a couple and we’ve only just met, why do you ask?” You inquire, swiping through a few things on a digital screen anchored to the desk in front of you.

“Oh...you’re not?” You stop what you’re doing and look up at her. “No. We’re here for the TechX conference.”

The woman releases a nervous breath from her throat and readjusts her blouse.

“Well...oh my, the room I have booked for the two of you is one of our most romantic rooms.” She giggles out nervously, not sure what to do as she hands you a sleeve of keycards.

“I’m gonna fucking kill Taehyung when I get back,” You grumble, taking your credit card and the sleeve before you march off toward the elevator.

The elevator lobby is packed, and both you and Namjoon slip into a crowded elevator.

You find yourself suddenly sandwiched between the back of a woman and the front of Namjoon, and you tighten your muscles so you don’t make bodily contact with either of them.

The elevator jerks as it reaches the floor before yours, and Namjoon collapses over you. He looks down at you as his hands land to press on the wall on either side of your head as he holds himself up.

“God, sorry,” He groans as he waits for other people to exit before he can steadily stand on his own two feet. Your eyes grow wide as you look up at him, a prickly heat creeping up your throat. His face is so close to yours from the fall that you can feel his breaths on your skin.

“Are you okay?” He asks, looking over at you as he’s able to stand up straight.

Namjoon thinks nothing of the brief moment, but you gulp and give him a silent nod.

“This is us.” He says before he clears the way, watching you walk out in front of him.

✹✹✹

As you enter the room, you hear smooth jazz floating from a digital radio.

You drop to your knees: you see rose petals on the bed, a bucket with ice and champagne, a towel swan and a bouquet of additional roses wrapped with packages of chocolate. You drop your head into your hands and laugh out loud, and Namjoon looks down at you. His eyes quickly scan the room and he lets out a screech before he covers his stomach to laugh.

“I-I s-swear we were set up,” You gasp for air through your laughs. “God.”

“The wall between the shower and our room is frosted. Frosted!” Namjoon yells as he waves his hand through it to show you as you approach.

You both can’t help but giggle.

“God. I haven’t laughed that hard in so long,” You mention, swiping a tear hanging on at the edge of your eye. Namjoon smiles, his dimples lighting up his face.

There’s a sudden silence as your eyes meet, and you try to find something to busy yourself with -- deciding on unraveling the towel swan.

“Anyway, I’m gonna shower. We can just relax for now as we wait for everything to come in.” You quickly open your luggage and pull out a swimsuit and a cover up before heading into the bathroom.

“And oh. Please be an adult...no peeking?” You raise your brows as you pop your head from the bathroom.

Namjoon nods in agreement, beginning to unpack his luggage. He grabs his clothes nonchalantly to head to a nearby drawer, but he unintentionally catches your silhouette in the shower.

Namjoon gulps as he feels a tightness growing in his jeans. He clears his throat, continuing on with placing his clothes into the drawer.

✹✹✹

“Okay, okay, yes. I’m so sorry. It was the best we could do under the circumstances, and yes-” Taehyung nods his head as Jimin takes another bite of a sushi roll.

“Oof, was that her?” Jimin asks, swiping his mouth with a napkin.

“God, yeah. She’s pissed. And she yelled. She never yells at me, Jiminie.” Taehyung pouts.

Jimin laughs as he throws his head back, rubbing Taehyung’s back.

“Don’t worry Taehyungie,” He giggles. “I’m sure they’ll thank us soon enough.”

Taheyung smiles at him and opens his mouth to receive one of the rolls on his tongue.

The two giggle as they look at each other, mouths full.

✹✹✹

You swim in the Olympic-sized pool at the hotel before you pop up from underneath.

A hand runs through your hair to smooth it on your head before you start to float on your back. The intense rays of the sun start to heat up your skin, but you nearly moan at how good it feels.

Namjoon settles down in a lounge chair before he sees you with your eyes closed on the water.

You only have on a swimsuit, but in a man’s mind it was the near-equivalent of seeing you in your underwear.

Namjoon attempts to sneak away before you can spot him, but your eyes open just as he does.

“Hey! Kim Namjoon! Is that you?” You shout, paddling up to the edge of the pool. He grimaces and meets you at the edge, looking down at you.

“Did you really just try to avoid me?” You throw his question from earlier back at him, smirking.

“What? No.” Namjoon scoffs and clenches his jaw -- a bit delighted, a bit turned on.

You tilt your head and raise your eyebrows, still awaiting a real answer. His thoughts are still racing for a clever response and you can tell he’s caught off-guard.

You emerge from the water, toweling your hair and body. His eyes widen as he tries to keep them focused on your face, and you smirk at him again.

"Cat got your tongue?" You tease, wringing out your hair.

The devilish look in your eyes shoots straight to his water trunks and he presses his legs together. He quickly wraps the towel in his hand around his waist to cover himself before you detect anything, and your eyes follow his movements.

“Uhm, you know what...I don’t feel too well,” His voice trembles. “I’m gonna go back to the room.”

Namjoon takes off in a hurry, and you scoff as your brows come together in confusion.

✹✹✹

Namjoon lets out a few strained moans as he tugs at cock -- now rock hard and bulging with thick veins. His eyes squeeze shut as you come into memory, and he attempts to regulate his arousal through deep, frantic exhales.

The way the sun was kissing your body, the movement of the water as it drizzled down into the valley between your breasts, the smirk and banter that lit his desire alight. He gasps as he strokes his cock faster, his grip growing firmer by the second. He feels his balls tighten, his cock growing stiffer with lust.

He growls as he nears cumming, taking a moment to spit on in his hand and spread it generously over his shaft. He jerks his cock as fast as he can, his wrist snapping in different directions to switch up the sensation of his movements. He bucks into his hand at the last few moments, wondering what it’d be like to have you atop his cock instead.

Namjoon cries out before his cock hardens, his thick load pulsing in random patterns across his chest.

"Fuck," He suddenly hears footsteps floating down the hall and he swiftly pulls his trunks up.

He grabs a few tissues from the night table to quickly wipe himself off.

“Namjoon? I’m back,” You announce as you open the door. “The pool’s great, you can’t miss it.”

You enter and he tosses the tissues to the ground.

You observe that Namjoon’s form is rigid and that he’s sitting up on the bed as he scrolls through his phone. Something’s weird and quiet about the energy in the room, but you just shrug it off.

“Hey.” His tone is stoic, but you can sense his voice is caught in his throat before he clears it.

“Should we close out the final pieces of the presentation tonight?” Namjoon continues, his eyes now following you as you walk around the room.

“Sure thing, eight sound good?” You ask, smiling in his direction.

All he can do is look at you with his eyes wide and nod.

✹✹✹

“How’d you find this place?” You ask, picking up one of the books stacked on the table for display.

The rest of the bar is almost like a library -- straight from Beauty and the Beast. You look up and around as bookshelves from every angle are filled with books.

"Your drinks." A waiter arrives, carefully placing each drink on the table.

"I like to wander and I stumbled upon it. I frequent here when I come to Vegas," Namjoon smiles at you, satisfied with himself. "It's a nice place to unwind and get work done outside of the hotel." You nod, impressed with his response.

"I love all of the giant KAWS figurines here, too," You mention, and he turns his head to look at you. "The valuation on those in a few years is gonna be insane."

"Oh, you like art, too?" He tries to hide the gush in his voice, but you chuckle to yourself.

"Sure do." You reply, taking a few small sips from your cup as you look at him.

As Namjoon sips at his Jameson whiskey on the rocks, you can't help but absorb his carefully slicked back hair and the leather jacket on his frame.

Namjoon notices from his peripheral and bites his lip as subtly as he can, drawing his iPad from his briefcase.

After a few minutes, he looks up from what he's typing to see you've already downed half of your drink. You drop the cup from your lips and your eyes grow wide with embarrassment.

"God, sorry, please don't judge me," You chuckle as you peel the drink from your mouth and lick your lips. "They only have good French Martinis in two places in the world. Vegas, and Europe."

Namjoon chuckles back at you, and you notice his eyes float down to your lips.

Your breath quickens for a second, but he breaks eye contact by looking down. He purses his lips and his dimples pop out before he looks at you through his lashes.

"You've got a little something..." He motions at the foam on your upper lip, and you attempt to swipe it with your tongue. He shakes his head a few times as you continue licking your lips to no avail.

"May I?" He asks warmly. With a nod from you, he takes a miniature napkin to wipe your top lip. He's so close that you can smell the spice of his cologne, and you look into his eyes.

A slight panic forms in his gaze before he pulls back.

“There.” He says without looking at you, placing the napkin on the table.

Both of you shake the interaction off, and you reach into your bag to pull out your iPad.

"I had Taehyung drop in the graphics. All we have to do is finish up the text," You say as you start to type, and Namjoon brings his focus back to his slides.

"Got it. I had Jimin drop in the brief outline he retrieved from the Product Lead, so we can just work from that as we go along." Namjoon chimes in, and you nod.

"I'll activate the full social strategy and content team back at the office," You continue as you type. "I'll let them know that we're almost locked so they can get ready to fire up the site and social promotions."

Namjoon smiles to himself again, absorbing the incredible synergy between the two of you. It only pushes him harder...and makes him harder. He clenches his jaw as he feels the sensation filling his lower half, but he shakes his leg to stay focused.

"Is there something wrong?" You ask, looking down at his leg.

"Hmm?" He asks, not even noticing his leg still moving.

"Oh!" He says looking down and stretching his foot out, but it bumps yours instead.

"Fuck. Sorry!" He yelps. You chortle, continuing on with writing.

You look at him for a bit through your peripheral, admiring his absolute focus on the task at hand. He picks up a pen to draw it around his plump lips, and you can't help but feel a twinge between your thighs. You inhale and let out a breath to take your focus off the sensation.

Just as you do, a crackle of thunder rips through the air and a few customers gasp and break into a din.

You and Namjoon look at each other, and a few flashes of lightning light up each of your features in the dim bar.

"We should get going before it rains," Namjoon says as he starts to pack his bag. "We can finish this up at the hotel."

You follow suit.

✹✹✹

As the two of you walk outside, the rain begins to trickle. Despite the warm Vegas air from earlier, the temperature significantly dropped in the evening and it made you shiver.

Namjoon notices, and despite him being cold -- he drops his coat on your shoulders.

"Oh. Please don't do that on my behalf." You say as you look up at him, but he keeps walking.

You couldn't worry long, noticing as raindrops begin to soak Namjoon's white tee.

"Just up here," He looks down at you and points at the hotel, but it suddenly starts to pour. He grabs your hand to quickly pull you across the street before the light changes, and you pull his jacket over your head.

Namjoon doesn't stop running until the two of you land in an empty elevator. He sighs, slicking his wet hair back with a hand. You notice that his shirt is soaked, seeping into the grooves of his firm chest and abdomen.

You arrive at the door to your room, nervously shuffling in your bag for your keycard. You can feel Namjoon's warm breath at the back of your neck, and you feel goosebumps form on your skin.

"Here." He says, reaching around you to insert his key. You feel as his body heat radiates around you as you walk through the door.

As you enter the room you shiver at the blast of air conditioning -- pulling Namjoon's coat further over your shoulders.

Namjoon returns from the bathroom with a towel, and removes his jacket from your frame.

“Sorry, it’s totally my fault for suggesting a place so far away,” He wraps the warm fluffy towel over your shoulders, and you close your eyes in comfort.

"No, it was really fun," You open your eyes after a few seconds, shaking your head as you look up at him.

Namjoon almost looks away as you open your eyes, but his gaze fixates on yours -- causing you to lose the breath in your throat as you quickly look down.

"Thank you." Your voice only manages to come out in a whisper. You somehow get the courage to let your eyes scan his body, and then look back up to meet him still looking down at you.

Namjoon’s chest lightly rises and falls as neither of you break eye contact -- his eyes floating to your lips. He tucks your hair behind your ear, and your breath catches in your throat. His thumb moves to trace over your jawline and your bottom lip as he moves in to hover his lips over yours.

The air buzzes with a sparkling heat as your lips brush together -- neither of you wanting to be the first to make a move.

“We shouldn’t do this, right?” He whispers, the tip of his nose grazing over yours.

"No..." You whisper back, a bated desire in your voice.

“Can I tell you a secret?” You give him a slow nod, drawing your bottom lip in-between your teeth.

You lick your lips and he tilts your head to the side, his own lips inside the shell of your ear before he speaks.

“That red dress...from yesterday? It was all I could think about for the rest of the night.” The deep vibrations from his voice causes you to let out a satisfied moan as you tilt your head back.

“Does that turn you on?” He asks, his hands sliding down your body to grip your hips.

A heated lust overcomes you, and you let your lips feverishly embrace his. Your hands roam up his wet body and land over his shoulders before you pull him closer to you by the back of his neck. The momentum dizzies you both and your back slams into the wall.

His hands move to your waist as he covers you, pulling you flush against his hard, wet body. It causes your lips to part, and he slips his searing tongue into your mouth. You easily lose the upper hand as he grips your ass, causing you to let out a whine into his mouth. His plush lips kiss at your neck, and you run your hands through his damp hair as his kisses reach your collarbones.

Namjoon moves to wipe all of the items off a cabinet near you, and the chocolate and roses crash to the floor. He throws you on top of the surface, his lips eagerly gliding over yours.

Namjoon's hands roam up your dress and on the outside of your thighs as his fingers tuck under the top of the fabric of your underwear. He tugs at the fabric as if he's going to remove it, but he jerks it up hard instead -- soothing the growing ache between your thighs. He twists the fabric in a bunch so he can keep pulling at it in intervals to soothe your clit.

Your head falls back in desperation and he takes the opportunity to suck a hickey into the exposed skin. He nibbles at the skin harder and you gasp, gripping the back of his mullet.

Namjoon growls into your ear as you pull his hair, and yanks your underwear down each of your thighs.

Just as he does, he feels his wrist buzz. He pulls from your lips to look at his watch.

[Assistant: Park Jimin.]

Namjoon lets out a long exhale through his nose. He rests his forehead on yours, both of your lips still swollen and vibrating from the session.

"I have to take this," He lets out in a deep exhale before touching a green icon on his watch to receive the call.

"Are you alright, Sir?" Jimin asks, hearing Namjoon’s intense breaths cooling on his end.

"Just came from the gym, don't worry about me. What’s on fire?" He breathes out, and the edges of your lips curl upward at the lie.

"Nothing at all, Sir. I've just called to give your daily rundown as requested." Namjoon sighs, forgetting it’s something he did in fact ask for.

“Can I call you back in five?” Namjoon asks, and you shake your head.

After Jimin hangs up, Namjoon immediately dives back into your lips. You savor it for a few seconds, but you tease him a few times as you pull away.

"I think we should finish up in the morning and get to bed," You whisper, your hand floating down his cheek. "Long day tomorrow." You bite your lip as you look into his eyes.

Namjoon lightly growls in disappointment as he pulls you down from the top of the cabinet.

You lift your hair up into a ponytail, and you turn around and look over your shoulder.

“Mind helping me with the zip?” You ask, and you feel the heat from his breath at the back of your neck drawing goosebumps from your skin. His breaths shallow out with every inch of the zip, and he lets out a light groan as it ends at the curve of your back -- just before your ass.

“Thanks.” You whisper as you head toward the bathroom, looking over your shoulder once more with a grin before you disappear around the corner.

Namjoon waits to make sure you’re gone before he screams into his fist out of frustration.

✹✹✹

“Seeya, I’m gonna head over to the conference hall to start getting prepped,” Namjoon mentions, stuffing a croissant in his mouth as he picks up his briefcase. “You said you’ll be a few minutes behind me, right?” He asks, using his free hand to push his glasses up his nose.

“Uhm, sure! Yes! Yesyesyesyes. Have a nice day!” You nod eagerly, your eyes wide as you watch him head toward the door. He furrows his brows, finding you a bit too enthusiastic.

As the door shuts, you hear his footfalls disappear down the hall and you toss your robe to the ground.

You take in a deep inhale. You knew you needed to be focused for this presentation, and you definitely couldn't have what happened last night top of mind.

Where to start? Him eyeing you in the office? The wet t-shirt? Oh, yes. There.

You sink down in the bed and slowly spread your legs, your fingers gliding over your already wet lips. You gasp in pleasure as you recall his plump lips dragging on your neck -- his teeth embedded in the sensitive flesh. It’s enough for you to dip a finger inside of yourself -- make it two -- before you let out a moan.

The thing that really made you wet, though, was his mind. The fucking book bar? Kudos. His knowledge of the product? Points. A tattered copy of a book about love? You were practically dripping down your thighs at the thought. Those nerdy glasses he wore before he left this morning? Fuck me.

It’s all enough to make you cum until-

Bzz. Beep.

You quickly draw the covers up on your frame and you can feel your cheeks burning as Namjoon enters the room.

“I...left my coffee...” He says cautiously, seeing your robe on the floor before his eyes meet yours. “Uhm, sorry?” His voice comes out in a high, questioning pitch -- and he grabs his coffee before he hurries himself out the door.

As the door shuts, you kick your feet around in the bed and then slap your forehead.

Fuck. He caught you.

#bts imagine #btssmutclub #btsbookclub #bangtanidx #bts smut #namjoon fanfiction #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #bts fanfiction

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emmy-writes-sometimes · 4 years ago

Text

First Aid

Pairing: Jaeden x Evans!reader

Summary: Jaeden gets his heart broken. You’re the one who picks up the pieces. Inspiration: this video with Jaeden to Gus Dapperton’s song First Aid.

“Hey, have you seen Jae?” You asked your dad after making another loop around the first floor of the house. Your dad, pouring another beer for himself, shook his head and shrugged, glancing around the room.

“He was talking to Jordan a minute ago, he took a call. Maybe he’s outside?” Your dad suggested. You nodded and went to try to find him, but he wasn’t outside, either. Then you realized he could have gone upstairs, where it was quiet, and walked around.

You finally found him talking on the phone in the red LED lights in your hall bathroom, and even though you knew you shouldn’t, you listened.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He asked in a defensive tone. You knew him well enough to know that he was about to cry from the sound of his voice. “I’m not cheating on you! What the fuck? Why would you ever think I would do that to you? Why would you think I’m that person?”

“Then who is she?” You heard the other voice ask. It was his girlfriend. His long distance girlfriend, who you’d only met once or twice as she came to visit. She was awful to him, borderline emotionally abusive actually, but you had always just kept your mouth shut because he seemed happy. Seemed.

“She’s my co-star’s daughter,” he answered. He angrily stuck a hand in his pocket. “And she’s my best friend. And if you can’t handle that...”

“The girl best friend. Great move, Jae. You know what? I’m just so done with you. I shouldn’t have agreed to this in the first place. I knew you’d cheat on me, it was just a matter of time.”

“I didn’t cheat on you!” He said loudly. You jumped at the sound of his voice. “God, fuck, you know that. But you’re right. I don’t want to be with someone who can’t trust me.”

“Fine, then we’re done,” the girl said. She hung up the phone and a dial tone swept through the almost empty bathroom. You heard Jaeden sigh and you heard the unmistakeable sound of the phone slapping against the bathroom counter. Jaeden sniffled, muttering another fuck under his breath.

“Who’s out there?” He asked finally. You walked a few feet into the doorway and sighed, nodding before he could even ask if you’d heard him. “How much did you hear?”

“Everything,” you responded. “I’m sorry.” He let out a huff as he realized he’d hit his phone hard enough to crack the screen protector. You watched as he retreated into himself, walking over to the tub and sitting down inside. It still smelled like your lavender body wash and a little bit like the vanilla and patchouli candle you’d lit in there earlier. The smells was comforting to him - you were comforting to him.

“No, it’s...” He sniffled. “She wasn’t wrong, I guess.” You tilted your head a little, curious, and shut the door behind you. You locked it, too, and put your own phone on top of his on the counter. You turned and got into the tub, too, sitting down beside him. You sat a little far from him, but close enough that your shoulders were touching.

“But you weren’t cheating on her?” You half asked, half told him.

“Not outright, but emotionally, I guess, I’ve been super distant and she knew that and she wasn’t wrong. I should’ve broken up with her before this happened. I feel like such a shitty person.”

“Yeah, but it took that conversation to realize it,” you shrugged.

“I was all but cheating on her,” he said in a shaky voice. He shifted a little and put his head on your shoulder, crossing his arms against his chest. You braced yourself, squeezing your thumb in your fist until he let out a single sob. You released your thumb after that, feeling one of his tears drop onto the sleeve of your shirt. You sat there with him as he cried it all out. It was maybe ten or fifteen minutes and you didn’t say a single word. You just reached one of your hands to his back and rubbed it up and down, trying to make him feel a little better.

“I feel like such a piece of shit,” he finally sniffled. “Like, I was basically doing what she said, I was basically cheating on her, and I promised... I always promised myself I could never, ever do that to anyone. And I did.”

“With who?” He didn’t answer for a second, but he looked up at you and you knew. He didn’t have to say anything, but he did.

“You,” he said as he blinked back more tears.

“What?” You were in shock; it was like the world closed in on you for a second before the flood gates opened again and let in everything you’d ever felt about him, and you realized that yeah. You two were...

“Tell me you don’t feel like we’re closer than we should be,” he said. “I’ve literally slept in your bed. You call me every time you get home from my place because you know that I’ll freak out if you don’t tell me you got home safe. You literally buy me coffee all the time, we... We’ve cuddled a million times.”

“Not since you’ve been with her, because that would be...”

“Actually cheating.”

“But we haven’t.”

“But we may as well because I’ve literally felt the way I should feel about her for you. It’s you. It’s always been you and I don’t know whether I’m just seeing that now or I’ve known for a while, but I am, and I have, and... I’m not making any sense.” His voice trailed off. “And you’re sitting with me in a bathroom in the tub because I’m crying.”

“Friends...”

“Friends don’t look at each other the way I know we do.” Your hand stopped on his back and he sat up, looking at you for the first time that night. He was right - friends don’t look at each other the way he was looking at you and you knew you were looking at him. Another tear fell from his cheek and you wiped it away without a single second thought. At the same time, he moved toward you and your hand anchored itself on his cheek.

He kissed you. His skin was baby soft underneath your hand. His lips had ridges in them because of the salty snacks he’d eaten a few minutes ago. But you kissed him back, pulling him lightly toward you as your fingers moved on his cheek. You felt a tear as salty as his lips on the tip of your finger. And then you realized what you were doing and you pulled away, leaving him more confused than ever.

“Jae,” you muttered. “You’re so messed up right now. Are you sure you’re even...”

“Yes, I’m serious,” he cut you off. “Are you?” You nodded.

“Yes, but... We shouldn’t do this right now.”

“You’re right.” You removed your hand from his cheek and put it on his shoulder, looking at him in the red lights. “I’ll come pick you up tomorrow morning. We should talk.”

“Sounds good,” you nodded. “I’ll, um, leave first.” You stood up, sniffling, not realizing you had been about to cry too. You walked out of the bathroom after grabbing your phone and went across the hall to your room. Your face was hot from the kiss, your hand still shaking. You sat in your room for the rest of the night, resisting the urge to text your best friend.

The next morning came and he picked you up, as promised, knowing that you always woke up early on Saturdays because you were used to waking up early during the week. The cold bit at your cheeks and your nose and your ears as you sat with him outside of the coffee shop in downtown Boston that you’d showed him when you first met. You didn’t know what to say, and he didn’t either. He ran his hand through his platinum-dyed hair and sniffled, wiping his runny nose with his jacket sleeve.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he said. “That was a lot to put on you.”

“You weren’t wrong, though,” you responded. He didn’t say anything right away. Instead he put his arm behind your shoulder, sighing and crossing one of his legs over the other.

“Yeah, but I shouldn’t have sprung that on you. And I shouldn’t have made you...”

“I kissed you back, Jaeden, what don’t you get about that?” You snapped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“No, it’s fine. You’re right. You did kiss me back. So our friendship is effectively ruined.” That made you smile a little bit - the first time you beat his ass in Mario Kart he’d said the same thing.

“How ruined?” You asked. He took a second.

“Bad enough that all I can think about is kissing you again.” You smiled, and so did he. “Bad enough that I know you’re the one I want to be with, and I was lying to my ex and myself by thinking you weren’t.”

“Did you talk to her?”

“Yeah. She’s not mad, she’s just...”

“Hurt?” Jaeden nodded.

“But she said she knew, too.”

“I think I did. Somewhere,” you said as you remembered the shaky, almost puppy-wag feeling you got whenever Jaeden walked in the room. “So what are we gonna do?”

“I was thinking maybe I could beat your ass in Mario Kart. And then we can do this the right way and go out or something?” You grinned.

“Yeah. I’d like that. But you know I’m gonna beat you, right?” He chuckled, warmth returning to his cheeks and his eyes as he broke into a smile.

“Never.”

#jaeden martell x evans!reader #jaeden martell x reader #jaeden martell fluff #jaeden martell angst #jaeden x evans!reader

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lambden · 3 years ago

Text

Here’s some belated Geraskier fic that I finally get to post, as last week’s flash fic challenge has wrapped up! This was originally published anonymously; kudos to those of you who guessed that I was the author. Head to the collection to see the picture prompt that inspired this, as well as view the other works. I've been having a great time participating in fandom events like this; I promise there's more on the way!!! (Read on AO3)

Up To Date

prompt: "You were so hot that when you asked if I was the blind date you were looking for, I lied and said yes. But then your actual date comes up to introduce themselves and I'm so embarrassed."

G, 2.3K words, modern AU, Geralt/Jaskier

It shouldn’t be this difficult to find inspiration. He never used to struggle like this in high school, finding his muse in everyone and everything. Even his mundane trip on the city bus to and from school would give Jaskier hundreds of ideas, for poems too personal to publish or lyrics too deep for his band to use. Back then he had thought he lacked discipline and experience, so the clear choice had been to take his interest in poetry one step further and go to university.

The problem, as he’s now discovering halfway through his second year, is that he maybe hates university. He loves it, of course; he loves the praise from his professors and peers, he loves learning about the history of literature and art. He even loves the academic rivalries that wax and wane every term, and the competitions that ignite a mean streak in him he didn’t know he had.

But his assignments are of worse quality than anything he’s ever written before, and try as he might, they aren’t getting any better. Putting words on the page just to meet a count is impossible for a poet, not when the space and thoughts and images are all supposed to be cohesive. Poems used to flow from him so freely he hadn’t been able to keep track and now his well of motivation has just about run dry.

That’s what led him here, for the third time this week. His creative dysfunction has forced him into the day-to-day habits of an elderly man who spends his days reading in public gardens. It hasn’t helped so far, but maybe this third time will be the charm. Jaskier finds his favorite place: right by the koi pond, next to a strange art installation with ivy crawling along it. He sits at the base of the giant question mark, dropping his backpack onto the bench beside him.

“This better fucking work,” mutters Jaskier to himself and the koi, opening today’s book to a random poem. He refuses to let his mind wander at first, gluing his eyes to the page and reading with intense intent. The first poem he sees is about love.

Groaning, Jaskier flips the page. The next poem is also about love.

The third poem is about war, and Jaskier thinks that might be alright, until he realizes what this long-dead poet is trying to tell him, which is that war is also about love. Because it is, of course, but also of course it is. Jaskier scowls deeply and flips through the book to a random page, hoping to find something to spark inspiration that won’t just make him feel hopeless and single and hopelessly single.

Before Jaskier can get through the title, someone speaks to him, startling him so badly he jumps. “Are you Yennefer’s friend?”

Jaskier scrambles to catch the book by its cover and nearly drops it. He hadn’t even heard anyone approach. “Sorry?”

The stranger audibly sighs, as if Jaskier has inconvenienced him terribly. With all the force of someone announcing their presence at their own death row, he grits out, “I’m here for a blind date she set up. With you.” Jaskier looks up at the man and sees him wearing a blank expression, pointing at the question mark in front of the bench. “By the thing.”

“Oh,” Jaskier says, still looking at the man. It takes a second for the words to sink in because the stranger is perhaps the most handsome person Jaskier has ever seen. He could write a thousand poems and still fail to capture his beauty. He has golden eyes, for one, and a sharply chiseled face. Even grimacing like this, his jaw is set in the loveliest way, and his stern brow is framed by platinum white hair, half-tied up. He’s wearing a fairly gloomy outfit for a blind date, but maybe he told whoever Yennefer is that he would be dressed in black. Regardless, he’s making it work.

The gorgeous stranger is still waiting for an answer, scowl worsening as Jaskier tries to make his decision about how the fuck to handle this. Really, there’s no decision at all— he just impulsively takes the leap. All his best ideas come when he’s stumbling forward blind anyway. “Yes,” he finally says, jumping to his feet. “Yes, um, I’m sorry, you caught me off-guard. I’m Jaskier.”

“Geralt.” They’re of a similar height, but Geralt is so much wider. Jaskier wants to climb him like ivy on a question mark. “I’m sorry I interrupted.”

“It’s fine! I got here a while ago. You know, can’t be too early!” Jaskier has never been early for anything in his life. He sits down again and shoves his books into his bag as quickly as he can. Geralt shifts his weight back and forth between his feet before awkwardly sitting on the bench next to Jaskier, looking out at the garden. “I’ve never done this kind of thing before,” he admits, which is true. His usual lies and schemes are much less chaotic.

Geralt doesn’t reply to that, leaving Jaskier to privately wonder about his dating life. He stares at the plants, giving the impression that he might be hideously nervous. Jaskier has no idea why someone like Geralt would be nervous about anything but it’s an awkward situation, to say the least. Right as Jaskier’s about to suggest they get out of here before Geralt’s real date shows up, the man asks, “What were you reading?”

“I was studying, sort of,” Jaskier says. “I’m a student.” Then abruptly he wonders how much Geralt knows about who he’s supposed to be, and he swallows, pulse racing.

Glancing over, Geralt’s yellow eyes meet his. There’s no obvious doubt there, just a curiosity. “What’s your major?”

“Poetry,” Jaskier grins as their conversation starts to pick up something resembling a rhythm. “What about you, are you in school?”

“No,” says Geralt, cutting his dreams of a normal date conversation short. “Are you any good? At writing poetry?”

What a weirdo. Jaskier’s heart thrums. “I’d like to think so!” This, at least, is something he knows how to talk about. Except, of course, it isn’t really the truth. “Well… recently, I’ve been in a bit of a creative rut. Just waiting for the right burst of inspiration to come along.” Perhaps this blind date that he’s stolen will suffice, but he doesn’t say that. “This place is great for that, actually. I mean, it hasn’t worked yet, but I’m sure any day those fish will sing for me.”

Geralt blinks. Jaskier feels a bead of sweat run down the back of his neck. He tries a different tactic, crossing his ankles and asking politely, “Are you a reader? What kind of things do you enjoy?”

“Nonfiction,” Geralt answers, slightly stilted. His gaze drifts over to the plants once more. “Not biographies, more like… encyclopedias and field journals. I like field journals.”

“Alright,” Jaskier says, shrinking into himself. This is going terribly. “I’ll have to go bribe some scientists for their field journals, then.” The corner of Geralt’s lip twitches, and Jaskier’s stomach flips. Gorgeous and weird and maybe, although he’s trying his best to hide it behind seven layers of nerves, maybe a little amused by Jaskier. Jaskier is going to fuck him right here in the garden. “Do you take journals of your own for work?”

A rather roundabout way of asking ‘what the fuck is it that you do’ but somehow, it lands. “I’m a… researcher,” Geralt mumbles. How very vague. “But I don’t publish my findings very often.”

Jaskier raises an eyebrow. “Do you work… for a company?”

“No.”

“Right. So you’re just keeping all your findings to yourself for no good reason at all.”

“No.”

“Then it sounds like you’re a pretty terrible researcher, actually.”

Geralt’s eyes flash as he turns to glare at Jaskier. “What?”

“Well, if you don’t share what you’ve found with anyone—”

“My… colleagues—”

“Aha! So you have colleagues!” Jaskier pokes Geralt’s side. “You aren’t just holed up in some depressing storage unit with months and months of research just for you.”

Once more, Geralt half-smirks. Not even half— more like a one-fifth smirk. “Years,” he admits.

“Years…” Jaskier tilts his head to the side thoughtfully. “Why do I have the feeling that you’re perhaps a significant number of years older than me?”

“I had the same thought when I saw you sitting here,” Geralt mumbles.

Jaskier snorts. “Seems like something Yennefer should have warned us about, perhaps. I would ask you directly how old you are, but I’m fairly certain that the only response I will get is a very gruff no.”

“No,” says Geralt, nearly smiling.

Making a show of pouting, Jaskier folds his arms over his chest. “Is that your favorite word?”

“No.” Geralt breaks into laughter as he repeats himself, and his whole face lights up with it. Jaskier laughs too, delighted by how joyous Geralt looks. He’s even more beautiful when he’s happy like this, and Jaskier wants very badly for this not to be their last date. “If I tell you my favorite word, you’re bound to judge me for it, as a poet.”

“As a poet, I swear not to mock you,” Jaskier raises his hand to cover his heart, barely restraining himself from grinning.

But before Geralt can share whatever it is, someone else approaches their bench. A second stranger— a woman about his height with short brown hair, wearing a pretty blouse. Jaskier notices her much more quickly than he’d noticed Geralt, and he makes the connection instantly. This can’t possibly end well.

“Oh, Yen wasn’t kidding,” says the stranger, eyeing Geralt. “You are very distinctive!”

Geralt stares back at her, slack-jawed for a moment. “What?”

“I’m Renfri,” Geralt’s date introduces herself. Jaskier wishes the earth would open up and swallow him whole, especially when she glances over at him. Her gaze slides back to Geralt, as does Jaskier’s, and yeah, he is very fucking distinctive with that white hair and those yellow eyes. Damn. “My friend Yennefer set us up for a blind date…?”

As Jaskier contemplates throwing himself into the koi pond, Geralt twists to stare at him. Jaskier can only imagine how mortified he must look right now; his face burns as both Renfri and Geralt look his way. Perhaps Renfri will figure it out before Geralt says anything; she looks like a smart woman.

But Geralt just gets up, dusting himself off and shaking his head. “No,” he tells Renfri, which would almost be funny if it weren’t the weirdest thing Jaskier has ever seen anyone do. Then Geralt leaves, turning to walk away from both of them, leaving Jaskier and Renfri alone together in the garden. Renfri frowns, watching him go with obvious increasing confusion. Jaskier also jumps to his feet, equally confused but determined not to lose sight of Geralt.

He chases the man— and it does feel like a chase, Geralt must be fucking speed-walking away— and finally tracks him down well outside the garden. Geralt is thundering down a set of stairs leading to a parking lot and he doesn’t stop at the sound of Jaskier careening towards him. Only when Jaskier desperately calls his name does he finally stop, slowing until he reaches the bottom landing and then standing there, still.

“I’m sorry,” Jaskier calls down the stairs, breathless. He begins to descend them but Geralt doesn’t turn around. “Fuck, you’re fast! Shit. I’m sorry, Geralt.”

Without looking his way, Geralt complains, so quietly that Jaskier nearly misses it, “Yennefer is going to kill me.”

“I would have fucked off,” Jaskier says quickly, hurrying down the rest of the steps until he gets to the bottom. Geralt still doesn’t look at him so Jaskier slides none-too-gracefully into his space, demanding his attention. He’s hardly red in the face or anything, but he looks embarrassed. Jaskier crumbles. “I’m sorry. I— seriously, I don’t care, I would have fucked off. I should’ve left, I should’ve— You should go back there, she’s beautiful!”

Geralt’s nostrils flare but he doesn’t look away. “Why did you lie,” he demands, flat.

“Well,” Jaskier deflates. “Um. You’re beautiful.”

“Hmm.”

“I really am sorry,” he offers.

Geralt, still watching him closely, says, “You don’t sound sorry.”

“What do you want me to do?” Jaskier throws his hands in the air, breaking away from Geralt’s stare— in the greenhouse, surrounded by bright lights and open, manmade nature, it had been easy to sit under the weight of Geralt’s eyes on him. Down here, at the end of a staircase and the entrance to a dark garage, chest still heaving, it feels too intimate. He puts some distance between them, sighing. “You want me to go back there and explain the whole situation to poor Renfri?”

When Jaskier finally turns around again, Geralt’s gaze hasn’t left him. “I want you to come have dinner with me instead,” he says, slowly but purposefully.

“Oh,” breathes Jaskier. “That’s— well, if you want that.”

“I already made a reservation for two. My name’s on the list.” Geralt is fidgeting with the end of his sleeve at first but when he approaches Jaskier he drops it, striding forward without hesitating. “Table for Geralt and one young brunet friend of Yennefer’s.”

Jaskier chokes on his own surprised laugh. “I don’t actually know Yennefer,” he needlessly explains.

“She’s going to hate you,” says Geralt, half-smirking, and then he adds, “Well, she’ll hate both of us now.”

They get to the restaurant twenty minutes late, Geralt’s hair mussed up and lips a bitten red and Jaskier wearing his backpack and a shit-eating grin. The host sees them and immediately tells them their table has been cancelled, and they end up getting terrible two-dollar slices from a hole-in-the-wall pizza place. They eat on the way back to Geralt’s car and then he drives Jaskier back to campus, kissing him soundly in the door to his apartment until Priscilla comes home and yells at Jaskier to get a room. As they squabble Geralt apologizes, polite and nervous, and kisses Jaskier’s cheek and tells him it was nice to meet him.

Jaskier goes inside and spends the next thirteen hours writing the best poetry he will ever write.

#my writing #geraskier fic #geraskier #flash fic challenge #events

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easily-infatuated23 · 4 years ago

Text

The Parent and the Professor

a/n: i love the idea of reader being a professor! let me know if you want a part two :) letters are in italics

pairing: Draco Malfoy x Professor!Reader

word count: 4k

warning: mentions of war and not feeling worthy

summary: Will a broken friendship be rekindled when Scorpius’s favorite teacher writes a letter to his father?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I have always had a passion for teaching and inspiring young minds. So, it wasn’t surprising that I was ecstatic to start my fourth year teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts at my alma mater, Hogwarts. When I first started working there, I was haunted by the memories of the war. Everywhere I looked I could remember a different face of a friend or teacher laying dead. Seeing the students happy faces made the memories easier to bear. Just the knowledge that they could safely live out their childhoods in such a magical and special place softened the lingering pain.

One of my favorite parts of teaching at Hogwarts was teaching the children of the people I had grown up with. For some, I knew so much about their parents from those early silly childhood days that simply seeing their faces made me laugh and reminisce. Of all the children of friends I had taught thus far, the most gifted was Scorpius Malfoy. It wasn’t such a shock that he was so clever, his father had been a very gifted student when he applied himself. I had been apprehensive when I first read Scoripus’s name on the attendance sheet. His father Draco and I had actually been very close friends for the first 6 years of schooling. We were both in Slytherin and he was one of the few people who didn’t tease or berate me for not being a typical Slytherin. Yes he would get annoyed when I stood up for Hermione when he called her a ‘mudblood’ or when I would challenge his pure-blood views but he always was kind to me.

That all changed in the beginning of our sixth year. He started pushing everyone away and yelling at me almost any time he saw me. I tried to continue to be kind to him but my attempts were swatted away like flies. Once the war began, I understood why he had become distant. He was given an impossible task with no choice as to whether or not to complete it. The worst moment came when he walked to the side of the Death Eaters and The Dark Lord. I was one of the few people that knew he did this for the sake of his parents and not for the Dark Lord. He redeemed this action when Harry Potter was revealed to be alive. He threw him his wand and ran back to the side of good. We locked eyes for a moment before he ran through the castle to safety. I haven’t seen or spoken to him since. He did make a sort of “apology and amends” tour going to almost every individual in the Wizarding World and showing he was a changed man and that he no longer held his past ideals. The one person he left out on that tour was me.

I never understood why. I figured he either thought our friendship was beyond fixing or maybe because he knew I would forgive him and understand. More likely, I guessed he couldn’t stand to face me. But none of that mattered now. It was all just a slight pain in my heart whenever I saw Scorpius. As the school year began, Scorpius Malfoy excelled in my class. He was always the first to raise his hand to ask or answer a question, always the most engaged and eager to learn. One day after class I noticed he was lingering by the door. “Can I help you Mr. Malfoy?” I asked. He nodded and approached my desk. “I was wondering if you could assign me as Athena’s tutor. I know she asked you for one and I want to volunteer”. He looked down at his shoes, trying to hide a blush I figured stemmed from a small crush on the student called Athena. “I was going to assign it to you any way but because you asked I will also add ten points to Slytherin for taking the initiative”. He looked up and smiled. “Thank you Professor!”. He ran out of the room so giddy, calling to his best friend Albus to tell him the news. “What a sweet kid” I thought. Later that night I took a break from grading tests and thought about my old friend Draco Malfoy. Perhaps I should write him. But just to tell him what a gifted student his son was. His wife had passed away four years ago and I figured it must be lonely being all alone in the large estate he occupied known as Malfoy Manor. Maybe this would re-open a line of communication between the two of us. It had been a long time since I had seen him and frankly, I missed him. He probably didn’t think of me though. Sighing, I picked up my quill and penned a formal letter to my former friend.

Dear Mr. Malfoy,

-I couldn’t bring myself to write Draco-

I hope this letter finds you in good health. I wanted to inform you that your son has done exceedingly well in my Defense Against the Dark Arts class and has quickly become my prized pupil. He has even volunteered to take on extra tutoring responsibilities. He is a sweet young man and it is a privilege to have him in my class.

Sincerely, Professor Y/L/N

I examined the letter for a long time, constantly frowning at it and wondering if I should just ball it up and forget about it. At last I found the nerve to seal the letter and before I could stop myself Harvey, my owl, was flying away from my cottage. “Too late now” I murmured. My letter went unanswered for nearly two weeks. I spent the entire first week feeling anxious and most of the second week resigned to the idea that Draco had truly decided I was unworthy of a response. After all, it had been many years. On the Friday of the second week, I stayed up late grading some last minute essay submissions when I heard a tapping at my window. I turned to find an unfamiliar owl outside. I opened the window and took the letter. After a sufficient amount of pats and snacks were given to the owl, I settled in to see if the letter was what I had been waiting for. It was the first thing I saw, the green snake seal on the back confirmed it. Draco had responded to my letter. I flipped it over to see my name scrawled on the front in handwriting I used to be more familiar with. I stared at the letter for a long time before finally opening it. I gently removed the seal and unfolded the letter, my heart pounding so hard I thought it would leave my chest.

Dear Professor Y/L/N,

I appreciate your kind words about my son. He has spoken fondly of you and of your class, he says it is his favorite. Congratulations on being the longest serving Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher in twenty years. It is quite a feat. I hope you are well.

Sincerely, Draco Malfoy

My heart skipped a beat. He matched my formality but he still slipped in something to make me blush. I sighed. I hadn’t been expecting some long rambling dramatic letter explaining why he never came back to me, despite my efforts, but a small clue or hint would have been something. I thought writing the letter might give me more closure but I was horribly mistaken. Now, all I wanted to do was write him back and find some way to see him. I had done my best after the war but he pushed me away more. That night was a sleepless night for me. I felt like a sixteen year old again, debating if I should write him back or not. If I did decide to write him back, how long should I wait? Ultimately, I decided it was best to leave it there.

Two months later, Quidditch season was in full swing as Slytherin was playing Hufflepuff in a match leading up to the finals. I was never one thrilled by the idea of Quidditch, but Scorpius had begged me to come so I attended. He had followed in his father’s foot steps and was the Seeker for the Slytherin team. When I got to the parent and faculty section I was stunned to see none other than Draco Malfoy. I quickly looked away and tried to pretend I hadn’t seen him. I jogged up the bleacher stairs and sat next to the Divinations teacher. For most of the game I pretended to be watching the match but in reality, I kept glancing at Draco’s platinum blonde hair, half hoping he would turn and see me and half hoping he would leave without knowing I was there. Eventually, I was able to relax and enjoy the game. Scorpius lead the team to a win and the Slytherin student section went wild. I could have sworn I saw Athena blow him a kiss. I guess those tutoring sessions had helped him as much as they had helped her grades! I couldn’t help but look down and chuckle to myself, this little bit of childhood romance warmed my heart. When I looked back up my gaze was meant by the piercing blue eyes of Draco Malfoy. I couldn’t tell if the look on his face was that of shock or fear but before I could give a slight smile he looked away. Now this truly felt like we were sixteen again.

Everyone started to rise and leave the section talking and making merry. I rose from my seat and before I could begin to descend, Draco rose suddenly and turned to me, walking in my direction. I froze. “Hello Professor Y/L/N” he said, not meeting my gaze for long. “Mr. Malfoy” was all I could manage to croak. “I was so pleased to receive your letter about Scorpius, he doesn’t always tell me what’s going on when he’s here”. “Yes,” I smiled “he is a wonderful student. You must be very proud of him”. Draco gave a small but sincere smile. “I must admit, I didn’t expect to see you here” I said. “I was able to get a few weeks off from work so I decided to come down and watch the match. It has been nice to see the place so..” he paused. “Free” I finished for him. He smiled and met my gaze again. “Yes thats exactly what I was thinking.” There was a few moments of silence. It wasn’t as awkward or terrifying as I had anticipated. “I should go find my son” he said finally. “Yes of course it was good to see you again”. I meant this whole heartedly. “Perhaps I can see you again soon and we can talk while there is less noise” he said. A little surprised but happy I replied yes. Before turning to leave he squeezed my hand and gave me his signature smirk before turning and descending down the bleachers. Was my friendship with Draco Malfoy finally going to be rekindled? I hoped so. Before turning and walking out of sight he called back to me, “I’ll write you”. I nodded. I would never have expected this to happen and I had no idea what to expect next.

Another week went by before I heard from him. His owl found me in the middle of a lesson, I opened the window and thanked the owl. I tucked the letter into my robe pocket. As I shifted my attention back to the class I saw Scorpius’s face twist with confusion then look at Albus Potter. Shit. He clearly recognized the owl. I decided I would talk to him after class. Once the lesson was over I called Scorpius to my desk. “I saw you looked confused when your father’s owl delivered me a letter so I thought I owed you an explanation”. He said nothing but simply looked at the floor and shifted uncomfortably. “Your father and I actually used to be very close friends in the early years at Hogwarts,” I began. He looked up at me puzzled. It was clear his father had never mentioned that detail to him. “I wrote to your father telling him what an exceptional student you were and then we ran into each other at the last Quidditch match, congratulations by the way, and we discussed possibly meeting to catch up. I didn’t want you to simply see the owl and then have your brain spin in circles thinking of possible reasons for the letter”. He nodded and finally spoke. “Yeah I was really confused at first. I must admit I am a bit more confused now though. He has never spoken about you before. When I told him you were my favorite professor he seemed to not know who you were”. Ouch. “Well we were going through a hard time back then, I don’t blame him for forgetting” I managed, trying to keep my composure. “You may go” I finished. He jogged out of the room glancing back one more time before finally leaving. Maybe he thought I died. Rationalizing wasn’t helping. I climbed the small staircase in my classroom and entered my office, locking the door behind me. I opened the letter and read its contents.

Dear Professor Y/L/N,

It was pleasant running into you at the Quidditch match last week. If you are able, perhaps you would be kind enough to meet at Malfoy Manor for lunch on Saturday at 11:30. I fear we have much to discuss and would prefer to do so in private.

Sincerely, Draco Malfoy

Saturday, at the Manor. It would be a difficult place to be. Although I was a Slytherin, I had befriended Harry Potter and the rest of his trouble-making trio. I enjoyed their company. It provided a break from the constant berating from the rest of my house. However, due to this friendship I had been taken and held hostage along with Luna Lovegood in Malfoy Manor for a few weeks before the final battle. I had been hit with every curse short of killing me. Draco had been forced to witness but did nothing to help me. I understood why he couldn’t but just once it would have been nice to see him stand up for me. But, alas, I figured I wasn’t worthy of any help. Returning to the Manor was something I never thought I would do but his letter let on to a promise of answers to questions I had been harboring for so long now.

Dear Mr. Malfoy,

I accept.

Sincerely, Professor Y/L/N

Short and sweet. Now came the long wait for Saturday. Once the day arrived I was more nervous than I had previously anticipated. I pulled on a pair of black slacks and a fitted white long sleeve shirt. Over the top I chose to wear my brown striped blazer. I put on my favorite silver earrings and necklace with an ’S’ charm. When we had been young, Draco gave me a silver ring for my birthday that was shaped like a snake. I had worn it everyday since then without thought. When I went to reach for it today, I paused. Wearing it had become part of my daily routine but he didn’t know that. Would he think I wore it just for him? I shook the thought out of my head and wore it anyway. If I didn’t wear it I was worried I wouldn’t feel complete which would make me more nervous than I already was. I pulled my light brown hair into a half-up-half-down look and applied some light mascara. I was never one to wear makeup but I hadn’t slept much on Friday night so adding some definition to my face and leading the attention to my green eyes became a necessity to attract attention away from my dark circles.

At 11:29 I gathered all the courage I could and apparated to Malfoy Manor. I knocked timidly on the front door. Even the frigid fall wind couldn’t cool my skin as I blushed in anticipation of the meeting. When he opened the door I was overwhelmed by the scent of apples and cologne that had once held a permanent residence in my nose. “Professor, please come in” he said cordially. I nodded and entered into the place that had housed my nightmares for so long. But somehow it was different. The decor wasn’t as sterile as it once was. It actually looked more lived in and closer to a home than a prison. He noticed my slight surprise. “We’ve redone the place a bit so it probably looks much different compared to……last time” he mumbled. I put on my bravest smile and turned to him. “Yes it is quite lovely Mr. Malfoy”. “Please, you can call me Draco. ‘Mr. Malfoy’ is awfully formal don’t you think?”. I looked at him, a slight smirk waved across his face. “Alright, as long as you call me Y/N” I replied. He led me to the kitchen where a small round table was set and had sandwiches on the plates. “I figured since it was just the two of us there was no need to use the dinning room. Can I take your jacket?” he asked. I nodded and unbuttoned my blazer, handing it to him. As he took it from me, I saw him glance at my right hand and saw the serpent ring coiled around my middle finger. He quickly took the blazer from me and said nothing.

As we sat down to eat there was a few minutes of uncomfortable silence before I finally broke and turned to him. “I am sorry but I have a lot of questions and I won’t leave without answers”. He sighed. Nodding, he turned toward me and I began. “Why didn’t you find me after the war? I wrote to you and tried to reach out but you ignored me. When I told Scorpius we had been old friends he looked at me as if I was lying. Why? Did you completely erase me from your life? If thats the case its your decision but I would like to know why.” I paused, waiting for him to speak. “After the war, I was so ashamed that I never stood up for you and how badly I had hurt you when I shut you out, I didn’t feel worthy of your forgiveness. I ignored your letters because I thought you would be better off not ever having to be reminded of the pain that I caused you.” He couldn’t meet my eyes. I exhaled sharply and buried my face in my hands before I finally replied. “Then I guess you never knew me at all”. He looked up, a stunned expression on his face. “Of all the people in the world you should’ve known that I would be the one to forgive you the most. I understood why you did what you did and why you couldn’t help me. You as much as the rest of us were fighting for the lives of us and our families. Had it really been your choice, I don’t think you would have complied.” He stood up and walked away from the table. “I know” he finally said. “I realized all of that a few years ago but at that point I thought it was too late.” He leaned on the kitchen counter with his back to me. His head was dropped and his shoulders were shaking softly. “Its one of my biggest regrets.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“Well, we’re here now. If you have anything else you want to say, nows the time.” He turned back to me. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I never helped you, I’m sorry I didn’t find you after the fighting was over, I’m sorry I didn’t defend you better at school, I’m sorry for all of it.” His words sounded desperate but genuine. It was like he couldn’t find the breath to properly support his list of apologies. “Stop” I said suddenly. I walked in front of him and grabbed his shoulders, lowering my head until he was forced to meet my gaze. “I forgive you. Completely and totally. I just want my friend back.” He chuckled through a cry before pulling me into a tight hug. His hands were around my waist and mine around his neck. I moved my right hand to the back of his neck and stroked his hair, like I had when we were kids whenever he was upset. He chuckled again softly and held me tighter. “Ok as nice as this is I think you are gonna squeeze all the life out of me!” I joked. “Oh I’m sorry” he breathed as he let me go and pushed me away slightly.

After this first meeting, I saw him almost every weekend. We would meet and reminisce and catch up on our lives. At our third meeting he asked me about the ring. “I see you still wear the ring I gave you. I thought you would have gotten rid of it”. He held my right hand and looked at the ring. “Draco, truthfully, I was worn this ring every single day of my life since you gave it to me. It’s a part of me”. This seemed to please him as his cheeks flushed a light pink. By our sixth meeting me we were sharing a bottle of wine after dinner when he decided to play an old record of songs played at the Yule Ball. “Oh my goodness I can’t believe you actually have this!” I laughed as he purposefully did his worst dance moves. “This was one of my favorite nights at school, how could I not!” Before I knew it, he scooped me up and we were dancing the awful and silly choreographed dance we all had to learn. He spun me around in his living room as the music played. Our shadows were dancing on the walls from the light of the fire. “I don’t think I have laughed this hard in years!” I remarked. “Me too” he replied with a chuckle. Just then all of the sudden the laughter stopped and I realized this was the closest I had been to him since we were in school. This only lasted a few moments before Scorpius appeared at the door. We quickly broke apart and Draco took a step froward. “Yes son?”. “Uh, I just wanted to let you know I was going to Albus’s house to spend the night..” he stared at me with a look of confusion on his face. “Oh yes thats fine, have fun and be safe”. He quickly left the room and hurried out the front door before either of us could offer an explanation. “Oh gosh that was so embarrassing” I said, sitting on the couch and hiding my face in my hands. “He probably thinks that we kissed or were about to” I said, the sound muffled through my hands. Draco sat down next to me. “Weren’t we?” he asked timidly. I sat up and looked at him. “I don’t know, my mind kinda went blank” I chuckled. “Mine too” he smiled. “Can I kiss you?” he asked finally. I smiled and nodded. He smiled back and reached his hand out until he touched my face. He brushed his thumb over my cheek as it made its way to brush over my lips. With his other fingers positioned under my chin, he gently pulled my face closer to his, tilting it slightly upwards and to the right. He kissed me gently moving his hand back to my cheek. I hadn’t expected him to be so gentle but I was so happy I sunk into it easily. Scorpius would get an explanation later, right now, I just wanted to live in the moment I never realized I wanted.

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x professor!reader #draco malfoy x y/n #harry potter #harry potter au #hogwarts #slytherin #malfoy manor #draco malfoy au #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy fanfiction #scorpius malfoy

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damonsvftie · 4 years ago

Text

𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝

MASTERLIST☁️

Summary: When Draco has completely pushed himself away from you, things take a dark turn especially when your best friend, Harry Potter casts a sectumsempra spell on him.

Warning: angst and fluff☁️

Timeline: set during the half blood prince

I sat in my bed reading my favourite book while the moon shone brightly and rain poured down heavily. It had been raining all day however i didn’t mind. I loved everything about the rain and considered it as relaxing while I would open up a book and get lost into my own imagination.

It was 10.30pm, when I had read nearly half of the book that was in my hands but I couldn’t seem to finish it. My mind was pondering somewhere else, preventing me from completely finishing the book. What seemed to bother me was Draco.

He had promised that he would write to me during the summer break whenever he could but he never wrote to me once. I sent him a few letters then and there but I still didn’t earn a reply back. I was mainly worried about him. I wouldn’t stop sending him letters until I made sure he was completely fine but then I thought to myself, ‘what if he doesn’t want to write to me? What if he thinks I’m being clingy?’ So I eventually stopped from doing so.

There wasn’t much time left anyways. One more week and we would be going back to Hogwarts for our 6th year and how I yearned to see Draco badly than ever.

—

One week had gone by and there I was making my way to platform 9 and 3/4. A bunch of 1st years were bidding their goodbyes to their parents while the others boarded the train.

When I got inside my compartment, i was greeted by the golden trio. “Oh Merlin y/n, you haven’t been writing to us all winter,” groaned Hermione while she gave me a warm hug while Ron popped my suitcase onto the upper tier. I turned to face Harry, embracing him while he cradled me ever so slightly.

“You said you would write to all of us, what happened to that,” questioned Ron making his way towards me for a warm, welcoming hug. I lowered my gaze in disappointment and shame, looking at the floor.

“It’s Malfoy isn’t it?” Spat Harry furiously while he clenched his fists tight. My hand travelled to his bicep lightly gripping on it.

“Yes..but no,” I sighed, deeply exhaling while both Hermione and Ron cocked their heads in confusion.”He hasn’t been writing to me all summer...and I’m afraid that something’s wrong with him,” I blurted out quickly while I tried to not meet Harry’s gaze as my eyes filled with tears blurring my vision.

“I just knew he would do something like that, I warned you-,” Harry started venting before I cut him off.

“Harry please.. that’s not important right now. What’s important is Draco,” I muttered in defense of my boyfriend.

—

The whole train ride was awkward and the tension could have most definitely been cut with a knife. No one dared to say a word until we reached Hogwarts. Harry had glanced at me a couple of times and somewhere deep down I knew he only wanted what was best for me, and I couldn’t have appreciated it anymore but anyone who would say a word against Draco would have to fight me first.

—

In honour of all the students, a feast was held in the great hall. We all took our positions as we sat huddled together with our other fellow house members. I sat besides Harry while Ron and Hermione took their places opposite us. Purposely, I took my seat where I sat just so I could get to see Draco Malfoy.

While Dumbledore started his welcome back speech, I glanced at the platinum haired boy from across the hall as a look of depression smeared across his face. He looked different. His skin had turned paler than it already was and the spark that was usually in his eyes had faded away. I was becoming really concerned about Draco and seeing him look so devastated made my heart shatter into millions of tiny pieces.

When the feast had started, I had completely lost my appetite. Seeing my boyfriend look absolutely weak and mundane made me non- famished. My heart ached for him. I just wanted to be there for him assuring him that whatever he was going through I would be there for him no matter what. But what if I wasn’t? What if whatever that was causing his depression made me want to stay away from him? But I wouldn’t let that happen. No matter what.

—

A week had already flew by in a instant blur. I tried everything I could to get Draco to start opening up to me but nothing worked. He was constantly ignoring me as if I didn’t exist and as the days went by his depression seemed to get worser and since he kept neglecting me I started to feel heavily inferior.

—

It was way past curfew when I sat near my desk writing a letter addressed to Draco. My hands started trembling as I used my quill to write. Tears were spilling down my cheeks onto the piece of paper, staining it and causing the splodges of tears to become soggy and transparent.

To my beloved Draco,

I know that you don’t want anything to do with me right now but I just need you to know that I love and care about you and will continue to do so until the day I die. Whatever it is your going through I’ll always be with you no matter the circumstances but please don’t distance yourself away from me like this.

Yours, y/l/n

Sealing the envelope, I handed my ptilopsis owl, named Elvis, the letter that was in my hands a second ago. He took the object between its beak and flew out of the open glass stained windows, soaring high into the blanket of darkness, on its way to deliver the message to Malfoy.

—

The next day, I hoped that I had gotten a response from Draco however I was wrong. I never got a reply back. I wanted to help him overcome whatever it was but if he wasn’t going to cooperate with me then I couldn’t do anything to comfort him during this dark time.

—

Weeks started to pass by and I was becoming closer to Harry. It was no secret that me and Draco weren’t together. Or that’s what others thought as they never saw the two of us together again. And let’s say that’s what I also thought.

Harry and me became more than best friends. It was more like a situationship since we weren’t dating but we were closer than ever. It wasn’t until one evening Hermione word-vomited Harry’s secret to me.

—

“If only you knew about Harry,” she mumbled under her breathe when I started teasing her about Ronald.

“What did you say?” I questioned curiously while I pushed my silky hair behind me.

“It’s nothing, besides we should get going,” she replied defensively as she played with the hem of robe.

“No... what did you say about Harry? “ I asked eagerly while I stopped walking, completely facing the brunette girl in front of me. She awkwardly shifted her feet while she smoothed the fabric of her robe trying to avoid any eye contact. I gave her a slight nudge so she could snap out of it.

“He’s in love with you,”. That was it. Those were her words.

The phrase that came out of her mouth made me shudder. He couldn’t love me because I didn’t want him too.

Typically, many Gryffindors thought that I was simply using Harry, trying to make up for the loss of no longer being with Draco but that wasn’t the case. Harry was always there for me, a shoulder to cry on, someone to make me laugh when I was feeling down as ever but he could never replace Draco. No matter how hard I tried to move on from my former lover, nothing seemed to work. Thinking to myself that maybe Harry could fill in the missing gaps, the extra pieces to a lost puzzle, a way for me to escape my completely distorted imagination but I was wrong. No matter how much Harry loved me I assured myself that he would soon get over it, because he needed to. He had to.

—

Sitting in the great hall, I tried to sit as far as I could from Harry but he would scoot up closer towards me. Frequently asking me if I was okay or if I needed anything making sure I was completely fine, but how could I be ‘okay’ if I was stuck between my true love and someone I considered as my best friend. No no, I wasn’t stuck. I was certain about what I wanted. I wanted Draco. But things between the two of us came crumbling down.

Then there was Potter, someone who stuck by me when Draco made me feel inferior but how selfish was it of me too view everything from my perspective. Had I once put myself into Malfoy’s shoes and tried figuring out what demons he was battling with, that had caused him to be in such a state. But the issue was that I did. I did try my hardest to find out what was happening with him. What was going on inside his brain.But nothing helped.

I got up from my seat as the tension between me and Harry rised. I needed to honestly give myself a break from whatever was happening. Before I could leave, someone gripped my wrist gently. Turning myself around, I noticed Harry’s fingers wrapped around my wrist holding me back from leaving. It wasn’t until I noticed my eyes were beginning to tear up. I couldn’t face him. I couldn’t look him in the eye and disappoint him when he immensely cared for me. I wanted to give him the same passion back but my heart belonged to Draco and only him.

Suddenly, he hastily removed his hand from my wrist causing me to turn around, my back now facing him. There stood Draco. He shifted on his feet before he went striding out of the hall.

Harry started chasing after him and I intended to do so until Hermione pulled me back down onto the seat next to her.

“Y/n-“ was all she murmured before I wriggled out of her grasp running as quick as I could, heading out of the massive, substantial doors.

Luckily, I managed to hear the echoes of someone running down the hall way into the boys bathroom. The more swiftly I ran, the louder the clattering of the footsteps became audible.

I barged into the bathroom while I let out a blood curdling scream. Running to Draco who laid lifelessly groaning in pain in a puddle of murky blood infused water, i kneeled beside him resting his head onto my lap as I moved his platinum blonde hair out of his gashed face.

He was heavily injured as he had deep cuts carved all over his body. He whimpered in pain, while tears spilled out from the corner of his half shut eyes.

A piercing sensation depleted through my body, while my tears came streaming down my face, tasting the saltiness of my tear drops that lingered onto my quivering lips.

“Draco-“ I whispered while I swallowed the thick lump at the back of my throat while my face scrunched up in sorrow.

Standing from across the bathroom was Harry. His wand gripped tightly in his hand as I looked over my shoulder not fully turning. From the corner of my eye, I could still see the expression of guilt smeared across his face before he left in silence.

“SOMEBODY HELP!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, my shrieking voice echoing. My trembling fingers slowly glided across Draco’s cheek, wiping all of his tears away as he tried his best to stay awake, fluttering his wet eyelashes every now and then. My face hovered over his as he stared at me through his blurry vision trying to fight back his tears.

“Go get ... snape,” he said trying to muster all the courage he could to try and get up.“I can’t leave you here like that!” I sobbed through gritted teeth while my face flustered from all the heat. “Y/n... I’m sorry- I really am,” he apologised while the end of his lips curved into a frown and he desperately tried to hold back his tears.

Feeling a pang of pain in my chest from the sincerity of his words, I started sulking harder than before while he bought his hand up to my face wiping my tears. “Please don’t cry,” he mumbled while he caught his bottom lip between his teeth. Seeing the pain that he was going through, i wiped my face with the sleeves of my robe, smudging my mascara even more. I was a complete train wreck at this point as I squeezed his hand.

“Y/n... do you know- how much I love you?” The end of his sentence finishing of like a diminuendo. I cradled him slightly, letting out a small giggle while I plastered a small smile across my face.

It was the first time Draco had ever confessed his love for me and I couldn’t have been more elated. My smile then turned into a fine line as I pursed my lips and knitted my brows. “You don’t have to say... it back,” he murmured as his dark blue eyes softened.

“I love you too... and I really mean it. Draco your my everything,” I said confidently, exhaling deeply as I got those three words of my chest. Our eyes met and I found myself dipping low as my lips met his. I kissed him passionately as if it was the last time I’d ever kiss him again. I kissed him like there was no tomorrow.It felt like a whole moment of bliss until he started whincing in pain. I pulled back as I noticed his hands holding onto his side. Removing his head from my lap I scrambled to my feet heading for the door. “I’ll be back...just stay put!” I yelled back to him as I went to go and find Snape.

—

“Someone casted a sectumsempra spell on Mr. Malfoy, Miss . Y/l/n do you know who has done this to him?” He asked in his lifeless tone but more furious than ever.“It was Potter... he chased me here and casted the spell on me. He’s trying to kill me!,” interrupted Draco once Severus had healed him completely. “I’ll be dealing with him,” bellowed Snape as he stormed out of the bathroom, the back of his robe flaring.

“Are you okay Draco?” I questioned as I looked up to him. “Better than before,” he responded before taking his hand into mine.“Draco we need to talk,” the tone of my voice more mature than ever. He simply nodded while we walked to the slytherin common room.

Since no one was there, we sat in front of the warm, blazing fire holding one another as a blanket draped the two of us. One of his hands made its way into my hair, gently stroking it as my head leaned against his chest. “Why were you ignoring me all this time?” I interrogated as I pulled away from him tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

The same depressing look painted across his face. His eyes had turned a dark grey as he glanced at me before he started playing with the silver ring that was on his finger. I placed my hand on his arm giving him a reassuring look.

He started to roll up one of his sleeves as if something was plastered across the surface of his skin.

His wrist was branded with the signature dark mark and a tear drop glided down his pale face. My hand covered my mouth as I examined the familiar piece of dark art that was embedded into his arm.

“Your- your a death eater,” I gasped gently. He avoided meeting my gaze as I gawped in awe. “This ... this was the reason why I kept neglecting you. I didn’t want to drag you into any of this mess .. I-,” cutting him off I lifted his chin glaring into his emotion filled eyes. “Draco.. you know that I’ll always be there for you no matter what right?” I questioned as my thumb drew tiny circles on his cheek.

He hummed before I pulled him in for a kiss wrapping my arms around his neck. His lips were slightly chapped but I didn’t mind. A feeling of euphoria ran through my body like adrenaline while his breathing became more frantic and fast.

Pulling away panting, I locked his hand into mine as I sat in front of him. “I’ll always be here for you no matter what,” I panted while staring into his cold eyes as he slowly nodded.

A teardrop slipped down his cheek as I brushed it with my finger

“We can figure this out,” I reassured him.

“A mark doesn’t define who you are,”

422 notes · View notes

raleighcarrera · 4 years ago

Text

falling

platinum | raleigh carrera x mc (cadence dorian)

a little while ago i posted about the idea of a soulmate au where the first words raleigh & cadence say to each other are tattooed on them their whole lives, and this... is that. (for @platinumweekend ❤️)

tags: @choicesarehard ; @empressazura; @emomoustache ; @natesewell ; @zigtheeortega ; @pixeljazzy ; @brycemaloliver ; @grigori-girl ; @dulceghernandez ; @bitchloveskcbaseball ; @withbeautyandrage

~10.5k words | T

the words appear in looping script on his thirteenth birthday, right on time. they curve along the inside of his bicep, innocently punctuated. what’s your name?

“you got lucky,” one of his older cousins tells him, later, when everyone in his family comes by for cake and to ooh and aah over his new tattoo, “you’ll be able to hide that with a shirt or a jacket easily.”

but raleigh sleeps shirtless every night for the next two years, even when it’s cold, so that the words are the last thing he sees with his head pillowed on his arm before he falls asleep, dreaming of the nameless, faceless person who will one day say them, wondering what their voice might sound like when they do.

ii.

she has a more difficult go of it.

being a thirteen year old girl would be miserable enough without the added pressure of the words that practically feel broadcast across her forehead, most of the time. everyone at school teases her constantly and ruthlessly: say something funny, cadence. go on. tell us a joke!

so it’s difficult not to resent the two words scrawled lazily across her collarbone and the person attached to them, especially in the mornings before school when she’s angrily rearranging her neckline and jewelry in the mirror while the bus idles outside.

very funny. she isn’t, really. she’s plenty of things -- determined and passionate and sensitive, definitely, but... no one’s ever found her particularly funny, before.

and no one seems to understand just how much the expectation of having to be funny, one day, is weighing on her, not even her parents, when she finally works up the courage to squeak out, “but how am i supposed to know what i should say?”

her mom laughs indulgently, like she’s already said something funny. her stomach sinks further.

“oh, sweetheart,” she tells her, “don’t worry, it won’t matter. you just will.”

iii.

people ask him about it. a lot.

it gets difficult to keep it a secret as things change around him, but raleigh’s careful to avoid slip-ups and paparazzi photos and he doesn’t say a word about it in interviews, even when he’s asked directly. he’s never seen without short sleeves on, at the very least, and he doesn’t even tell blair and cameron about it.

he sort of wishes he had, though, because as his life turns upside down and he adapts to a new country with a new set of rules and an industry that makes his head spin most of the time it starts to feel more and more confusing, those three words -- what’s your name?

everywhere he goes, thousands of girls blocking the street scream it at him. so how is it possible that whoever’s waiting to meet him doesn’t already know it?

and what does that mean for how the rest of his life is going to turn out?

what if all of this -- the fame and the money and the notoriety -- is fleeting, and he’s only a few short years from being completely washed up and irrelevant? what if the day he’s meant to meet his person is so far away that he’ll be completely out of the spotlight, by then, with sunset skatepark playing reunion tours and him having spent most of his life alone?

it’s a lot of pressure, for someone who’s already working their way through such a serious adjustment, and most of the time it’s dizzying, thinking about the fact that there’s someone out there who’s supposed to be perfect for him, when everyone he meets seems determined to forget every word they know other than yes, so they can suck up to him as much as possible.

his teenage years fly by in a whirlwind of mistakes and regrets. there’s things he would’ve never dreamed would come his way, like world tours and more money than he can count and so many girls who know everything about him before they even sit down to dinner, but there’s more than that, too.

there’s all the ways the industry weakens his trust until it’s gone, all the people who try to use him for what he can do for them, all the times he stumbles until he finally learns to distance himself by cultivating a persona, by leaning into all the expectations of raleigh carrera and creating something so outlandish it doesn’t hurt as much when disaster follows him around because it’s supposed to.

he watches everything that surrounds him turn fake and plastic and puts his energy only into his music, coasting on the rest. the days are less exciting than when he first joined the band at fifteen; he’s a solo artist, now, and most of the time, he’s just trying to get through.

but chaos continues to follow him and eventually his notoriety is inescapable. his first solo album is self-titled and he somehow manages to get a trademark on the word raleigh, as if the name is now more his than anything that ever belonged to the state of north carolina, and part of him sort of expects the words stamped on his arm to change, once he hits one-hundred million followers on his social channels.

they never do, though, and when he’s alone, and the veneer he’s built up for everyone else fades away, he can’t help but to be fascinated by this person who just wants an answer to the question no one else would ever dare ask him.

iv.

college isn’t exactly the fresh start she was hoping it’d be.

she was a loser in high school and things don’t get much better for her even now that she’s with ‘her people’ at a performing arts university she can barely afford, even with two part-time jobs.

shane is across the country at a proper state school with parties and a social life and lots of friends who aren’t her, and she’s failing her improv class, proving that she isn’t actually very funny at all.

boys continue to not notice her and patrons in bars continue to turn away from her one-woman performance, her old acoustic guitar the only constant in a life that feels utterly, unbelievably pointless, most of the time.

it’s like she’s drifting through the days, putting her time in at college in the hopes that it’ll fortify her for what’s next -- her big break, the discovery that’ll get her out of that shitty small town she’s been trying to escape her entire life. she writes hundreds of songs about how lost she feels and hates every single one, dreaming of a time when things might be different and she doesn’t have to second-guess every single one of her decisions.

she doesn’t have much of a love life and tries not to think about that, either.

the person on the other side of those two words stuck on her collarbone is probably looking for someone self-confident, who knows who they are and is comfortable with that. they’re probably expecting to meet someone who has their life together, who, at the very least, has a plan.

they’re probably not expecting a talentless nobody screwup like her, someone who tries as hard as she can yet never seems to make anything work.

things don’t turn around after graduation, either. sure, she manages to find an apartment in a building that’s nice enough and uses the last of her savings on the deposit and trying to furnish it, but it’s only a few weeks of trying and failing to secure a regular paying gig performing before she’s back at smoothie star again, begging for her old job back.

and there’s nothing that makes her feel more like a failure than working the same shifts she had in high school.

as she hums along to the radio on a random tuesday afternoon when the store is dead and there’s nothing to blend, she wonders what mr.-or-mrs. very funny would think if they walked in and saw her here -- twenty-three years old and flat broke, with a dead-end job and a one-bedroom apartment all she has to show for her very expensive and very useless bachelor’s degree.

that, and a notebook full of half-finished songs about relationships she could only ever dream about and an escape from the miserable small town she lives in that feels farther away with every day that passes.

she can’t imagine they’d be very impressed.

raleigh’s life gets monotonous very quickly. the music takes a backseat to the scandals and for a while there’s a predictable pattern of cause trouble, clean up image, rinse and repeat.

there are girls in between the cycles to help him pass the time. some he likes well enough and some he despises, but for the most part his management gives their recommendations and he agrees and makes awkward conversation for an hour or two over brunch until it’s time to go trash something again.

things get particularly bad after one minor cruise ship hijacking incident.

but in his defense, no one ever told him that breaking into the harbor and joy riding was a first-degree felony, worsened by the fact that he’d just so happened to crash the boat into the pier while he was trying to dock it.

at least he’d been sober.

though a monumental fuck up like this felt sort of inevitable; everyone who knew him probably figured it was only a matter of time before he went too far. how could he not when he was always chasing the next high?

still, the image rehab tour that follows is far from what he’d call enjoyable. he has to cut off all his hair and play nice at industry parties and waste time standing around being seen at charity events he winds up just cutting checks for instead of helping out at.

on top of the miserable community service comes the pr bullshit his team so loves -- dozens of tv appearances back-to-back where he’s herded around all day like cattle, in and out of green rooms with crappy coffee and bad catering.

he has no idea that showing up to be a judge on one in a million is going to change his life. hungover and running late, he barely even makes it to the taping of the semi-finals, slinking inside the concert hall in middle-of-nowhere, usa with a headache and some choice words for whoever thought this was the best way to clean up his image.

fortunately, raleigh manages to make his way inside virtually unnoticed. his phone is buzzing angrily in his pocket -- undoubtedly his manager trying to encourage him to hair and makeup or some other absurdity -- but he ignores it in favor of ducking back behind the line near the auditorium doors, only barely catching the last few words of some catty confrontation between two contestants as he goes.

as one of the girls stomps away, he sees the other’s shoulders slump from behind. “guess i’m not making any friends,” she mutters.

it’s clearly said to no one -- not even to herself, really -- yet for some reason, he can’t stop himself from responding. “where i come from, that’s a good thing.”

the girl’s shoulders straighten, but she still doesn’t turn around. “i’m not trying to succeed at the cost of others.”

raleigh smirks, leaning back against the wall beside his guitar case. “you do realize you’re at a competition show, right?”

“of course, but...” her hair ruffles with what sounds like a huff. she’s still not facing him, staring off at where the other girl she’d been talking to had run away. “that doesn’t mean i’m not rooting for everyone here to share their music with the world.”

“what a sweet sentiment,” raleigh drawls sarcastically, almost feeling a little bad for her and her naivety. this poor girl is going to be eaten alive. “it won’t last.”

her body tenses, her shoulders tightening again. he can almost see smoke start to pour from her ears before she spins suddenly on her heel to face him.

whatever sharp retort had been on the tip of her tongue gets swallowed with a blink as soon as their eyes meet. something like electricity crackles in the space between them, strengthening the invisible pull he’d felt when he first stopped behind her. instead, she only asks, “what’s your name?”

vi.

the man in front of her snorts. “very funny.”

a smile tugs at her lips. “very funny, that’s a weird name.” this is unlike her -- the quick comeback, the flirting. usually being face-to-face with a guy as good looking as the one talking to her now made her want to wither away and die, but something about the stranger standing before her sets her instantly at ease. “so, are you gonna tell me, or not?”

now it’s his turn to blink at her. a hand lifts to rub at his jaw. “huh. you really don’t know who i am, do you?”

cadence’s eyes narrow as she assess him. there is something vaguely familiar about that crooked grin, she’s sure of it.

at the very least, it’s an excuse to stare at him, and she does, moving her eyes slowly over the tattoos poking out over his jacket collar, the line of stubble on his sharp jaw, the glint of mischief in his eyes.

her helpless gaping is interrupted by a sudden shrill scream. “oh. my. god! is that raleigh carrera?!”

everything clicks at once. as a wild group of girls corner him, she realizes where she’s seen that smile before -- on just about every tabloid cover known to man, plastered all over convenience stores and the internet with headlines about his latest bender. in fact, she’s pretty sure he was just in the news for something similar -- crashing a yacht or something else ridiculous like that, something that only someone as rich as raleigh carrera could have accomplished.

then she realizes what he’d said to her, as soon as she’d turned to look him in the eyes. very funny.

her heart stops. all she can do is stare wide-eyed at him as he dispels the girls clamoring for a selfie, snapping back to the present when he waves one large hand in front of her face.

“sorry -- what?”

“i said, what’s your name? it only seems fair, now that you know mine, and all.”

“cadence,” she answers numbly, “i’m -- um, i’m used to your hair being longer.”

“cadence,” raleigh repeats, smiling at her, “so you do know who i am.”

“what do the magazines call you again? r&b’s time bomb? puerto rico’s hottest export? you’re kind of notorious.” she blinks at him, then admits, “i’ve heard your songs.”

“seen the tabloid covers too, eh?” the expression on his face suggests he’s almost proud of them.

this is surreal.

“didn’t you crash a yacht or something?” she asks, brain whirring into overdrive as she tries to process what’s happening. he doesn’t seem to have realized it yet, which gives her a moment to gather her thoughts, something that feels impossible when she can’t push the way he’d scoffed very funny out of her mind.

“or something. insurance paid out a couple million in property damage, but...” raleigh trails off, brow suddenly furrowing. he stares at her silently for a beat too long, then slowly turns a dull red. “hey, what’d you say earlier, again?”

cadence wets her dry lips, trying not to panic. stay calm, she silently coaches herself. raleigh carrera is not your long-awaited soulmate and you are not doing this in line to audition for one in a million. “i said -- what’s your name? and then you said...”

oh god, this is happening. her teeth dig into her bottom lip as she fidgets with the neckline of her top, tugging it to the side so raleigh can see the two words on her collarbone.

“very funny,” he mutters, “oh, jesus fucking christ. you can’t be serious.”

“me?” she demands, “you’re the one who --”

“next up,” calls a voice suddenly, cutting sharply through their argument, “contestant #9,276.”

her blood runs cold as she realizes that’s the number she’s wearing pinned to her shirt. she can feel herself start to sweat; how the fuck is she supposed to perform like this? she wants to throw up. why did this have to happen to her now? this was her shot -- her one fucking chance --

“hey, easy.” there’s suddenly two strong hands on either side of her shoulders, and she startles as raleigh stares at her from up close, closer than he was just a moment ago. “relax, okay? you’re gonna be fine. you’ve got this.”

“but --” she starts, then realizes her mind is racing too quickly to even articulate what she wants to say. she settles for shaking her head, eyes wide and panicked. “i can’t just -- oh my god, i’m going to throw up.”

“here,” raleigh directs, “take my guitar. prince gave it to me as a birthday present.”

prince?! she mouths hysterically to herself, as he flips the latch on his case open and pulls out the instrument. “how is this supposed to help me?”

“just trust me,” he says, giving her a gentle nudge towards the auditorium, “now go.”

she does, stumbling forward with the most expensive piece of equipment she’s ever held in her hands in her life alongside her, drawing in a deep breath as she makes her way onto the stage.

she can do this.

everything else will have to come after.

vii.

the thing is -- she’s talented. exceptionally so.

he can tell she’s a little nervous, but maybe that’s just because he’s used to looking out for that sort of thing; he could probably recognize it more easily than the average person would. it probably has nothing to do with who they are, how he notices the nuances in her body language...

her belt is impressive. her voice is stunning, clear and uniquely melodic. his guitar looks spectacular in her hands, and cadence plays it like she’s been practicing on it her entire life.

he tries his best to look nonchalant, feet kicked up onto the seat in front of him, but when she locks eyes with him from the stage he knows he hasn’t succeeded. raleigh’s breath catches, and he stares back at her, transfixed by the way her dainty hands cradle the neck of the guitar and strum the strings, how her lips purse around the long, emotional high note at the end of the song’s chorus.

she’s really very pretty.

he’d probably be lying to himself if he said it doesn’t make him a little bit jealous and uncomfortable, watching how she and avery fawn over each other when she’s finished. he’s probably a much better suited match for her, clean cut and pristine as he is.

he wonders if she’s disappointed that it’s him -- that it’s now, when she’s clearly on the cusp of something great all on her own.

it’s a lot to think about, and so he dips out of the auditorium before she finishes up, rushing outside with his heart pounding. it’s not until he’s halfway through the crumpled pack of cigarettes in his jacket pocket that raleigh starts to relax even an iota, and of course that’s when the stage door he’d left propped swings open wide and cadence’s sneakers hit the asphalt beside his boots.

“uh, you can’t just leave me with this thing,” she says, apropos of nothing, and as he stares at her he realizes she’s talking about his guitar, which she’s holding in one hand like it’s a dead fish. “this costs more than everything in my apartment combined, i’m sure.”

he shakes his head at her, laughing as his fingers flick ash from the cigarette he’s holding. “no way -- you should keep it. you two looked perfect together.”

she hesitates, looking down at the instrument again. he can see in her eyes that she’s torn; it’s obvious she knows the right thing to do is to refuse a generous gift from a stranger, but she wants to keep it, and already his mind is racing as he considers what else he could give her that would excite her like that -- a private flight, a tour of his penthouse, a million dollars.

“are you sure?” cadence asks, without looking at him, and the hesitancy in her voice makes him realize how unsure she really is. she’s the one who’s wondering if he’s disappointed in her.

he licks his suddenly dry lips and drops what’s left of his cigarette to the ground, finding he doesn’t actually need the rest of it, anymore. “positive.”

viii.

they don’t actually get to spend a lot of time together, while she’s filming. she has to focus and it seems like she’s always busy, somehow -- not that she sees raleigh very often in the first place.

the days are spent rehearsing with avery and cramming in as much mentoring as possible, and when she can pull herself away from fiona’s lessons on image to get home at a reasonable hour she collapses into bed pretty much immediately, out like a light from the whirlwind of the day and hardly even aware enough to dream.

but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t think about him. she does, especially on the rare occasions she manages to catch a glimpse of raleigh walking around in the studio, or on one memorable evening she stays late in the auditorium to bang on the piano keys of the beautiful, enviable baby grand on set and startles to find him leaning in the doorway, watching her play.

it’s all a blur and wildly difficult to process; just when she thinks she has a grip on things she remembers the private moments she’s had with raleigh and her emotions tumble to pieces again as she lets the weight of the implications of what’s going on between them crush her completely.

one moment sticks out on her as being particularly worrisome, insofar as how it bodes for the rest of her life.

it feels like something significant from the moment raleigh offers to help her warm up; they’ve hardly had a moment alone together in days and she still has absolutely no idea how she’s supposed to talk to him or what she should say, but for some reason the conversation flows easily and she hardly has to think about the (no doubt incredibly stupid-sounding) words coming out of her mouth.

“you’re going to kill it,” raleigh says finally, once they’ve worked through all the exercises in his arsenal, “you really don’t need my help.”

never in her wildest dreams did she ever imagine someone like him would say something like that to her. “you think?”

“i know it,” he answers confidently, shrugging his shoulders like it’s that simple. “and you should, too.”

there’s a moment of silence where they just stand there staring at each other, ignoring the restless murmuring of the crowd outside that’s waiting for him to slip into his seat at the judge’s table. she’s effortlessly lost in raleigh’s eyes, so fixated on the intensity of his gaze that she doesn’t realize he’s leaning in closer until it’s too late.

“insurance policy,” he mutters, before he kisses her, hands cupping her face gently.

for a split second, she stands frozen, shocked totally still. then, her brain reboots enough to propel her into motion, and cadence gets with the program enough to wind her arms around raleigh’s waist and pull him closer and kiss him back, until her heart’s lurched up into the throat she’d just been warming up, pounding relentlessly.

they make out until the roar of the crowd is deafening -- until it’s impossible not to acknowledge it any longer.

of course raleigh’s a life-ruiningly good kisser. why wouldn’t he be? why should any of this be easy?

it’s only a few simple touches, but raleigh’s mouth leaves her dizzy and lightheaded when she’s supposed to be concentrating on performing, and, independently of the way she’s blinking at him in stupid shock, cadence already knows she’ll never be able to kiss anyone else ever again without thinking about him.

“i have to get out there,” she gasps between desperate presses of their lips against each other, grasping ineffectively at his clothes while his fingers tug her hair out of shape.

“be late,” he suggests, “it always works for me.”

but she’s not him. she’s not like him -- they have nothing in common. they come from different worlds; they’re two completely opposite people.

and yet every minute with raleigh is like coming up for air after being underwater for years, like the knots of guilt and shame and awkward embarrassment she’s carried around for her entire life without understanding why she has them are slowly starting to undo themselves, unlaced by his careful fingers.

they make it out there. eventually.

before she knows it, confetti’s raining down from the ceiling and falling all over her, and she locks eyes with raleigh from across the room to find his lips pulled into a genuinely affectionate grin -- lips that she’d just kissed for the first time a fucking hour ago and, seriously, what is her life now -- his eyes bright and excited.

things just keep getting weirder and weirder, but the way they’re beaming at each other like idiots in a room full of thousands, broadcast on national television, too, makes her think things might be pretty great, too.

ix.

it sort of takes them a long time to getting around to talking about it -- the soulmate thing.

it’s not that he doesn’t try. he does, but she’s got a lot going on, these days: a big move and a new record deal and days filled with songwriting and nights out being seen. he’s still on his image cleanup tour, while she’s at it, so his fake smile stays fixed on his face throughout another boring week of restaurant openings and charity events and talkshow appearances before he finally gets the chance to spend some time with her again.

they text here and there, but nothing pans out until the stars align and they manage to slip out of the back door of a nightclub unnoticed together after a night of dancing too close for the comfort of her publicist while avery and the others cause a commotion at the front entrance to distract the press.

she goes back to his penthouse with him. he can’t remember the last time he brought a girl back to his apartment just to talk, and especially not one who spent the better part of the evening in a sparkly minidress grinding against him.

but here they are.

“so -- how’s the city treating you?” raleigh asks, pouring them both a drink he doesn’t want from the bar cart in the corner of the room for something to do with his hands.

cadence shrugs from where she’s perched on the edge of his sofa, tugging at the hem of her dress. “good, i guess. it’s honestly all kind of overwhelming.”

“yeah,” he nods, passing her one of the glasses in his hands and taking a seat on the ottoman in front of her, close enough to see her face in perfect clarity but still maintaining a distance that he hopes is respectful. “i know what you mean. when i first came here after joining sunset skatepark everything felt so... huge.”

“totally,” cadence answers quickly, nodding in a way that’s almost aggressive. “i mean, there’s so much pressure to deliver an album right away, but i want it to be perfect, and the studio is so different from, like, writing songs in my room at home, and i... i guess i feel kind of homesick, but -- not for my hometown. i hated that place.” there’s hesitancy in her gaze when she asks, “do you know what i mean?”

“yeah,” raleigh says again stupidly, because the truth is -- he knows exactly what she means. cadence has just articulated something he could never quite put into words better than he’d even thought the sentiments to himself. “it’s like... nostalgia for something you don’t even want.”

“exactly,” she breathes emphatically, and then they’re kissing again, and she’s in his lap on the ottoman and he definitely brought her here to talk, for sure, but is it really so terrible if they get a little sidetracked on the way to their destination?

well -- they wind up making out for hours. so, there’s that.

it’s not part of the plan but it’s a hell of a side quest, memorizing the shape and feel of her with his hands while her lips pull every last bit of breath from his lungs, until he’s lightheaded and dizzy in a way no other girl has ever made him, before. it’s to the point where when he finally finds it within himself to push her away, he’s uncharacteristically nervous -- something that’s never happened to him before, not even on the night he lost his virginity.

“i really did ask you over to talk,” he says, voice hoarse.

cadence licks her lips and then beams at him, eyes sparkling. “i know.” she shuffles delicately back onto the couch, lingering in his lap for only a moment before pulling away entirely. he stuffs his hands under his thighs to stop himself from reaching out for her again. “sorry i haven’t been around more.”

“you don’t have to apologize.” raleigh shakes his head. “i should be apologizing to you, i feel like... i should be the one who’s around, to help you with all of this. or at least -- i want to be. i don’t know if i’ll be any good at it.”

he blinks, surprised by his own honesty. he hadn’t meant to say all of that, but the words came up before he was cognizant of them and now they’re out there, and there’s no taking them back -- especially with the way she’s looking at him, all soft and sweet and happy.

“well, you don’t have to be good at it,” cadence murmurs, reaching out for his wrists and tugging his hands free so she can interlock their fingers effortlessly. they fit together like puzzle pieces. “you just have to be you.”

her budding relationship with one of the biggest names in r&b doesn’t have much time to bud at all before it’s rudely plucked from the plant and stepped on.

she finds herself blinking at fiona in confusion as the words take some time to process. “you want me to do what?”

xi.

raleigh balks at his manager, shaking his head emphatically. “no,” he spits out, “absolutely not.”

xii.

“cadence, it’s not a big deal,” fiona tells her, very nearly rolling her eyes. “everyone does it. you go on a few dates, play up the relationship for some photos, social media eats it up -- boom, you’re a star.”

“i don’t know,” she answers hesitantly, mind drifting back to the photographers that have already been following her around, screaming about avery when she ducks into the car with him. things with raleigh are... new, and complicated, and do they really need to add public scrutiny into the mix as well? “i just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“it’s a great idea,” fiona sighs, shaking her head. “all our focus groups agree. the label thinks it’s best, what with your single taking so long to put out.” she opens her mouth to protest -- it’s not like she’s dragging her feet on purpose -- but barely has a second to get a word out before fiona continues, “besides, raleigh does this all the time.”

her teeth bite at her bottom lip uncertainly. “he does?”

“of course. chantal clearwater? she was a pictagram model when they met, and now she’s opening shows at paris fashion week. it’s just business.”

it’s not, though. it could never be just anything, for reasons no one else knows about except the two of them, for reasons she’ll never tell. “well... what did raleigh say about it?”

xiii.

“i said no, frank.” he’s annoyed, now, and his manager knows it, raleigh’s arms folded across his chest and his eyes set into a glare. “n. o. no.”

“and i hear you, but is it really the end of the world? she’s exactly what we’re going for, and i know you already get along --”

“which is exactly why i don’t want to do this. so pick someone else. anyone else.” he’s not going to let his label turn her into one of the girls he has to be seen with for fake photos and mutually beneficial positive press.

for so many years, he’s watched people fake feelings and use each other -- willingly participated in the using himself, too, more times than he can count. he never cared about any of it before.

but being with cadence doesn’t feel fake, and he doesn’t ever want it to. and he knows that if he agrees to this, everything he enjoys about spending time with her will disappear in favor of the ugly, plastic decay that’s eaten away at so many of his personal and professional relationships before. organic, genuine time with her will become strolls near celebrity hotspots, angling just right to help the cameras get the perfect shot. he’ll show up to support her at shows because her publicist called him, and their time together will become some manufactured narrative meant to push their labels’ agenda, until six months down the line they don’t even recognize themselves or what might’ve been if they’d done things a different way.

“look, there isn’t anyone else. her team’s already agreed to it, and i’ve got brunch set up for sunday. all you have to do is play nice for two fucking months, raleigh. is that so impossible for you?”

yes. already he feels a deep-seated desire to go somewhere and break something, to tear through the flower beds in central park with his motorcycle and wink at the cameras when they catch up to him.

instead, he storms out of the office he’s in, and into the sunlight, tugging the hood on his jacket up and melting into the crowd on the corner so he can be as anonymous as possible when he picks up his phone and calls cadence.

“hey raleigh,” she chirps as soon as she picks up, sounding far too cheerful for someone who’s likely had an equally as miserable early morning meeting on a friday. “guessing you heard the news?”

“can’t i just call you to say hi?” he grumbles, ducking his head as he strolls through the intersection with the mob of people crowded along fifth ave, turning down the next side street so he’s alone again, with no one following, just like that.

“well, you can,” she teases, and some of the anger he’s carrying around with him fades, dissipating into nothing and evaporating like smoke. “but you’re not.”

“no, i’m not,” he agrees with a sigh, shaking his head. “you sound surprisingly cool with it, though.”

“should i not be?” cadence laughs, but he can detect a thread of nervousness in her tone. “i already want to hang out with you. we have the same friends and work in the same industry. we’re... probably going to go on dates anyway, so... how hard can this be?”

god. she has absolutely no idea. part of him thinks it’d be cruel to burst her bubble, but he should warn her, shouldn’t he?

she sounds so optimistic about it, though. it’s hard to feel anything but hopeful when her voice turns up like that at the end. in the back of his mind, there’s a voice that’s not his suggesting maybe this time, things will be different.

surely he knows better than to think something as ridiculous as that, though, right?

“well, i guess it’ll be interesting, at least,” he muses, slowing his steps by the entrance to the subway.

he’s going to lose his signal just as soon as he heads underground, and he’s not quite ready for that, yet.

xiv.

time with raleigh flies by.

it doesn’t feel like they’re fake-dating -- they do everything she hopes he’d want to do with her anyway, like go out to eat at fancy restaurants and take walks through the park and bounce melodies for songs off of each other, facetiming late at night from their apartments or on the days he visits her and micah in the studio.

he’s by her side for the release of her first single, and her first music video, and through it all, raleigh plays the role of the doting partner perfectly, holding her purse on the red carpet and feeding her paella at a strategically-placed outdoor table and fetching her coffee order when she’s too busy to stop writing for even just five minutes.

in the blink of an eye, it’s time to put out her album -- just like that.

raleigh’s perfectly charming through that process, too. he shows up on time, says all the right things, and keeps a drink in her hand all evening long, so that when she’s finally done making the rounds and can enjoy herself after the entertainment and the networking and the schmoozing she’s giggly and touchy, doing her best to steal him away from the crowd.

“what were your other relationships like?” she asks, half expecting him to brush her off, though he’s always indulged her before. they’ve never really gotten this personal. “fake or... otherwise.”

“they’ve all been fake,” he shrugs, “and i can say with confidence that you’re the best one i’ve ever had.”

“really?” cadence smiles, chin propped up on her hand as she leans over the bar. “be honest. what did you really think, when you realized it was me?”

“what?” he asks, pushing the empty rocks glass in his hands around on the bar top, “you mean this thing?” he gestures at his arm, covered in expensive, custom tom ford, and the tattoo laying innocently beneath it.

“uh huh,” she confirms, “‘cause i was totally like oh shit.”

raleigh laughs, loud and wild, the sound swallowed up by the noise of the party around them. no one nearby is paying them even an ounce of attention, and it’s fun, to be anonymous at her own party, invisible to everyone in the room except for him. “i can imagine. i wouldn’t want to be stuck with me either.”

cadence shakes her head -- that’s not what she’d meant. but before she can protest, he rolls his glass between his palms and thoughtfully continues, “i guess i was a little surprised. it felt like i’d been waiting forever to meet you, so part of me was like, fuck, we’re doing this now? and i never thought it’d be someone so...”

“boring?” she suggests, eyebrows arching when raleigh’s expression immediately twists into one of disagreement, his nose scrunching up with distaste.

“no,” he huffs, “so... good, i guess.” she stares at him as he reaches for one of the waiting tequila shots on the bar, pulling it away from the line he’d set up for the crowd he’d been with before she’d tugged him to the side to talk, leaving the drinks untouched. raleigh knocks the shot back -- no salt, no lime. he’s had twice as many drinks as she has, and she’s definitely feeling them -- she has no idea how he’s even still upright, no worse for wear other than a few slurred words here and there. “but you just are. it’s like every song i’ve ever written was about you, and i just didn’t know it yet.”

the noise of the party fades in favor of the pounding of her heart, loud like a kick drum in her ears. she bites her lip and stares at him, watching as raleigh shakes his head at himself, dazed. “you okay?” she asks quietly, leaning in a little across the bar.

raleigh’s quiet for so long she has to wonder whether or not he actually heard her. just as she clears her throat and opens her mouth to repeat herself even louder, he nods, reaching across the bar and squeezing her hand before dragging her back over to the line of tequila shots waiting for them to enjoy.

the night is a blur after that, and there’s patches of the evening that are fuzzy in her memory the next morning, but she knows she’ll never forget the gentle kiss goodnight raleigh gives her when he helps her stumble into the car back to her apartment at dawn.

xv.

things go really well, until they don’t.

they have a blissful six months together with more fun than he’s ever had with anyone. slowly, he learns every single thing about cadence and returns her openness with honesty of his own -- honesty that feels strange and unfamiliar but weirdly thrilling, in a way, made easier every time one of his stories pulls a laugh or smile from her.

it seems unnatural, having a honeymoon period that goes on for so long. in the entire time they’re dating, he doesn’t destroy a single thing -- doesn’t even want to, which is the weirdest part of it all.

there are some moments that catch him completely off guard. more than a few times, he hardly even recognizes himself, she turns him into such a different person.

he doesn’t hate it, though -- just the opposite, in fact. raleigh realizes he’s really starting to like the carefree, far from jaded person he is when he’s with her, though it only hits him for real when he’s watching her storm away from him on liberty island, eyes fixed on the angry sway of her hips.

he stews on it on the long ride back to his penthouse; the game had, admittedly, been starting to wear on him. but he’d gone along with it because it was supposed to benefit her -- he’d agreed to the stupid public breakup and following the rules and not seeing cadence in public for the foreseeable future because it was what she wanted, and -- frankly, it felt like a stupid fucking decision.

not that it lasts long. he starts texting her just as soon as he’s done washing electralite out of his hair and doesn’t make it more than twenty minutes when they first see each other again at the moda gala before he’s sneaking off with her, ducking under the velvet rope that demarcates the planetarium as ‘off limits’ with her hand tucked neatly in his.

“maybe this is better,” cadence muses between sips of her drink, her eyes on one of the stupid glass exhibits he couldn’t possibly care less about. “now we can just be together -- no pressure. our relationship is ours again.”

their relationship. is that what this is? they’ve spent a lot of time talking about who they are and what they like and don’t like, kissing and touching and holding hands. throughout it all, he’s done his best not to buy into the ‘soulmate’ bullshit too heavily, but over the last few months it’s been hard to deny that there’s a reason he was meant to meet her, that she’s been changing him from the inside out.

“what’s on your mind?” she asks, turning towards him with an open look of genuine curiosity on her face, like she really wants to know.

“it’s nothing,” raleigh answers at first, reflexively, like he has so many times before. no one has ever really wanted to know. but cadence’s eyebrows arch, and she waits, patiently silent, and then the words tumble out of him. “it’s just that -- my whole life, i’ve watched other people use each other. so many people are just interested in the concept of celebrity status. so i played the game. never trusting anyone.”

he shrugs. a hand lifts to rub his jaw, and he looks back to meet her gaze just in time to see the little smile playing at her lips, like she already knows what he’s about to say. “but it’s different, with you. you make me not want to be that person anymore. when i’m with you, it’s the only time i feel anything real.”

“raleigh,” she murmurs, her expression flickering before her face does something that cracks his chest wide open. her eyes go all shiny and sparkly and her cheeks crease with a grin, and the way she laughs is so ridiculously joyful the hand he has stuffed in his pocket curls into a fist to stop him from doing something stupid. “i feel the same way. i just... this whole thing, i know it doesn’t always -- work out, but... with you i really want it to. i’ve never felt this way before about anyone, and i think...”

there’s a pause as her lips purse thoughtfully, and then she says the words that make it impossible for him to do anything but close the distance between them and kiss her over and over again: “i think even without this tattoo it’d be you, anytime, anywhere.”

xvi.

being raleigh carrera’s (real, confirmed, 100%-authentic) girlfriend feels almost too good to be true.

raleigh is... everything she never knew she wanted in a boyfriend, wrapped up into one tall, dark and handsome package, with a loud, goofy laugh and a deep, sexy voice that sends a shiver down her spine whenever his mouth so much as lingers near her ear for too long.

it turns out that, despite their differing status in the industry and her initial assumptions that they came from two completely different worlds, they’re actually on the same page about pretty much everything. she finds that the pressure of the word she’d held in such high regard for so long -- soulmate -- disappears entirely where he’s concerned because being with raleigh is just fun.

there’s motorcycle rides and boat trips and hours up late talking about everything and nothing; facetime calls with his mom and shopping trips where the stores are kept open late for them so they can shop alone, in an empty boutique, like every teen movie she’d ever watched growing up.

there’s late nights in the studio and either of their apartments where they both noodle around on their guitars and improvise half-hearted duets, content to just work in the same orbit as each other for as long as possible.

raleigh’s texting one night on the couch in her living room when she plucks out the melody to who i’ll be on her old acoustic, sitting on the floor in front of the tv.

he looks up before the first verse is over. “what’s that one? it sounds good.”

“oh -- just a song i wrote in college,” cadence hums, already downplaying it as she lifts her shoulder in a shrug. “i got stuck, never finished it. ellis made me sell the progress for some other writer to finish.”

he frowns, pushing up onto his elbow. his phone is tossed carelessly somewhere among the couch cushions. “why?”

“because i was taking too long with the odyssey,” she sighs. “it was kind of my only option. it’s weird, though -- thinking about someone singing something that was so personal to me.”

“play me what you had so far,” he says, and so she does, hesitating for only a second before strumming the chords, singing the lines she had slowly.

when she’s done, she looks up to find that raleigh’s slid to the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees as he leans in as close as he can get with the coffee table in his way. “okay -- that was beautiful. you should finish it.”

she shakes her head, setting her guitar down. “i can’t. they already sold it. and even if i wanted to... i don’t know how it ends.”

raleigh’s legs spread in invitation and she stands to walk around to the couch, slipping into his lap and leaning back against his chest. his hands are tender as he rubs them across her shoulders, sliding up her back before one lifts to brush a lock of hair back behind her ear, his pointer finger pushing her glasses up her nose affectionately. “maybe one day you can write something else with the same theme,” he suggests, and she tries her best to smile even though it feels like a dream lost, somehow -- a ridiculous thought, given that she pretty much has everything she ever wanted, but the way she feels all the same.

“maybe,” she sighs, the kiss he drops to her forehead a bandaid on a wound that’s been doing its best to heal for what feels like her entire life.

xvii.

he’s never brought a date to the vinyls before.

there’s been plenty of after parties he’s stumbled out of with a girl on his arm, sure, but cadence is the first person to sit by his side during the ceremony, and he’s surprised by how much he likes having her next to him.

then again, he’s self aware enough to realize he’d like being pretty much anywhere, with her.

still -- the awards are a lot less boring with her around to kiss and stroke his hair and make snide commentary about the rest of the attendees with, and when she squeezes his hand goodbye to rush backstage and get ready for her performance he misses her instantly.

what happens next makes him endlessly regretful of the fact that he’s not backstage with her.

he rushes around just as soon as he can, pushing his way through security and frantically scrambling technical assistants to find her exactly where he thought he might, between ellis knight and fiona, looking lost with her head in her hands.

she seems equal parts broken and pissed in a way that tugs at his heartstrings and makes him a little bit proud. raleigh shoves through the crowd to get to her and slips an arm around her waist. he’s only caught the tail end of the conversation they’re all having, but he knows enough to know that “you can’t bench her. that’s bull.”

ultimately, though, it doesn’t matter how much they stomp their feet. she’s under contract, their hands are tied, and he walks away seething at the unfairness of it all, this shitty industry that’s turned on her when all she ever wanted to do was make music.

she cries in the car back to her apartment to pack her things. there’s no way he’s letting her go home to iowa or idaho or indiana without him, and he barks at his team over the phone until they agree to move his appearances around so he can make that happen, his free hand clasped tightly in hers until he physically has to let her go so she can unlock her front door with trembling fingers.

cadence tosses clothes haphazardly onto the bed and he silently and precisely moves to folds each piece for her, until she gives up and sinks down onto the edge of the mattress, defeated.

wide eyes filled with tears lock onto his, and he watches her bottom lip wobble before she says, “you really don’t have to do this. come with me, i mean. i know i messed up, and -- you have so much else going on. i don’t expect you to --”

“i’m coming,” he states firmly, setting the sweatpants in his hand down and stepping closer to her, sitting beside cadence on her bed. “what happened tonight was fucked up, cadence -- it shouldn’t have happened at all. i’m not going to let you go through this alone.”

“but --”

“but nothing,” he says, and before the words have even left his mouth she’s falling into his arms with a soft sound of gratitude, mashing her face into his chest as she sniffles.

“thank you,” cadence mumbles, sounding so unsure of herself it makes him wonder if she’s ever had anyone show up for her when it mattered most before, or if that’s yet another thing they unfortunately have in common.

xviii.

raleigh tries his best to cheer her up, but it’s still hard, feeling like she’s let the entire world down. her fans. herself.

there’s something embarrassing about showing raleigh her apartment back home and the person she was before she met him -- all the places she felt most uncertain and where she experienced some her worst self-doubt, the room that still has the smoothie star apron hung up in the closet.

but there’s also something exciting, about being totally off the grid with him. no one knows they’re here and there’s no paparazzi waiting to snap photos of them -- especially given the fact that they don’t leave her building for the first three days she spends moping around while raleigh orders all the takeout he can get his hands on.

it sort of reminds her of when they first met, and there was nothing to do but learn about each other, though now there’s a familiarity to him she relies on, a unique raleigh-ness that feels more like home than this shitty apartment ever did.

still, she struggles, and the weight of the world doesn’t let up until zadie shows up with her fanmail and avery does his best to make her smile with a beach trip and some fancy new toys and a day in the sun with a drink in her hand.

eventually it’s just her and raleigh again, out by the fire after everyone else has gone to bed. her stomach is full of s’mores and her cheeks hurt from smiling for the first time in weeks, and it’s a shock when she realizes she feels content, even after everything that’s happened -- almost as though things will all work out for the better no matter what happens next.

“oh my god,” she gasps suddenly, cutting off what raleigh had been saying as her eyes light up and she hastens to stand. “i’ve gotta -- i need to -- oh my god.”

just like that, she knows how her song ends.

recording it is a process, but raleigh calls in some favors and gets them studio time and agrees to be featured on the song even though she knows he’s still working through a sound change that he feels unsure about.

but it means a lot to her, having him crammed in the booth at her side, singing into the same mic. they sound almost unbelievably good together, too, raleigh’s harmonies on the words that finally resolve that lost feeling she’s been harboring her entire life making something deep within her wriggle up happily, wagging its proverbial tail.

the fact that raleigh remains by her side throughout the entire fight with her label, the long nights of despair agonizing over what her next move is going to be and even the moment where they decide to break into indio, of all places, means more to her than she can ever say. she feels markedly less nervous about the entire thing every time she turns her head to the side and sees him, right there next to her -- right where he’s been this entire time -- smiling encouragingly and squeezing her hand hard in his.

though it’s not until they’re up at the top of the ferris wheel that she realizes how precious what she has really is. it’s not until he looks her dead in the eye and says, with that same soft earnestness he’s awarded her since they first met at the one in a million auditions that feel quite literally like a hundred years ago, “cadence, everything you want is on the other side of fear. and i want you to have everything you want,” that she truly understands that’s what between them is special and rare.

not because of any tattoos, or any preconceived destiny. not because of who they are and their status and the fact that people take pictures of them when they’re out in public together.

but because of this -- all these real moments of genuine connection they’ve been fortunate enough to share since fate threw them into each other’s paths.

“raleigh, i love you.” the words are said easily, not a moment’s hesitation behind them.

just before she crosses over in the cart to kiss him until they’re both breathless, raleigh gifts her the brightest smile he has and says, “i love you, too.”

xix.

the night is a blur from the moment he first takes the stage with his old bandmates to when he finally finds himself alone with cadence in a rundown old motel a few miles out from the festival in the desert.

he can’t recall ever being so happy, so of course he doesn’t remember every agonizing detail of the evening, though he does know he doesn’t feel the need to have a single beer with cadence around, twirling barefoot in the grass and giggling when she leads him up to the room they’ve borrowed.

afterwards, when they’re sitting on the roof together in the blanket they dragged off the bed, he reflects on the wild year they’ve had with her in his arms, fingertips tracing the delicate very funny scrawled across cadence’s collarbone.

he feels... free. completely liberated. like there’s absolutely nothing and no one that can get to him, now, like he’s untouchable, like he doesn’t care about a single thing that happens after today and how perfect things have been.

“i think i’m actually freer than i’ve ever been,” he muses, where his lips are pressed into her hair, “i can take my sound in any direction i want.”

“i’m so happy for you, raleigh,” cadence returns genuinely, tilting her head back so he can see her upside-down smile.

his arms tighten around her. “i’m so excited for what you’re gonna be doing, too. i’m excited for us.”

“yeah,” she sighs, “who knows what’s next, right? now that ellis let me out of my deal...”

he can hear the thread of worry undercutting the words. he shakes his head, hands rubbing up and down her arms. “you can worry about that tomorrow. for tonight, just enjoy the comeback. what you did out there was amazing.”

“what we did,” she corrects, and he blinks up the stars as he realizes she’s right -- they’re a we now. he’s part of a we again, after being on his own for so long.

the phrases bounce around in his head, unfamiliar and foreign. me and my girlfriend, he thinks to himself, cadence and i. we’re going to be late. we’ll be away that weekend. we just started watching that show. we, we, we.

“what we did was amazing,” raleigh amends, the words slow to come out but feeling right all the same. “whatever we do next will be amazing.”

“absolutely,” cadence confirms, with conviction, like it’s something she believes wholeheartedly.

and though he has no idea what to expect or what it might be, a large part of him is inclined to agree with her -- she’s been right about everything else so far.

xx.

one year later, she’s finishing a set in berlin, the last stop on a sprawling european tour that had taken she, avery, micah and raleigh across the continent for dozens of performances to sold-out crowds of thousands screaming her lyrics back to her.

if her contract with overknight had been a dream come true, signing to wilshere records is heaven incarnate. cadence’s trip through the u.k. with her new label is proof enough, and the chance to meet new fans with new stories to share that she could connect with is one she’s taken to with enthusiasm, the experience made all the sweeter by the fact that her favorite people get to be by her side throughout it all.

berlin’s crowd is one of the best, and she fully expects to end the tour on a high note, head banging to the last few notes of ‘knockout’ before raleigh’s planned entrance for the last song of the night, so they can sing the duet that’s closed out every show they’ve had on the tour together.

when he struts out with his guitar, waving and grinning at the crowd, she can’t stop herself from smiling stupidly at him, just like she does every time she sees him join her on stage, every time she realizes that this is their life, that this is something they do every night, now.

though her grin falters when raleigh pauses in front of his microphone and asks, “berlin, do you mind if i talk a little bit before i start the song? no? cool, because i’ve got an important question to ask.”

her eyes widen. cadence’s mouth drops open and doesn’t close throughout the entire speech raleigh gives her, even though thousands of people in the crowd are filming every moment of her gaping like an idiot, snapping close-ups of her shocked face.

the arena practically vibrates with screams when he drops to his knee, popping the box in his hand open so she can see the giant diamond ring nestled inside of it.

“so?” raleigh asks, and cadence can just barely hear him in her in-ears with the way her heart is beating frantically up into her throat, as wild as the crowd’s raging around them and then some. “whaddya say, babe? will you marry me?”

as if the answer could ever be anything but yes. she nods, laughing as she launches herself into his arm for a kiss that’s too grand to be given on stage, though that’s hardly going to stop her -- not tonight, at least. tonight, she’s okay with the whole world watching their every move, just one more time.

“oh, i don’t know if it’s going to fit,” raleigh jokes as the ring slides easily onto her left hand, amping up the theatrics for the fans still watching them avidly, even up in the cheap seats.

cadence rolls her eyes playfully at him. “very funny,” she praises, and the grin he offers her in return is so loving -- so knowing, with the secret that only the two of them share and every weird piece of their history included in it -- that it takes everything she has to shove him away so they can perform instead of dragging him down to the floor to kiss him over and over again.

clumsily, she flubs a few notes of love who i’ll be on her guitar. from across the stage, between the bridge and the chorus, raleigh jeers, “someone hasn’t learned to play with the extra weight on their left hand, yet, i see,” and when she flips him off while belting out the last lines of the verse, his raucous laughter is all the harmony the final few bars of the song needs.

#platinumweekend #platinum #raleigh carrera #raleigh carrera x mc #cadence dorian #raleigh x mc #raleigh x cadence #myfic #long post #well. this sure took me a long time DFJGHDFJHGDFJKGH so i hope you guys like it !! it was kind of a new style for me 😳

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