#however! it always came across to me like a lousy attitude to have | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writingindulgence · 3 years

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Illumi x F.Reader - Expectation

Pairing: Illumi x Female Reader

Story tags: Arranged marriage, typical Zoldyck behaviour, angst-ish, heavy manipulation, ILLUMI, unhealthy one-sided dependence : ) my guy just toxic

3,200+ words and why? I don’t even like the dude. Also, two points of view.

The sound of fancy porcelain tea cups clinking against the glass table is soothing, along with the warm rays shining on your face. Times like these are what you are thankful for. The smell of purposely picked flowers, arranged to please the eyes. Not the stench of trash dumped for the sole convenience of other countries. Colourful butterflies and bees, instead of flies and disease ridden rats. A home cooked meal ready for your consumption rather than scraps of rotting food that you more often than not nearly died for.

Kukuroo mountain is infinitely more beautiful compared to Meteor City.

“(Y/n) dear, it’s unbecoming of you to make noise with your tableware,” a powerful feminine voice chastates your mistake. The woman sitting opposite you is none other than Kikyo Zoldyck. Or as she forces you to call her, mother.

Your heart flutters in relief, an apologetic expression weaving onto your face. She must be in an agreeable mood since her fan hasn’t struck your hand. Sometimes you are let off with a warning if she spots a blunder on your part. Sometimes, she resorts to physical punishment. It always depends on whether or not a family member said anything to ruin her day. In fact, any matter concerning Killua will set her off in a positive or negative direction.

Just like Illumi whenever you bring up his younger brother.

“I apologise mother, I’m too excited because Illumi is returning,” you proceed to take a sip and this time around, gently settle the tea cup down.

A content hum comes from her direction, her visor flashing for a split second. “Oh (Y/n), you’ll make such a good wife one day.” She picks up a fork gracefully and stabs it into the cake she asked for from the family cook.

The compliment ignites a multitude of feelings in your chest. It spreads out, only one thought in your mind.

How immensely grateful and happy you are to hear it.

Many of your friends from when you were young, starved to death. Some were beaten up by other desperate residents. Others lost their will to fight, a state you threaded on a magnitude of times.

Being taken away by the mafia one day was what gave you back the spark, a life in the city no more out of your reach. Until you figured out what type of work they wanted to sell you and other kids for. Stories from the older girls back in Meteor City came rushing back.

Your bloodlust and instinct to survive are what happened to change your life for the better. Out of all the line-up of children, you were selected by the Zoldycks. Instead of being the pet of some old pervert, you found a home within the assassin family.

There were many times when you felt like giving up. When the training you went through was worse than simply dying. However, you promised yourself to never throw away the chance you received all those years back.

You were indebted to the Zoldycks.

Hearing words of encouragement from one of the people you looked up to the most brought tears to your eyes. You wiped them away with your thumb.

Mother is a role model to you. It helped when you found out that she originates from Meteor City too. In a sense, it is easier to place yourself in her shoes and strive to achieve what she did. Being an amazing assassin, wife and mother.

A sudden scraping of a chair brought you back to the presence, startling you into a defensive pose. The knife under your sundress clasped in your hand.

Out of the corner of your eye you notice Kalluto coming out from behind the bushes, his paper fan also ready for action.

“My Kil, what is he doing?! Quick, we have to stop him. Kalluto go call for Milluki right now!,” she orders shrilly before running into the mansion.

Without hesitation, you rush after her. It is expected of you. A nagging feeling in the back of your head also foreshadows that whatever is going on, it will have dire consequences if not stopped.

Killua is in the foyer, being kept idle by the servants. But not for long. You can see the irritation growing on his face, his muscles tensed.

You’ve known Killua since he was a baby, having been inducted as a future family member when mother was pregnant with him. There’s no doubt that if something wasn’t done, it would lead to a messy aftermath.

A few seconds after you make it inside, Milluki shows up and the servants are all dismissed.

“Kil, my little Kil, what’s wrong? Why did I hear that you’re leaving to take the Hunter’s Exam?,” mother’s voice is aghast, the idea of her favourite child abandoning the nest filling her with pain.

You too are taken aback at the news, a protective sensation coursing through you. Your fingers flex at your side.

“It’s boring here and I heard that the Exam is difficult so I’m going to test my skill,” he shrugs her worry off and spins his skateboard. Your heart begins to pound uncontrollably.

Hearing the disrespect, Milluki steps up and lashes out at Killua. “You brat, what’s with that arrogant attitude you-,”

“Stop that!,” mother’s voice sharply cuts him down.

She begins pleading with Killua to stay, her voice cracking multiple times. It pains you to watch someone you respect growing so desperate.

Killua is too young to understand what he’s putting the ones around him through. Of course, a rebellious phase is healthy-

A prickly discomfort surges through your head and you clutch it. Your unexpected movement grabs everyone’s attention. You try to brush it off, not wishing to be a burden.

It isn’t expected of you to be one.

“Killua, you should stay here. The world is a dangerous place,” your words try to reach him. “Illumi is coming home today, why don’t we-”,

“I don’t want him around! Just leave me alone,” he angrily interrupts. The air grows heavy. Heavier than it’s been since the beginning.

Mother gasps in shock at his behaviour since Killua never really yells at you. Yes, he gets annoyed as much as any other kid but when he shouts, he doesn’t really mean it.

It’s expected of you to coerce him into calming down.

“You’ve changed during the past few weeks (Y/n), after Illumi came back before leaving again. Anyway, I will kill you all if you try to stop me,” Killua promises in a cold voice, his blue eyes a piercing ice.

This rouses an onslaught of insults from Milluki and a mix of agony and happiness from mother.

However, you’re currently stuck in your own mind, reflecting on Killua’s comment. It is true that during the past three weeks you doted on him more than ever before. Usually you try to split your attention between him and Kalluto when you have free time. What changed?

Nothing should have changed, Killua is the priority of the family.

A high-pitched scream echoes around the foyer and your clouded head awakens. The sight in front of you freezes your blood and it takes immense strength not to bite your tongue.

Mother is kneeling down on the ground, her hands covering her bloody face. Before you can take a step, Milluki rages and charges at Killua. The young boy bounces back and proceeds to plunge the knife into his older brother. Milluki curses and grabs his wound.

On impulse, your hand is already equipped with a knife and you’re ready to protect yourself as well as mother Killua.

Killua mistakes your movements as an attack and strikes his own knife across your arm. A long gash appears on your skin, the blood seeping out moments later. You take in the pain as punishment. Punishment for letting it get this far and failing.

You’re a failure.Failure.Failure.Failure.Failure.Failure.Failure.Failure.Failure.

Taking the chance to escape, he kicks his skateboard up and runs out.

And you were helpless to stop him.

It’s been a while since Illumi has been back home on Kukuroo mountain, his previous mission requiring him to travel across multiple locations. The target was a cautious person so they moved from place to place, leaving lousy decoys. That did not impede Illumi at all, it was simply an inconvenience at worst.

After all, nervous-wrecks are the ones who put their emotions out on display. They are the first to slip up due to the fact that they care about others.

Which is concerning because Killua is at a stage where he is showing his rebellious streak more often. It is crucial that he can snuff it out before his dear brother falls further down the slope of idiotic fantasies . In which case, it is a slight relief that (Y/n) is here. She tries to keep Killua in check in a subtle way instead of hanging over his shoulder or perpetuating his moody behaviour.

Though the last time he visited there were hints of her growing soft and losing her devotion of raising Killua to be the next head of the family. He is ashamed to confess that it irked him to some degree. It’s expected of her to put her desires down for what he wants. And he wants Killua to be the next head.

Even so, he thought that he dealt with this the last time.

However, imagine the surprise he felt when his mother came wailing to him, begging him to follow her little Kil to the Hunter’s Exam. To think that instead of a joyful family reunion, the news of his stray younger brother reached his ears before anything else.

That won’t do.

Currently, it’s close to midnight which is the time (Y/n) comes to his room to say goodnight. Why she even bothers is beyond him. The effort of keeping up with formalities could be used for better activities. It’s already indisputable that they are arranged to marry in the future at the request of his parents, so there is no reason to be close together in any romantic sense.

In fact, Killua will succeed as the head which is why there is no point in thinking about his own future.

A sigh leaves his mouth.

There is only one positive outcome that came out of this whole arrangement. He has an extra set of eyes and he’s sure that she will listen to him without question. All he has to do is play into these formalities and she’s wrapped around his finger.

An affectionate hug here, a tiny smile there...Normally he’d be concerned that a future Zoldyck , even if not by blood, would be so easy to deceive. However, since every carefully planned step is coming from him he’s not surprised in the slightest.

It’s expected of (Y/n) to be loyal, just as much as it’s expected for Killua to take over the family business.

The wooden clock hanging opposite his bed strikes 12 but there is no sign of (Y/n). She never runs late.

The fact that she hadn’t even greeted him when he came back is also unusual. Normally she’d be pacing in front of the entrance door but today his mother took over that role. He heard that she got injured by Killua but (Y/n) has experienced worse so what’s the fuss?

It’s not his problem, he’ll just take a bath before bed. She’ll come running eventually.

Illumi’s right arm is beginning to grow numb. He hasn’t moved from the water in over an hour. Not because he needed a break to relax, taking time off for yourself is inefficient. No, he hasn’t moved because he’s been waiting for the familiar steps and hesitant knock to come from outside his room.

Discerning who someone is from the sound of their footsteps and how they carry themselves is second nature to any professional assassin. For instance, Milluki hovers in one spot when walking while Kalluto creates soft patters with his toes.

On the other hand, (Y/n) always shuffles her feet forward just before his door. It takes her approximately 2 seconds to knock when she’s unsure, 1 second when she’s in a normal mood and 0.5 whenever she has news deemed worthy enough for him to hear. Reading the mood of someone before they see you face to face is important.

Coming to terms with the fact that today she won’t pay him a visit, he steps out of the bathtub, water dripping down his naked body. He throws on a plain black bathrobe and leaves the bathroom. Giving his bed a quick-over, he walks out the door.

Guess it’s time for him to pay a visit instead.

If he actually bothers and gives it some thought, it’s not a mystery as to why he hasn’t even seen her shadow today. She’s ashamed. Ashamed of being a failure for letting Killua go.

Her scrambled mind is most likely trying to piece together what she should say. How she should ask for forgiveness and repent.

He wonders if she’s starving herself or if she’s contemplating about going to the self-confinement room.

Normally he’d push her into whatever she makes up but a stick approach by itself won’t be enough. There needs to be a push and pull factor involved if he wants her to listen to him unconditionally.

And what better way than to appear before her, disheveled and still wet in his robe? She’ll jump to conclusions.

Further guilt will set in, how she unnecessarily worried him by skipping the usual goodnight. His state will continue feeding her imagination, connecting unrelated dots to make her believe that he cares for her.

Truly, a puppet and its real master.

Soaking footprints follow behind him on the floor, the dim candlelight making them difficult to notice. He knocks once before letting himself in and shutting the door, back turned to the only other person inside.

A small gasp penetrates the silence and a rush of steps follow suit, stopping just behind him.

“Illumi, welcome back,” (Y/n) is the first to speak. He stays silent.

A nervous shuffle. “Is..everything okay?”.

The voice quietens downs the more she speaks. That should be enough for now.

He turns around and looks down at her concerned face, with no emotion of his own. Her eyes widen a fraction after registering his condition. Before she can open her mouth to question him further, Illumi crinkles his eyes and smiles.

“It’s nothing. I was just worried since I didn’t see you today,” he gazes away, giving her enough time to fix her expression. It’ll be harder for him to get her to open up if she thinks that he sees through her lack of control.

“I missed you too-,”

Presumptuous to think that he missed her.

“-and I’m sorry for not saying anything. I just…,” she stops right before confessing her shortcoming.

He doesn’t provide her with any more time to compose herself, a full day is already generous. Grabbing the door handle he gives it a slight tug but her hand shuts it and pulls his sleeve. That’s new. (Y/n) rarely takes the initiative.

He allows her to drag him over to the bed, slightly curious about her next move. Is she trying to entertain him as an apology or simply trying to put distance between him and the door?

Both tactics aren’t half bad when it comes to simple targets.

He sits down on the covers and analyses her.

A long white nightdress, face ready for bed, barefoot, and a long knife wound going up her arm.

A shred of pride for Killua’s work passes through his head but he doesn’t showcase this. If by any chance she spotted the look, it would demolish the picture he wants to paint.

(Y/n) kneels down in front of him and takes his hand into hers. It’s warm, though not as soft as it used to be. Her breasts rest atop his knees.

His attention migrates from the sudden action to her face, looking for answers. He made sure that she will only expect affection coming from him, not the other way around. It would be too tiring to keep up a loving demeanour- no, scratch that. It wouldn’t be tiring but the expectations would eventually rise and it would result in less time spent on bringing up Killua.

Oh, he zoned out.

(Y/n)’s eyes are full of regret and desperation, the hand holding his trembling just enough to tell him that today’s event is eating at her. Is she waiting for him to say something?

Finally after what feels like an unprecedented amount of time, the scene unfolds.

Her smaller hand pulls his to her face and rests it against her cheek. The second his skin touches hers, he detects slight heat radiating. She must have not treated the cut. The knife was probably dirty too, Killua slacks off in that regard.

“I’m sorry for being a failure, I’m very sorry Illumi. I have no excuse,” the apology flows out of her mouth, bottom lip quivering. The pain of looking at someone she disappointed forces her eyes to shut close. Her free hand latches onto his thigh and she digs in before continuing.

“You can slash my other arm as punishment. Or hang me upside down in the self-containment room,” she throws out. “But please, please don’t give up on me. I can do better Illumi”.

And as if to prove how determined she is, her eyes open up again, staring deeply into his own. Unwavering. Confident.

Though the thumb that he has under her jaw gave the hammering pulse away.

1,2,3. 1,2. 1,2,3.

He stretched out the silence, pretending to ponder over his answer. The unsettling emotions influencing her thoughts will prove beneficial when he flips her assumption around.

He removes his hand from her cheek and moves the one on his thigh to her side. (Y/n) adopts a look of relief, believing that he agreed to her conditions of punishment. What he’s about to do is infinitely more cruel though.

She catches her breath when he follows her example and kneels in front of her. He pulls up the sleeve of her nightdress that’s slipping down before grabbing her shoulders, gently.

“How can I not give up on you when you give up on yourself,” he lectures her, peeking down at her wound. Make the target question their actions.

An expression of remorse adorns her face, a downward tug of the mouth.

He pulls her in, arms encircling and resting on her lower back. The material of the nightdress is light enough for him to make out the feeling of skin.

“Though I won’t give up on you.” Affirmation and a moment of reassurance.

One of his hands travels deliberately slowly up to her neck. It rests on the back of her head, fingers entangled in her hair. Illumi locates the present that he left her the last time he visited and pushes it back into her head. It has moved slightly out.

This prompts (Y/n) to hug him in response, her previously hanging arms now resting comfortably around him. Good, as for the finishing line.

“Though your failure is a disappointment, I know that you will not repeat the same mistake, because you

love me, right?”.

Her head moves to rest between the crook of his neck, nodding in agreement. She doesn’t ask him if he loves her.

It’s expected of her not to.

#illumi zoldyck #illumi x reader #illumi zoldyck x reader #hunter x hunter fanfiction #hunter x hunter #This took 2 long but now I can focus on other things yay

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moonbeamsung · 4 years

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Serendipitous Synergy

“I can’t believe I got stuck with you, of all people, as a dance partner.”

“What? Scared I’ll steal the spotlight?”

“In your dreams, Lee.”

member: haechan

au: dance partner and rival!haechan x gn!reader

word count: 4.9k

genre: angst, suggestive, fluff

warnings: talk of insecurities and thoughts of self-doubt, a house party, stubborn reader, smug haechan, mentions of ‘sexual tension’ in the context of a dance, kissing, slight innuendos

author’s note: As a dancer myself, this idea came to me after we learned the choreography for Thriller in class one day! And yes I know Halloween was weeks ago but shhh. It’s my first time writing an enemies to lovers au, so I would greatly appreciate any feedback about things I can improve on in the future. Without further ado, I hope you enjoy!

network tags: @neo-constellations

“...You’ll be partnered with Haechan.”

The words of your instructor seem to swallow up the dance studio you’re standing in, echoing off of the walls with a piercing sound that makes your ears ache, your gut twist, and your blood boil.

This could not be happening.

Said boy seems just as averse to the idea as you are, the corners of his mouth downturned in displeasure.

Your teacher, however, continues to rattle off the rest of the pairs, some of them a little surprising but none nearly as unexpected as the two of you being put together.

Eyes narrowed and gazes sharp as daggers, both you and Haechan turn to stare each other down.

The standoff makes everyone else in the studio uneasy, and though the other dancers aren’t unaccustomed to your endless rivalry, they fear the potential hostility of your reactions. But to their astonishment, it never escalates beyond these stinging glares directed at one another. You’re surprisingly professional about it on the outside, not letting a single swear word slip out from between your lips, while he bites back a snarky insult.

On the inside, though, you’re a mess.

Haechan has been somewhat of an enemy of yours for as long as you can remember, though by no fault of his own. No matter what you did or how hard you tried, ever since you were both young students struggling to find your footing in the artistic world, he’s always been better than you. At everything.

If you managed to nail a double pirouette, he’d step right up and do a third like it was nothing. You finally got your split? He’s already had it for a month, at least. It just wasn’t fair. You both had started dancing at the same age, at the same time, with the same amount of experience: zero.

In all honesty, Haechan had done nothing wrong. The combination of poor timing and better luck had worked against him all those years ago to brew these bitter feelings inside of your heart, rising to the surface whenever you would set foot inside the familiar studio.

These constant sentiments of inferiority took their toll on you, making you fear being compared to him above anything else. It was childish, but you couldn’t stand to be reminded of feeling completely and utterly incompetent next to him. Whenever you performed, you were grateful for the large amount of other dancers occupying the stage, leaving little opportunity for the two of you to be noticed in conjunction with one another.

Now that it’s going to be just the two of you under the bright beams of light cascading down from the rafters, dancing in close proximity, this worry is at the forefront of your mind.

You would do anything to be able to go back to your first year at the studio, when you were young enough to recognize that his skills seemed to outweigh yours, but as a carefree child you remained largely unbothered by this fact. As you got older, it was like a switch inside of you flipped and made you extra aware of each and every thing that you did. Perhaps it was the heightened self-consciousness that puberty brought combined with the already stressful lifestyle of a dancer, but something changed one day, and it was all you could think about when you saw him.

Your internal doubts always translated into being eerily quiet during practice, asking a question to clarify the movements only when it was absolutely necessary. Even your teacher noticed a shift in how you danced. Your gestures and steps lacked their usual precision, and all the confidence you had built up for so long vanished into thin air.

Not sure how to interpret your sudden silence, Haechan took it upon himself to get a word out of you in whatever way that he could, with comments and jokes and even the occasional compliment on your technique. It hardly helped, though. In fact, your constant failure to respond to his attempts created a sort of resentment in him as well, one not generated by envy or insecurity, but simply by confusion and frustration.

During practice one afternoon, you had become so fed up with him trying to talk to you that you lashed out, pushing him away with surprising strength. “Just leave me alone!” You had shouted at Haechan, but you instantly regretted it when you saw the way his eyes welled up with shiny tears, full of hurt after his genuinely good intentions had been totally rejected by their unwilling recipient. Your guilt, however, failed to overpower your stubbornness.

This sent Haechan into his own spiral of the silent treatment before he started to channel his feelings into a similar bitterness. From that day forth, you each became the other’s arch-enemy, challenging one another in any way that you possibly could inside the studio and on the stage. Your instructor, choreographers, and fellow students quickly became tired of the implicit competition that always existed between you, but what on earth could they do to stop it?

At the present moment, they’re contemplating this exact idea, along with just why your teacher thought pairing you with each other would be a good idea. She had done it with the intention of putting a long overdue partnership into action and hopefully eliminating your immature rivalry. Selfishly, she’s also very eager to see how your mutual contempt translates into movement, inwardly predicting that the tension levels will be off the charts.

Not long after, you’re dismissed from practice for the day, but not without a warning look from Haechan. Against your better judgment, you join him by the doorway once everyone else has filed out of the studio.

He clearly called you over for a reason, but you cut him off without even waiting for him to speak.

“I can’t believe I got stuck with you, of all people, as a dance partner.”

Oh, so this is how you’re acting? Two can play at that game.

“What?” He snickers, “Scared I’ll steal the spotlight?”

“In your dreams, Lee,” you scoff, already tired of his taunting attitude.

“Anyway,” his voice is stern before doing a complete 180, now a bit more gentle, “If we’re going to be dancing together for the next few weeks, we might as well be on speaking terms, don’t you think?” The expression Haechan wears on his face is the softest you’ve seen it in a long time, which is definitely saying something.

“I suppose.” Answer short and tone abrasive, you huff a lousy excuse for a goodbye before marching out and into the hallway, but he’s faster than you. You spin around to shrug off his hand from your shoulder, and it gives him the chance to tell you one last thing.

“Look, if you’re going to be like that, it’s not going to make working together any easier. We’re not little kids anymore. You can go back to hating me once this is all over, but can we at least try to put our differences aside and just cooperate for once?”

You nearly split your lip as you bite down on it, holding back a burst of aggravation at the situation you’ve been put in. “Fine.”

You have no idea how you’re going to get through all the practices and all the shows while simultaneously dealing with the boy, but one thing’s for sure: you’re going to prove that you are just as skilled, and just as talented a dancer as he is.

The next time you see him is two days later, at your first rehearsal for this dance. Your studio has always had a Halloween-themed showcase, but it wasn’t until this year that you were old enough to finally be cast in a more exclusive number. The fact that you’re no longer a part of the large group routine, always performed to the same upbeat tune and with the same easy steps, is one of the few silver linings that your duet with Haechan presents.

Faces lined with fatigue and eyes still heavy with sleep, you both arrive at the studio in the morning, duffel bags in hand, the comfy slides on your feet dragging across the hallway carpet with every step. Loud music blares from inside the room, brightly lit despite the early hour. Beside you, Haechan instantly recognizes the tune to be Michael Jackson’s Thriller, and perks up a little at the sound. Too tired to poke fun at his near obsession with the singer, you let his little celebration of the choreographer’s song choice slide.

It’s not your usual instructor that’s going to be teaching you the movements to go along with the piece, which means you have the added challenge of adapting to a different set of preferences, expectations, and choreographing style.

It’s certainly a dance that’s unlike any you’ve ever learned before.

The rehearsal starts off well, and both of you quickly catch on to the basic steps that are somewhat like those of a waltz, except they have a more sinister feel to them in order to match the spooky time of year. Facing each other but standing on opposite sides of the room, you step forward, to the side, to the back and then to the side again. On each accented beat you throw your heads back sharply, mimicking the way the neck of an inhuman creature might snap under any sort of force.

In the next section of choreography, your gazes are supposed to meet once you tilt your heads downward, slowly this time, but it’s difficult to maintain eye contact with Haechan for more than a few seconds. Maybe it’s the way he doesn’t even hesitate to stalk towards you in this part of the dance, which calls for you to circle each other like a hungry predator and its timid prey. Maybe it’s the animalistic glint in his irises that throws off your balance and makes you stumble when you see it. Or maybe it’s the fact that your rivalry with him has been entirely disregarded at the moment, brain focused solely on absorbing all of the new information and ingraining the movements into your muscle memory, nothing else.

What frightens you even more than the things that go bump in the night is that all those years you spent... well, not hating, but strongly disliking him could go to waste. It usually takes a lot of time for you to get over things like this, and in a way, you feel like you would be disappointing yourself if you let all of the agonizing feelings of self-doubt go, just like that.

These thoughts swirl around in your mind as you listen to the choreographer’s next words.

“Okay, put your hand here.”

“Like this?”

“Yes, now you’re going to drag it across him, from there to there,” she directs you with a finger, “And then he’s going to pick you up in a scissor lift.”

You’ve never done one of those before, but with some helpful guidance, you begin to have a small bit of faith in yourself that you’re capable of pulling it off. The music starts and you go from the top all the way to the part you were just taught, taking a deep breath in preparation for what’s about to happen.

Just like you had been instructed moments ago, you step very close to Haechan, right behind him, actually, and place one hand on his shoulder as you trail the other across the front of his chest, fingernails scratching the skin underneath through the flimsy t-shirt he’s wearing. You step around to stand in front of him and continue the motion, peering at him with a hesitance that melts away and into an assertive gaze once you see the apprehension in his own eyes. His skin crawls a little, not out of fear but an odd satisfaction and excitement at the feeling of you so near and the sight of your eyes bright with so much determination and dominance, lingering touch tracing the base of his neck and stimulating his nerves from head to toe.

You yelp slightly at what he does next even though you knew it was coming, your self-assured exterior evaporating only moments after it appeared. Haechan turns around and sweeps you off of your feet to hold you in his arms. In the blink of an eye, he helps you hook one of your knees behind his head as he tosses you into the air with seemingly no effort whatsoever, flipping you around to face the other way and catching you immediately after. The complicated lift makes your heart leap to the front of your throat with exhilaration, and you mentally applaud yourself for succeeding on the first try.

Haechan finds it odd that you were so willing to do this lift in the first place, since trust is a key component of partner work in dance. He can’t explain it, and neither can you, quite honestly. A small part of him, however, is glad you didn’t object to the prospect of him being directly responsible for your safety for even the most instantaneous of moments.

“Alright, so for this next part, I’m sure you’re aware of that fact that Michael Jackson was famous for his pelvic—”

Okay, that’s enough, you’ve heard enough. Tuning out the conversation and whirling around to face away from the floor-to-ceiling mirror, you twiddle your thumbs while the choreographer teaches Haechan one of the iconic dance steps in Thriller, and your evident shyness at her unabashed explanation makes him smirk. Thankfully, she has a different set of movements prepared for you.

Since when are you ever shy around him, though?

You still can’t bring yourself to watch your reflections in the glass when you practice the new part together, since he gets so into the provocative motions. His eyes seem to taunt you with the smugness they hold, and you hate the way he’s testing you. You can’t stand it, you can’t stand him, you can’t stand those eyes for all the times they send a shiver down your spine, for all the times they come alive with a beast-like glow. Those eyes can go from soft and sympathetic at times, although the moments are rare, to something else entirely. His mocking stares make your stomach turn, reminding you of why you’ve felt this way about him for so long.

But you’re scared that a new and different feeling is developing inside of you, one that’s telling you he’s not so bad, that you should give him a chance. Haechan has noticed a similar one within himself, and he begins to regret the way he immaturely perpetuated your own resentment for so long.

Even if you do end up making amends eventually, he’s not sure he’ll be willing to abandon all of the playful glances and teasing remarks with flirtatious undertones he sends your way. Do you even notice these things? If your periodic blushing is any indication, then the answer is most definitely yes.

You spend another couple of hours under the choreographer’s direction, stopping only when you had been taught each and every step from the piece’s beginning until the end. Though a Halloween-inspired performance, there’s a surprisingly large amount of eerily romantic undertones within it. You don’t have enough fingers to count the number of times you ultimately caress some part of the other’s body in a forbidding manner, with locked eyes and threatening, fiery glares.

The two of you also have a second but more simple lift, in which you jump and Haechan catches you by the legs to pull your torso against his, while you cling to him tightly like a koala. He supports your weight fully, and never once does the possibility of falling cross your mind. It’s strange how your body is so trusting of him, much more so than your mind.

Towards the end of the song, the lyrics mention something about cuddling close together, the timing of your movements intentionally mirroring the words. Haechan walks in a circle, still carrying you in his arms, and unlike when you’re standing on your own two feet, he actually has to look up slightly to meet your gaze with his own. Something doesn’t feel quite right, though, both of you sensing that you should be putting more effort into the eye contact between you right now.

“No, no, no! Stop for a second.” Your choreographer looks frustrated.

“You have to look at each other like you really mean it,” she corrects. “Just imagine that you’re two lovers on Halloween night, clinging to each other for dear life as you’re being surrounded by every kind of monster imaginable.” Even Haechan flushes a deep red at the descriptive picture she paints in your minds, hoping to inspire you. “Try again, please.”

Putting every necessary emotion into your expressions, you both stare each other down as he lifts you up again, this time with a never-before-seen passion burning in your eyes that could only be described as crazed, lustful desire.

Haechan has always admired your skills, although internally these days, ever since he met you, especially your ability to easily adapt to the message or tone of a piece. Happiness, sadness, anger, whatever your instructor asked of you, you could embody the exact feeling on your face, not to mention in the way that you moved to the beat. Out of all of the scenarios your choreographer could have illustrated, this one is something he never would have expected you to be so ready for. He’s taken aback by how smoothly your facial expression transitions from sheepish to seductive in no time flat.

You wish you could say that you’re not flustered by how well he matches the look in your eyes with his own tantalizing gaze, but alas, that’s not the case.

It’s undoubtedly a dance with a more mature theme than either of you are used to, but you’re both such naturals at it that she compliments you once Haechan sets you back on the ground.

“That’s exactly what I want to see! Keep it up, you two. Are you sure you’ve never been in a piece with any sexual tension before?”

You’re glad you hadn’t quite taken a sip from your water bottle yet, because you definitely would’ve spit it out from pure shock and embarrassment at the bluntness of her remark. Haechan was not so lucky.

The two of you run through the dance almost endlessly, and by the end of your rehearsal your legs are threatening to give out at any moment. “Last time,” she alerts you, “And then you’re done for the day.”

A chorus of some minor corrections but mostly proud affirmations meets your ears as you practice the piece for the final time. “Other foot, Haechan... Strong arms! Good... And lift! That’s it...”

About to collapse from exhaustion and grimacing at the disgusting feeling of sweat on every inch of your skin, both of you thank the choreographer once she dismisses you.

“You two did a great job today, now go home and rest. You worked hard.”

Fishing your car keys out of your bag, you hear her packing up her things inside the studio before she exits the room and strides into the hallway, flipping the light switch and shutting the door behind her. “I’m going to recommend to your teacher that she should partner you up more often. I was really surprised by how well you collaborated.” She chuckles a little, “And to think she told me that you might not get along.”

Exchanging questioning looks, you both nod and smile at her before she makes her way down the hallway, leaving the building through the staff door.

“What was that all about?”

“No idea,” you reply to Haechan with nervousness in your voice, not sure if this is the right time to apologize for several years’ worth of constantly being at each other’s throats.

The moment passes before you can make a decision, and Haechan bids you farewell with a “See you around” over his shoulder. You can’t get the choreographer’s comment out of your mind as you drive home.

But she’s right: your chemistry with each other is unbelievable. Each time you practice this dance in front of them, the rest of your friends stand wide-eyed and open-mouthed at how you move in perfect unison, leaping and turning and touching at all the right moments. Your instructor is sure her jaw is on the floor. Sure, she was expecting something powerful, something fierce, but nothing like this.

The weeks leading up to the Halloween showcase are hectic, as they always are, filled with the rush of adrenaline and last-minute preparations being made, ensuring that everything would be ready for those long nights spent on waiting behind the curtains, moving amidst the stage fog, and dancing below the bright spotlights.

You think you’ve spoken to Haechan more in the past 4 days than you have in the past 4 years. He doesn’t know if it’s just his imagination, but it seems like you’ve gotten more comfortable performing with him as time has gone by. Maybe he should be paying more attention to the steps instead of the way you lean further into him as he clutches your form in his strong arms, torsos pressing into one another and the crevices of your bodies aligning with ease. Maybe he shouldn’t get distracted by the closeness of your lips to his forehead, by the distance that always seems to decrease each time you run through the dance. One day he’s sure he’ll feel their delicate curve against his skin, or maybe they’ll slip down a little to be more level with his. Either way, Haechan isn’t complaining.

The rehearsals that spill over from their scheduled time slots into the late hours of the night leave everyone in the show drowsy after the intense quantities of repeated exertion, running piece after piece over and over again until just standing up is a feat within itself.

And then, all of a sudden, it’s the day of the first show. Costumes have been tailored, makeup has been applied and hair has been done up with an ungodly amount of products and pins.

It can’t be much longer until it’s your turn to perform, so you’re not sure why you find yourself grabbing Haechan by the sleeve of his intentionally tattered shirt, meant to look like that of a zombie, and pulling him into a dark, secluded corner of the backstage area.

“We’re on in 5, what are y—”

“Can I apologize?”

He blinks a few times, processing the word he never thought he would hear leave your lips.

“For... huh?”

“Everything.” You’re thankful that the lighting is minimal back here, concealing the glistening water drops that are beginning to gather at the rims of your eyes.

Voice nearly breaking, you can’t articulate why it feels like the right time to say all of this. But here you are.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for so many years of unexplained anger and outbursts towards you, I’m sorry that I’ve been acting so immature even after all this time. I’m sorry for blaming you and making excuses to justify my actions and my feelings, I—”

You have more that you want to say but the words are no longer coming out, and maybe it’s because your throat feels like it’s burning from all of the emotion it just conveyed in the span of just a few seconds. Maybe it’s because you’ve somehow lost your voice even though you hadn’t been speaking above a whisper. But the most probable cause of them all, is this: maybe it’s because you’ve been rendered speechless by Haechan’s own apology that he delivers by messily crashing his mouth into yours, any further thoughts melting away against his soft lips.

For once, you don’t mind being cut off by him if it’s like this.

His heart begins to sink when you pull away after only a few seconds, but a small smile graces his features once again as you lean in so that your lips hover next to his ear.

“You better not mess up my makeup, Lee Haechan.”

“Donghyuck, actually.”

“What?” Quizzically, you arch an eyebrow.

“My name. My real name.”

“So why do y—”

“Shh, no time. Kiss now, talk later.”

You can’t argue with that. Not when he’s beholding you with a long-awaited forgiveness and a fondness long-concealed in his eyes. Not when the thrill of a time limit has your brains going a mile a minute, an electric buzz erupting over the expanse of your skin his hands are grasping.

You kiss him like it’s the only thing in the whole world that you know how to do. The setting is far from picturesque, with the tangled technical wires littering the floor at your feet and leftover stage equipment haphazardly leaning against the wall, but neither of you really care. Taking care not to snag the fabric of your costume, his fingers find purchase on your waist and his lips on the dip of your collarbone. At first they dotingly imprint fleeting pecks onto the rise and fall of the skin there, but when their pressure and his haste starts to escalate, you know you have to stop him before he starts something you can’t finish.

“Hyuck!” The abbreviation of his name makes his head snap up, bewildered but pleased.

“You can’t leave marks, I told you...” you trail off. “Hey, why are you smiling like that?”

“Please never call me anything else, ever.”

Donghyuck brings you in for one more kiss, well aware that a stagehand could turn the corner at any given moment. Drinking you in, he captures your lips between his, letting your body press his back into the wall behind him, and a few sharp inhales later, you break apart.

You fix his hair while he adjusts your clothes, and you’re just in time because a technician spots you and urgently gestures towards the stage. “You’re up!”

Positioning yourselves on opposite sides of the large performance space, the lights go down and you hear the rush of air from the heavy curtain opening as it glides past you. The thick artificial smoke partially obscures his form, but you can see his eyes clearly, nearly glowing in the darkness.

As the music starts, slow and quiet at first, you step to the rhythm just like you practiced. When a loud, electronic chord blares, you both pick up speed, launching into that waltz step you first learned many weeks earlier. For the first time ever, you’re able to look into his eyes.

Anyone could see that your movements complement each other effortlessly, but only your teacher picks up on the shift in mood after the countless times she’s seen you perform in the studio. Only she notices the shift in both of your gazes. You look... happy. Focused. Confident.

Donghyuck was able to bring you out of the shell you retreated into so long ago. You don’t feel subordinate as you’re dancing next to him, or being held in his arms. You move as equals, two parts of a whole.

When he picks you up, you can’t help but allow a small smile to stretch your lips. Donghyuck tries to remind you that you’re supposed to have lustful looks in your eyes by narrowing his own at you, but it’s no use. Your slight grin is contagious, and it ends up taking over his face as well.

You finish the piece smoothly, ending in a pose with your backs pressed together and hands clasped. Applause erupts from the audience, and a few cheers come from the rest of the performers waiting in the wings, shielded from the view of the crowd sitting in the seats below.

Needless to say, as you pass other dancers in the halls and receive countless congratulations and compliments, all you can think about is having Donghyuck’s lips on your skin again.

One long heart-to-heart and dozens, no, hundreds of kisses later, all is right with your world. It’s foreign territory to you both, not wanting to pounce on each other at every waking moment. But it’s something you’ll explore together, figuring out how to make up for lost time and just how to go about this newly-repaired relationship.

Exiting the empty dressing room, you take his hand in your own and head backstage once again to watch the rest of the showcase from the side, with your head leaning on his shoulder and his arm pulling you close.

At the party held for all the members of the show’s cast that night, it’s far too loud for your liking, and there’s no room to properly dance with Donghyuck. Despite you all being professional dancers-in-training, everyone else seems to have reverted to the mindset of your average high school student, thinking that jumping up and down repeatedly qualifies as dancing. You disagree, but whatever. It’s not important.

What is important, however, is the fact that the two of you would much rather escape the suffocating crowd of young adults. You would much rather slip out through the sliding glass door that leads to the house’s backyard, marveling at the fading sunset that melts into a deep blue night sky dotted with splashes of clustered lights. The stars are nature’s spotlights, shining down on you as Donghyuck takes you in his arms, one hand finding yours and the other resting on your side, somewhere between your hips and your waist.

Swaying in the silence with only the noises of the evening as your soundtrack, the boy that you would’ve sworn was the devil incarnate a month ago looks so angelic, so lovable. You can’t believe this is what you’ve been missing out on.

“So, should we start over?”

“Definitely.”

There’s no one else in this world you’d rather dance the night away with.

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whenihaveyouromione · 3 years

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When I Have You - Chapter 23

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Chapter 23

How was it, Ron found himself wondering, August? It had been two months since Hermione and Ginny had come back from Hogwarts and a month since he and Hermione had found their flat in Diagon Alley.

And, it had been two months of happiness like no other. Ron liked living with Hermione. In fact, he loved it. This had been the longest period of time they had spent together since actually getting together, and it was going extremely well.

Weirdly, he found they argued less than they used to these days, despite being in closer proximity to one another all the time. Sure, small arguments followed them — things like who was going to cook that night, or how Hermione thought the picture frame she’d bought looked better on one side of the wall, whereas Ron would have preferred it to not be hanging up at all. But beyond that, they found themselves getting along very well, which pleased Ron.

He liked making her happy, and he liked being the reason she smiled or why she spent the day in a good mood, all because he’d kissed her good morning or told her he loved her. For some reason, he always seemed to find a way to make her laugh, even when she was worrying about what the future held for her.

Which had been the case ever since her NEWT results had arrived. She had pondered, stressed, and gone over each job offer over and over, writing a list of pros and cons for each, throwing the lists away, and then rewriting them until she had twelve inches of parchment on each one. She’d asked Ron for his opinion numerous times, where he’d simply told her she’d be amazing in whatever she chose (which was true, because it was Hermione, and she excelled at anything she did). His lack of decision making on her behalf had stressed her out even more, until he’d caved.

“Alright, well, it’d be cool if you accepted the Magical Law offer, because then we could work together.”

“But… I’m just not sure I want to do that,” Hermione replied, which had been her response to every job.

“Well, I’m sure if you asked any department in the Ministry, or went to McGonagall and asked for a job, they’d offer you something,” Ron said, stifling a yawn on the second week of discussing her future career every night.

“But you’d hate me going to Hogwarts again,” Hermione said, though Ron saw in her eyes she was contemplating the idea of teaching.

Ron shrugged. “We’d work it out. Besides, who am I to stop you from doing what you want?” He said the words because it was the right thing to say, but really, he knew she was right. He would hate it.

Hermione bit her lip, once again looking over the offers. Then, something changed in her expression. She set two of the offers aside and set the other one in front of her.

“That was a quick decision after two weeks of going backwards and forwards,” Ron said. He peered over at what she had chosen. “Magical Creatures?”

Hermione gave what seemed to be an attempt at a definite nod, but Ron noticed some uncertainty still. “I… I think this is the right place for me. I mean, I do feel very strongly about magical creatures, and… and maybe I can make a difference or something…” She scanned the letter and nodded again. “Yes, this is where I think I need to go.”

“Alright,” Ron said, grinning. “You’ll be great, whatever you do in there.” He also read the letter. “It doesn’t really specify what you’ll be doing, though, does it?”

“No… but I suppose I have to start somewhere down the bottom? I’ll be learning.”

“Well, you may as well write now and let them know. I bet they’ll be thrilled to have you. I know the Magical Law department will be disappointed, and no doubt Percy will be confused as to why you’d reject his offer, but… that’s a good decision.”

Hermione nodded, immediately jumping up to find a quill and some parchment. After she’d written her response to accepting the offer in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, she scribbled down rejection letters for the other two.

“I’ll just… go and post these now,” she said after she’d sealed them. “Honestly, I’m so glad we live right near the post office — it’s so convenient.”

“Would be even more convenient if we had our own owl,” Ron said.

“Maybe,” Hermione said dismissively. “I’ll be back soon,” and she was gone, hurrying through the door and down onto the street.

Ron shook his head. He’d brought the idea of an owl up a few times, though Hermione had not seemed too keen on it. Apparently having Crookshanks — who was far from impressed about the small space he suddenly found himself confined to — was more than enough for the time being.

Every time he mentioned it, he found himself longing for his owl, Pigwidgeon, who’d gone missing at some point during the war, most likely killed on a flight to deliver a letter. Ron had never been overly fond of the owl, but he — well, he had been fond of Pig if he was being honest — and he wished they could get another one.

Hermione returned from the post office half an hour later, declaring that she’d sent off her acceptance for the Magical Creatures job, and — to Ron’s surprise — carrying a cage with a small, brown owl.

“Hermione, what is —”

“You said you wanted an owl,” Hermione said, smiling. “Have you ever noticed the post office sells some of its unwanted owls?”

“Yeah, because they’re useless at delivering mail,” Ron said, his moment of elation deflating very quickly. Of course Hermione would choose an owl that she considered in dire need of help, rather than one that would do the job it was supposed to do. He eyed the owl with disappointment.

“Oh, Ron,” Hermione said, setting the cage down in the corner by the window that overlooked Diagon Alley. She took out her wand and Transfigured the cage into a perch. “I know they do that sometimes, but apparently it’s not the case this time.”

“What’s wrong with it, then?” Ron asked, now watching as the owl flapped its wings excitedly, taking in its new home.

“Nothing,” Hermione said. “Nothing at all. They just said they had far too many medium-distance owls. People are using the Floo Network and Portkeys and Apparition more freely these days and prefer to deliver their messages in person.”

“Oh, right,” Ron said, not completely convinced. “So, this one’s alright then?”

“As far as I know,” Hermione said, nodding. “They said her name was Arwen. I thought that was a nice name.”

“Well, as long as she does what she’s meant to, then I suppose she’ll do,” Ron said, offering a finger to the owl, who nipped it affectionately.

“It will be easier to have one here,” Hermione confessed. “I just… hope Crookshanks tolerates her.” She eyed the cat warily. Crookshanks had just slinked out from the bedroom — his favourite sleeping place — and was now watching Arwen with a hungry expression.

“We’ll leave the window open,” Ron said. “For a quick escape.”

Hermione didn’t seem to appreciate the joke.

But she had been right about it being easier having their own owl, and over the next two weeks, Crookshanks and Arwen learnt to appreciate each other in the house; though at times, Ron caught Crookshanks eyeing the owl off as if hoping to have a second dinner.

The first Monday of August came two weeks after that, and Ron once again found Hermione waking up before him. Wandering into the kitchen, she was already dressed in the Ministry robes she’d been sent. She sat at the table, a piece of toast in front of her with only one small bite taken from it.

“Excited for today?” he asked, coming over to kiss her. “You’ll do great.”

“I don’t think I know anything about magical creatures,” Hermione said by way of greeting. “I know nothing, in fact. I don’t know —”

“You know more than I do,” Ron said.

Hermione glanced up, her eyes narrowing as she looked over his bedraggled appearance. “Aren’t you dressed yet?”

“Um, no?” Ron said. “I don’t start for another ninety minutes. And —” he nodded at her, “— neither do you, for that matter.”

“Yes, but didn’t I ask you to come with me early?” Hermione said, her voice higher than usual.

“Yeah, and didn’t I say that was unnecessary?” Ron retorted. “You only need to get there fifteen minutes or so before nine. It’ll be fine. You’ll do great.”

But, it seemed that Hermione was in no mood for Ron’s casual approach towards her first day. “Please, Ron. I want to get there at least half an hour early. Maybe even longer… please.”

“Hermione, you really don’t need to —” But upon seeing her expression and how terrified she looked, he stopped what he was going to say and nodded. “Alright, I’ll go with you early. Just let me shower and eat something first.”

Hermione returned his nod and reached out a hand across the table to take his. She squeezed it. “Thank you, Ron.”

“No problem,” Ron said, smiling. “Anyway, it may give me some time to catch up on paperwork. Do you know they even give trainees paperwork?”

“Yes,” Hermione said, “because you’ve only been complaining about it for the last month.”

“Well, it’s lousy. I mean, we should be learning the practical things, you know? Paperwork can be for later.” He stood up and shuffled towards the bathroom. He was going to look a right fool arriving so early at the Ministry.

…

To his surprise, however, Harry had beaten him. Ron had arrived with Hermione in the atrium a little after eight. It wasn’t as busy as he was used to, but it was still bustling with workers, all eagerly heading towards their respective departments and offices. Unsurprisingly, Ron spotted Percy hurrying along. His brother may have changed in attitude since the war, but his obsessiveness over work had not changed one bit.

“What are you doing here?” Ron asked Harry when he stepped into the Auror Office. Hermione trailed nervously behind him, suddenly terrified at being in a place she had spent a lot of her free time visiting Ron.

“Preparing,” Harry muttered, and Ron noticed he was shuffling some papers in front of him.

“What for?” Ron questioned, coming to peer over Harry’s shoulder. Spread out before him, Harry had essays written on none other than Draco Malfoy and his parents. “Oh, of course. I completely forgot about that!”

“Yeah, well, lucky you,” Harry said, and he looked nervous.

The Malfoys had spent the last year and a bit kept under twenty-four-seven house arrest. They were unable to leave their house for any reason at all. The only thing currently keeping them out of Azkaban was that the Ministry was waiting for more qualified people to deal with their case. Like the last time Voldemort had been defeated, the Malfoys immediately claimed their lack of involvement in the war, trying to save their own necks and not caring about who they brought down with them.

In the countless interviews that had followed the war, Lucius Malfoy had apparently named and shamed every single Death Eater who had gone into hiding, giving himself temporary immunity for his information, and probably making some very unpleasant friends who were now locked up in Azkaban.

But, it was finally time for the Malfoys to be trialled, and as Harry had had some dealings with them towards the end of the war, he had been instructed to testify about their involvement in it.

Ron had laughed when he’d found out, sure that Harry would send all three of them to the cold, dark cells of Azkaban (where, in Ron’s opinion, they all belonged), but then Harry had explained that he didn’t intend to do that at all.

“As much as I dislike him, Draco was a product of manipulation. And, if it weren’t for Narcissa, I wouldn’t be here.” However, Harry had nothing pleasant to say about Lucius and intended to ensure he spent the rest of his life in prison.

“They’ll listen to you, won’t they?” Ron said. “I mean, they’ll do what you want? Draco and his mother out, his father inside. I still reckon you’re making a mistake. They’d throw you under the Knight Bus the moment your back was turned.”

“I’m not so sure,” Harry said. “After all, Draco didn’t give us away at Malfoy Manor…”

“And that went well, didn’t it?” Ron glanced sideways at Hermione, who had instinctively grabbed at her arm where her Mudblood scar was still very visible underneath her robes.

Harry said nothing, but examined his notes once again. He then looked up, his eyes flashing to Hermione. “Oh, it’s your first day, isn’t it?”

Hermione nodded silently.

“She’s a little nervous,” Ron said wryly. “You know what she’s like, overthinking everything…”

“You’ll be great, Hermione,” Harry said encouragingly. “They’ll love you there.”

“Thanks, Harry,” Hermione said quietly. She looked to Ron. “Maybe we should go…”

“I’ll be back in a moment,” Ron said to Harry. “Merlin, I wish I could be in those courtrooms with you today.”

“I’d much rather be in training,” Harry said. He got to his feet. “Mind if I join you for a walk? I need to clear my head.”

Ron and Hermione nodded, and the three of them left the Auror Office and headed toward the lift to make their way to the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

They’d almost reached the lift when all three of them stopped in their tracks. Ron had to blink a few times to make sure he was seeing correctly, then glanced sideways to Hermione and then Harry to make sure he wasn’t imagining it.

Before them, looking more haggard than Ron had ever seen them, were the Malfoys. All three were being escorted to the very lift Ron, Harry and Hermione had just been reaching, by silent Aurors.

Once proud of their blood status, of their family name, people who had always held their heads high, they looked utterly defeated. They were the bottom of the food chain now, kept locked inside for over a year and it showed. Their skin was paler and more gaunty than ever before. Lucius Malfoy’s hair was thinning in places, leaving bald patches where thick hair had once grown. He didn’t smile, but when he spotted Harry, something resembling anger flashed across his face.

Draco and his mother barely noticed them, Draco only looking up when they stopped for the lift. Unlike his father, the youngest Malfoy appeared fearful at seeing them. It was their first encounter since the fight at Hogwarts, and by the looks of things, Ron, Harry and Hermione had fared much better than he had.

Ron felt a sense of smugness that he didn’t at all try to hide. There was Malfoy, who had spent his whole schooling life tormenting Ron, reminding him of the Weasley family’s lack of wealth and promoting his own, calling Ron so many names that Ron couldn’t remember them all, looking very much the worse for wear. And opposite him was Ron, the so-called ‘blood traitor,’ considered a hero of the war.

The lift doors opening and the Aurors forcing the Malfoys into it was the only thing that prevented Ron from pointing that out. Though, he couldn’t help himself entirely.

“I suppose Harry’ll be seeing you in the courtrooms. You may regret all those jibes at him over the years, considering he has your fates in his hands.”

Fear graced all three of the Malfoys’ expressions now, and Ron smirked, despite himself. The Malfoys hadn’t been told Harry would be at his trial.

Ron glanced sideways at Hermione, as he’d expected her to reproach him for his comments, but she appeared not to have heard him at all. Her eyes followed the descending lift, a look of pity in her expression.

“God, they look terrible,” she said.

“You’re not feeling sorry for them, are you?” Ron asked, incredulous. “After all Malfoy did to you over the years? After all the times he called you a —”

“I just said they look terrible,” Hermione interrupted, a little stiffly. “Besides, we know Harry is going to testify in favour of Malfoy and his mother, so we’ll have to deal with them in society if the Wizengamot agrees with Harry, which they’d be stupid not to.”

“Doesn’t mean seeing them in society is something I’m going to enjoy,” Ron muttered as another lift arrived and the three of them scrambled in. “Harry’s too nice, if you ask me. I’ll never forgive Malfoy for what he did. For all they’ve all done over the years. You wouldn’t understand — you didn’t grow up knowing all about the horrible things the Malfoys were known for.”

The topic of the Malfoys died as the lift reached level four — the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Already, there were plenty of people roaming this level, which gave Hermione a very green complexion.

“Oh, stop your panicking, would you?” Ron said, stifling a laugh. He placed an arm around her waist, guiding her forward. “Where was it you have to go again?”

“The… the Being Division,” Hermione said nervously. As she spoke, they reached a sign with arrows pointing in all sorts of directions. “Left,” she said after a moment.

The three of them headed down a corridor, very quickly reaching large double doors with the signage of Being Division embossed above it.

“You’ll be fine, Hermione,” Harry said encouragingly, and he patted her on the arm. “Good luck. Let me know how you go. Actually, why don’t you guys come over for dinner tonight?”

“Er, sure,” Ron said, surprised by the sudden invitation. “Let me know how the trial goes, won’t you?”

Harry nodded and practically jogged back down the corridor.

Ron kept his arm around Hermione, giving her a squeeze. “You really will be great,” he said. “You’ll be so great they’ll be wanting to make you head of the department within a month.”

“Oh, don’t say that!” Hermione whispered.

“It’s only the truth,” Ron said, shrugging. “Do you need me to go in with you, or will you be alright?”

Hermione opened her mouth, and Ron suspected she wanted to ask him to go in with her, but she closed it before speaking and shook her head. “I’ll be okay, I think. Thank you for coming early…”

“Not a problem,” Ron said. “And, try and meet up with me for lunch, yeah?”

Hermione nodded, turning to face him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him. He kissed her.

“You really will be great,” he assured her. “Good luck.”

“Thanks, Ron,” Hermione said, and steeling herself, she pushed open the doors to the division and vanished from sight.

Ron beamed, making his way back to the lift. He had meant what he said. She really would be great. Hermione was great at everything she did. He had no doubt that one day she really would be head of the department if she chose to stay there.

…

Ron slumped from the training room at lunch time, feeling exhausted. They’d just spent the morning Apparating to multiple places around London, following planted leads as part of the day’s training. It had been fun, but tiring, having to move so abruptly over and over again.

However, as the trainers pointed out at everything they did — these were all real life situations they were being put in. Occasionally, once they finished training, they would be chasing Dark wizards around the country, and most likely further than London.

Dragging his tired feet to the tea room, Neville beside him, they collapsed into two chairs, not even bothering to look at what food was on offer.

“I wonder how Harry’s doing down in the courtrooms,” Neville said after a moment. “I wonder if the Malfoys…”

Ron glanced at Neville, feeling a moment of pity for him. Malfoy had made Neville’s life hell, too, and because of that Ron had not bothered to tell him that Harry planned on letting Draco off the hook. Instead, he shrugged, “We’ll find out soon, I suppose.”

A moment later, Hermione hurried into the room as well, looking frantic as she drew up a seat with them.

“Looks like you had just as fun a morning,” Ron said. “You alright?”

“Yes!” Hermione breathed. “I just… got lost on my way here…” She waved a hand around the room. “The Ministry is so much bigger than I thought…”

“You get used to it,” Ron assured her. “How’d it go?”

Hermione nodded, regaining her breath. “Oh, it was great! Do you know why they offered me this job to begin with?”

“Because you’re amazing?” Ron guessed.

“No, because they heard… they found out about SPEW! They want me…” She was so excited she could barely finish her sentence.

“Go on,” Ron said, smiling.

“Well, they want me to start rewriting laws for the rights of all intelligent magical beings.”

“What?” Ron asked, taken aback by this revelation. Not because he didn’t think it was a good idea — he had learnt a lot over the last few years — but because rewriting laws was not something they usually asked new employees to do.

Hermione nodded, beaming. “They said they were glad that I accepted them, because they thought I had a really good understanding, and Kingsley, apparently, has asked every department to start thinking about ways to change the Ministry. And after I knocked back the Auror offer, he thought it would be a good idea to have me there instead. Even if I’d accepted the Magical Law offer, I probably would have been doing something similar anyway.”

“Wait,” Ron said, “to change the Ministry?”

Hermione nodded again. “Yes, apparently he doesn’t want it to be as it has been in the past. He wants things done a better way, differently. He wants more Muggleborns in positions of power, he wants to encourage better relations with Muggles in general, so maybe one day, the Statute of Secrecy can be changed — though that’s a long way off, I think — and he just doesn’t want things to be as they once were. He envisions a totally different Ministry, and he wants us — me — to help with that!”

“Well… that’s great!” Ron said, reaching across the table to rub her arm encouragingly. “I told you you’d do a great job. And look, they’re already asking you to do something more advanced than most would. So, you’re rewriting laws?”

“Well, obviously not immediately,” Hermione told him. “It will probably take years to get such laws through and passed and then put into place. But they want me to focus on house-elves, goblins and centaurs first. I’ll probably start with house-elves, truthfully. I’ve done the most research into that.”

“Great!” Ron said again, though this time, he couldn’t help but wonder why Hermione had found all of this out on her first day, where he, Harry and Neville had been working there for over a year now and Kingsley had said nothing to them.

But there was no more time for conversation, for in that moment, Harry entered the lunch room. His eyes scanned it, and spotted Ron, Neville and Hermione. He made his way to them, grim-faced.

“How was it?” Ron asked as he pulled up yet another chair and sat down.

“Really bad,” Harry said. “Lucius… he’s a piece of work… even in chains. But Draco and Narcissa are free to live their normal lives.”

“What?”

All eyes flickered to Neville, who was staring at Harry with his mouth open.

“You mean Malfoy didn’t go to Azkaban?”

“... no,” Harry said, looking a little embarrassed. “They got off their charges. The Wizengamot deemed over a year under house arrest enough of a punishment for them. Lucius Malfoy has been sentenced to life in Azkaban, though.”

Ron noted that Harry didn’t explain to Neville that it was Harry who had testified against Draco and Narcissa. It would be in the Prophet tomorrow, anyway.

“Well, that’s good, at least,” Neville muttered, though he looked rather put out by this unexpected news.

Ron looked at Harry and Hermione, who looked just as uncomfortable as he felt.

“How’s your first day going, Hermione?” Harry asked.

“Great!” Hermione said, and she relayed what she had just told Ron and Neville moments earlier.

“Told you, you’d be great,” Harry said. “Also, Ron, Neville, I ran into Kingsley on my way up here. He says he wants to see us in his office after training today.”

“Uh, probably because we may have Apparated a little clear of the checkpoint today,” Ron groaned, looking at Neville. “Entirely my fault, but I swear some Muggles spotted us.”

“Why’d he want me there, though?” Harry asked.

Ron shrugged. “Anyway, anyone want anything to eat? I’m starving!”

…

However, Kingsley didn’t want to speak to them for matters regarding that day’s training. He wanted to speak to them about something resembling what Hermione had said earlier — about changing the way the Ministry of Magic functioned.

There they all sat, in the Minister for Magic’s office, not unlike the time where he’d offered them all Auror positions. But this time he was asking them for their ideas, not their service.

“But Kingsley,” Harry said, looking hesitant, “we’re just trainees. Surely you should be asking the more accomplished Aurors their ideas.”

“Everyone will be getting their chance to have their say,” Kingsley conceded, “However, none of them have had such involvement in a war, or contributed in the downfall of Lord Voldemort, such as yourselves — yes, you too, Neville.”

Neville flushed, closing his mouth.

Kingsley smiled at him. “You defeated a Horcrux, the final one, might I add, eventuating in the downfall of the darkest wizard of all time.”

Ron heard Neville mutter something about not knowing it was a Horcrux and clapped him on the back. “And you pulled the sword from the Hat. Can’t say I’ve done that, myself.”

Neville went even redder.

“So, start thinking,” Kingsley said. “I am pleased to have Hermione starting work around our relationship with other magical beings, and the three of you sharing your ideas would be completely beneficial.”

“But… why?” Ron asked, still coming to terms with the idea that his opinion in such an important setting was valued.

“Well,” Kingsley said, “as I mentioned previously, all of you contributed to —”

“No, I mean, why do you want to change things? The Ministry has run this way for centuries.”

“And, in your opinion, Ron, are you happy with how it’s been run in your lifetime?” Kingsley asked.

Ron thought about it for a moment. He supposed he wasn’t at all happy with the way things were run, though he’d never really considered the possibility of an alternative. Was that even possible? How could the Ministry change?

“There are still people who work within these walls that share values of old,” Kingsley continued when Ron didn’t respond. “And, while good workers, I envision a Ministry that is inclusive and accepting of all, regardless of their history or blood status. There is living proof in Hermione that just because she is of Muggle parents, it has not inhibited her ability to perform magic at all. She’s —”

“The best,” Ron interjected.

Kingsley nodded.

“But, Kingsley,” Harry began, “won’t there always be people who believe in things like blood status? We can’t entirely eradicate such old fashioned views.”

“No,” Kingsley said, “but we can work together by changing their attitudes. The Ministry has earned a poor reputation over the last few years, and rightfully so, but I seek to change many things within it, starting now. The three of you have proven yourselves as exceptional Aurors in the making, and your history shows your quick decision making is superb. I’m not asking for answers now, but I’m asking you to think about it. How can we make it a better place for everyone? How can we change things so we can ensure what happened to the last few Ministers, doesn’t happen again?” He gave a wry smile as he added, “Call me arrogant, but I wish to remain in this position for some time yet. I’m rather enjoying myself.”

There was silence again.

“I’m, of course, not expecting a change overnight,” Kingsley continued. “It will be years, I know, to get the big things happening. But I want you to be aware of it — to think about it. If you will?”

Ron looked between Harry, Neville and Kingsley, and saw that his friends looked just as perplexed as Ron felt. It felt weird that someone of Kingsley’s experience envisioned them as the future — young, barely out of school wizards who’d foolishly gone on a hunt for Dark artefacts that attempted to destroy them.

Personally, Ron thought Kingsley might have been banking a little too much on the luck they’d had along the way and less on their actual ability. Well, in Ron’s case, at least.

But he didn’t say anything as they left the office, all deep in thought. He’d still do as Kingsley asked — or at least try — and think of ways to improve the Ministry. One thing he did know that needed to change was the requirements it took to enter the Auror program. As was proven by the people who walked beside him, you didn’t need an Outstanding in your Hogwarts results to prove yourself to be good at the prestigious job. One’s experience, dedication and natural ability was much more important.

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scarlettlillies · 4 years

Text

Hetalia- The Moon

Me: Don’t have time to make anything super fancy so I’ll make some drabbles! Also, me: /writes a 1K fic instead

I didn’t get to participate last year in @aphbalticweek2020 so I was determined to get at least one fic for this year’s event. This is for Day 1, Moon. Set during his brief time under the PLC, it’s just a simple story of Estonia sitting outside and enjoying the moon.

This fic also features a few personal headcanons, including Livonia being Latvia and Estonia’s half sister and Setomaa as Estonia’s older sister. Livonia also calls Latvia “Leţ” as a nickname, short from Leţmō, the Livonian name for Latvia.

Deep within the pitch-black woods, a log cabin fit for a large family stood tall among the surrounding oak trees. The home however did not house a family but instead a group of mysterious individuals who bodies were tied to the lands from where they came from. They lived their lives isolated from the world around them but somehow other nations and nosy humans still managed to find them. They’ve come to accept that they will never be free to live they want to. Even now, they are technically servants under Poland and Lithuania but they were never around. There were five beds in the home—the fourth and fifth were always empty. That suited the remaining household members—Estonia, Latvia, and their half-sister Livonia—just fine.

Their “family” was an odd one. Estonia and Latvia were not related in any way but they might as well be. Estonia spent most of his time looking after him and making sure he stayed out of trouble. The poor boy lacked a verbal filter of any kind. He’d often have to come and pull him away from situations he’d purposely put himself into. It was hard to believe that Latvia was once a warrior in his own right when they were younger and yet now he would sometimes jump at the slightest noise.

And then there was Livonia. She had Finnic and Baltic blood running through her veins yet she grows to look more and more like Latvia every day. She was just as much as a skilled fighter like they were and had a feisty attitude that had even their eldest sister, Setomaa, clutching her silver necklaces. He three of them didn’t always get along but they still somehow can keep the peace and allow their home to thrive. Everyone pitched in where chores need to get done and they’d rotate with everyday tasks. Today, it was Latvia’s turn to cook the meals, Livonia was in charge of laundry, and Estonia was first in line on night watch.

Watching over the home was not always something they had to do. But with rumors circulating that the Swedes could be making landfall soon, they decided it was something that needed to be done. If Sweden was with his men, their home would be one of the first places they would go to.

Estonia was lightly dressed in a loose white top and dark trousers. He had wrapped himself up in a knitted wool blanket decorated in traditional patterns and sat on a wooden bench with his back against the cabin. Fire raged inside the lantern sitting to next to him on the table made of oak. His sword was to his right and had been dug into the ground, with quick and easy access to the handle. On nights like these, he always remained fascinated by the skies above him. Whenever it was his turn to stand watch, he was always blessed with clear skies and the moon shined its light upon him. However it was getting harder these days to see its beauty. Estonia hadn’t told anyone—but he’s slowly loosing his sight and he doesn’t understand why. It made him anxious; the Oeselians once held him in high regard at his strength to fight and the ability command the seas. But he is nothing without his eyes. How can he protect his home if he can’t see what’s coming towards him?

Even so, the moon had a powerful effect on him. Though a tense feeling remained within his chest, he still felt at peace with the scenery around him. His eyes grew heavy and his breathing slowed. The memories of his childhood brought him a sense of comfort. The one that his mind replayed the most was of him and Setomaa sitting together by her fireplace. She would hold him tightly, as if he was her own child, and she sang him the story of how their world was created. A large bird had found the perfect spot to lay its eggs. One contained the Sun, the other contained the Moon, and the final one contained the Earth. When they hatched, the bird took its nestlings and placed them in their respective spots where they stood today. Her voice was beautiful and gentle—he could listen to her sing for hours and never grow tired. He hoped they could meet again some day.

Estonia had nearly descended to the land of dreams when he felt something smack him across the face. The sharp sting could be felt all across the left side of his face as his jaw clenched. When Estonia had opened his eyes, Livonia was standing above him, dressed in her nightgown and a patterned shawl wrapped over her shoulders. The lantern gave off a warm glow against her strong face. Though Estonia could not see her expression, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that she was furious.

“Some lousy guard you are!”

Estonia used his hands to rub the sleep from his eyes, “I’m sorry. I must have gotten too comfortable and started to doze off.”

Livonia sighed, “You should have been more careful. If there had been under attack, we would have been slaughtered by now.”

Livonia placed her lantern on the table, across from Estonia’s, and took a seat next to him on the bench. Her head had fallen to the side and rested against Estonia’s shoulder. She had just scolded him a minute ago for sleeping on the job but her eyes were just as heavy as his. They were supposed to have alternated spots later in the night but Livonia was several hours early.

“Can’t sleep?” Estonia whispered.

“Leţ is snoring again,” she had replied as her tone slowly turned groggy, “This is the third night in a row. I just want one night of some peaceful sleep.”

“Well, you can stay out here with me. I don’t mind the company.”

There was a lengthy pause and Estonia wondered if Livonia had dozed off. But finally she had spoken up. As sleep deprived as she was, Livonia remained as snarky as ever, “I better not find you asleep again when I wake up.”

Estonia let out a light chuckle as he lifted his head up towards the moon. He couldn’t make any promises—but he could certainly try.

#balticweek2020 #Lilly's Writings #APH Estonia #APH Livonia #hetalia #ocs

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asgardianthot · 4 years

Text

Three times Bucky nursed Sam back to health

Words: 2247

Warnings: gunshot, injuries, vomit (but there’s fluff to make up for it!)

The first time, it came as a shocker; An unexpected attack on a regular mission. Sam was caught unready and was surprised by a gunshot on his leg.

As soon as he felt the impact, a wave of pain paralyzed him. Bucky heard him cry out in pain, then a few exchanges between the Falcon and Wanda over the comms.

"I'm okay."

That was all Bucky needed to hear, but the ache in his tone made the sentence difficult to believe. Hardening the grip on his shotgun, Bucky contemplated his options. He could continue fighting and help out the team, or he could take a look at Sam in order to find out if he truly was okay. Then, there was the problem of how he would handle that interaction. His mind had spent far too much time thinking of Sam lately, and he was clueless as to what to do about those feelings.

Eventually, he found himself kneeling down next to the injured man, not even realizing that he had ran over there.

"How bad is it?" The words left Bucky's mouth faster than the speed of his thoughts.

The veteran groaned as he rested his head against the wall, sitting on the floor and looking very defeated. There was a visible stain of blood leaking from his pants on the extended leg.

"I'll be okay. Go." Sam tried to ease Bucky, however wincing from evident pain.

Only when Barnes approached his hand to the harmed thigh, he noticed how shaky they were. He immediately retracted the gesture, suddenly feeling nervousness overtake him. Not only he didn't know how to talk to Sam anymore, ever since the realization hit him that he liked the Falcon, but now he was bleeding out right in front of Bucky. The latter was about to go into full panic mode.

"What- what do I do?" He stuttered.

"Just go back, I'm fine." Sam barked back.

The brunette knew that was wasn't an option. He shook his head and swallowed hard before speaking.

"No, you're not." He protested, reaching to lift Sam's body from the ground. "Come on."

By helping the fallen soldier hop on one leg, they managed to walk themselves to the quinjet, where they found safety and quiet. Sam was gently sat down, although it didn't stop him from complaining about the pain on his limb.

"Where's the medical kit?" Bucky asked, frantic.

Sam shut his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to control the sharp feeling of a bullet pressing against his muscle.

"Under the oxygen." He sighed out. "I can get it, don't worry."

Bucky refused to dignify Sam with an answer, seeing how he most definitely shouldn't get up nor limp across the jet, and how Bucky himself had already established that he would be doing the curing.

The former assassin found the gauze and sprinted to wrap it around the injured thigh, as a way of stopping the bleeding and stabilizing the zone.

"That good?" He looked up from the wound to check up on Sam's expression.

The appellee nodded while pressing his lips together, riding off the wave of agony.

"I'm gonna stay here until the others get back, okay?" Before Sam could protest to that statement, Bucky raised his voice. "I'm staying, no matter what. You're hurt. You need me here."

That was the first time Bucky grew a pair when it came to Sam, and ever since, he didn't stop being honest. Being with Sam made him want to be open and caring and truthful about what his heart felt, which is why it didn't take too long until they were both pretty infatuated with the other.

The second time, Bucky had been expecting it. Sam's performance in missions had been sloppy lately, for the Falcon was under a lot of stress. SHIELD seemed to have a preference of sending him alone to take care of private matters, probably getting him ready for higher-stake issues. Bucky wasn't a fan of the idea. He loved Sam. They had been open about loving each other for a while now, and if there was something Barnes didn't appreciate was SHIELD forcing his boyfriend to keep secrets from him. Especially, since it meant Sam would receive orders at any given moment, and the former soldier now turned agent would have to fly out, no questions asked, only to return bruised and exhausted.

This particular night, though, Sam returned worse than usual. As soon as he stumbled inside the house, Bucky could hear him complain. When he saw the black eye and the way Sam held his ribs like they were about to fall off, his chest ached with concern.

"Why do you sound mad?" Sam asked, half-jokingly, while his boyfriend held an alcohol-dipped cotton ball to his face.

Bucky was uncharacteristically silent while he cleaned the open wound on Sam's cheekbone. The veteran was also enduring a broken rib and a lousy, dislocated shoulder. Nothing he wouldn't easily recover from, but also nothing that should have occurred in the first place.

"I'm not even talking." Bucky mumbled, not looking away from the bruised under eye area.

"And yet you sound mad." Sam smirked.

The brunette didn't grant him the attention. He didn't laugh, for there was some truth to Sam's observation. He wasn't mad at the man he adored, he was monumentally angry at the shady organization that was pushing the man he adored towards danger. He was frustrated at his boyfriend for agreeing in the first place, and he was more than worried for his future of crime-fighting. Not to mention how much it hurt to see him torn apart like that.

"You shouldn't be getting hurt like this, you know?" He eventually said dryly. "Just FYI."

Sam appreciated the response, but didn't lose the light attitude, thinking that it would hopefully make Bucky worry less.

"I thought it was part of the job." He narrowed his eyes, only to then get a rush of pain from the alcohol that seeped through his small wound.

He winced and bit the inside of his cheek in order to cope with it.

"Not so badly." Bucky remarked. "Not so often."

"You saying I'm dumb or something?" Sam raised his eyebrow, playfully.

The man healing him mimicked the expression, in a way of implying you said it, not me. He continued to clean Sam's face, taking his time as he wasn't prepared for what would come yet; someone had to pop the shoulder back into place. That was never pretty.

"I'm fine." Sam finally eased him with a sweet tone. "Just getting a hang of the new wings and all. Makes me a little slower."

Bucky nodded, still not buying it. Sam knew when Bucky wasn't tranquilized by his words, so he tried again.

"Hey." He made himself heard, causing Bucky to lower the cotton ball and look directly into his eyes. "I'm okay. Stop worrying."

It took a few seconds for Bucky to accept it, but eventually, Wilson saw the love and concern behind Bucky's eyes, behind all those layers. The latter placed a hand on Sam's cheek, to which Sam reacted with approaching him and planting his lips on his boyfriend's. With that kiss, Bucky transmitted how sorry he was for acting so cold.

The third time, was the worst of them all. Sam got infected in a laboratory base he was commanded to raid. It was an underground operation to create chemical weapons, and as he dealt with it, he accidentally ran into one of said creations. The virus made its way inside Wilson's organism too quickly, therefore, Sam flew back to headquarters where he could get checked. Hopefully, the virus was prevented from expanding thanks to an antidote, an aggressive vaccine that would flush it out and avoid his demise. The virus turned out to be so quick to spread that all agents at headquarters were told to get their own shot as prevention, even after the doctors had neutralized the threat to the point of making it non-transmissible.

The downside to it all were the effects of the antidote. Expulsing such a virus would cause a fever, vomiting, and all kinds of nasty experiences, which was why Sam was recommended to find someone to care for him that night, and assist him on such horrid state. Bucky, of course, stepped in.

I got you, Sammy. Always got you.

Sam gasped the words out with tiredness. “You’re gonna get inf-“

Yet he was unable to finish his sentence, for another wave of vomit crashed his body, and he had to throw up on the bin that was being held by Bucky.

The sick man was sitting on his bed, shirtless and sweating profusely, while Barnes sat behind him and surrounded him with his arms for support, while keeping the puke bin in his hand.

“I won’t. Remember?" Bucky said sweetly. "I told you before?”

He had explained a million times how he was immune to any kind of infection, because of the prevention shot, but Sam kept forgetting. The high fever didn't let him think straight, nor retain information for that matter.

“I can’t get it from you." He reminded him once again. "Now drink.”

As soon as the cup of water approached Sam's face, the latter bent over and threw up again. Bucky took the opportunity to lose the glass and fetch the wet towel he was keeping nearby. He patted it against Sam's burning forehead while the poor man panted. His sweat was as hot as his skin.

“Get it out.” Sam groaned, breathless.

“You’re doing great.” Bucky hushed him, trying to get the idea out of his boyfriend's head.

“Get it out.”

“You’re getting it out, Sam." He repeated himself, getting the water cup again. "Just drink.”

Apparently, the idea of hydrating –or probably just the mere thought of ingesting anything– kept provoking nauseas, for he rejected the water once more in order to throw up on the recipient.

Suddenly, the sound of sobs coming from Sam made Bucky's heart break in a million pieces.

“Knock me out, I don’t care.” Sam's pleas were echoed inside the bin, where he breathed loudly into. “Sedate me, just get it to stop.”

Barnes shut his eyes as he felt his heart weight. As painful as it was to break Sam's hopes for the hundredth time that evening, they had been through this. Wilson had to throw it all up, flush the virus out. He couldn’t just sleep the discomfort away.

Bucky got the second bin from the floor and handed it to Sam, retrieving the one that was filled with Sam's vomit and heading for the bathroom. He washed it on the sink, and when he returned, he saw Sam laying on his back with his chest heaving. The current caregiver turned the air conditioner up for the feverish man to sweat less, before sitting right back behind him.

He ran his hand up and down Sam's bare back. "Where does it hurt?"

“Everything.” Sam mumbled.

Barnes pressed the wet towel on Sam's forehead. “I know, baby. Where?”

All he could do was try to distract the ill man, and it worked for a minute.

“M’head.” Sam spoke with a tone that sort of implied that the towel made it better. “Chest.”

“Here?” Bucky confirmed on a random spot and soothed it with his hand. “Stomach?”

Wilson nodded. Bucky focused his caresses on the diaphragm, thinking that it must be in hell after contracting so much for him to throw up.

Then, he heard Sam gag painfully, yet nothing came out.

"Shhh, it’ll stop hurting, I promise.” He said softly while massaging his ribs.

“Don’t baby me.” Sam protested with his last bit of energy.

The reaction caused Bucky to be unable to prevent a smile. “What’cha want me to do, then? Scold you into health?” He mocked his suffering boyfriend.

“Idiot.”

“I can yell at you if you want.”

“You know that’s-“

Unfortunately, the jokes came to a stop when another gag reflex hit Sam, hard.

Bucky went back to soothing Sam's head.

“Okay, let’s not talk for now, maybe. I know it’s hard for you to shut the hell up. Especially when I’m talking, cause I’m such a moron, right?”

Sam simply nodded, and Barnes had to laugh because of course he had to call himself a moron for him to get quiet and calm.

The next morning, Bucky woke up to an empty bed. Panic overtook his every fiber when he realized that Sam wasn't there with him, for the ill man was probably very weak, still. A million scenarios of tragedy ran through his head in a fraction of a second; Sam could have walked downstairs and gotten hurt. He could have passed out somewhere. He could have tried to-

When Bucky picked up on the sound of the shower running, he jumped out of bed.

He ran inside, only to find Sam on his feet and working the water.

“Hey, hey, what are you doing?” Barnes frowned in concern.

“I stink.” Sam replied with abnormal tranquility.

“You could have fallen.”

Sam sighed and slowly sat down on the edge of the tub. Bucky reached out to help, but Sam was okay by himself. At least okay enough to sit.

“I can get up." Sam said with annoyance. "Or scream for help like a damsel.”

There was no amount of worry that could outweigh how Sam made Bucky feel. One small joke, and Bucky's face would light up with adoration. Feeling calmer, he smiled and held both of his hands on each side of Sam's face.

“How are you feeling?” He asked genuinely.

“Better." Sam was looking up at his boyfriend with loving eyes. "A lot better.”

“Good.”

Wilson grabbed Bucky's metal hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Thank you.” Before Bucky can shake his head and reject his gratitude, Sam continued. “I would’ve thrown myself off the window if you hadn’t been there with me.”

A proud grin appeared on Bucky's features. “I make a great nurse.” He joked and bent down to kiss Wilson's forehead, only to scrunch his nose with exaggerated disgust. “You do stink.”

“I know. Help me get in there.”

Barnes proceeded to aid his boyfriend in getting undressed, and gave him a hand to sit under the running water. He gave Sam his privacy and came back only after he heard the water being turned off, and spent the entire afternoon pampering Sam, who never stepped out of the wet towels. Bucky just loved to wrap his body entirely and kiss his face until it bothered him.

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #hurt/comfort #hurt/comf #tw: injuries #tw: gunshot #tw: blood #tw: vomit #angst #fluff #sambucky fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #sam x bucky #sam/bucky #sam wilson/bucky barnes #ftws #the falcon and the winter soldier

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mostlycompetentwriter · 4 years

Text

It’s All About The Game- Part 2

Sophomore Year

Pairing: OC x Seo Changbin (Stray Kids)

Genre: High School AU, Enemies to Lovers, Sports Fiction (basketball, man!)

Warnings: None (at least for this part)

Word Count: Almost 11,000

Summary: Despite her hesitance, OC allows Changbin to become a regular mainstay in her seemingly normal high school life. But who is she to turn down someone willing to become friends? However, perhaps OC completely misread the situation because it seems like Changbin wants more than just friendship. The problem is OC has no idea how to handle his advances.

Notes: Yes, I waited until the very last day in December. New Years Resolution: Post at more appropriate times.

August

Message from Han Jisung:

I’m coming home today

My fingers trembled with excitement as I typed out a short reply, eager for the opportunity to see Jisung again after an entire summer waiting for his return. My only saving grace came in the form of the well-intended letters he sent in the mail from his campsite up north, talking about all the activities his older, and overly enthusiastic, camp counselor was forcing him to join. The letters made me laugh as I held them tightly in my hands, seeking out his familiar words as I found myself inadvertently experiencing his adventures with him, vicariously living through Jisung’s expertly crafted stories. They stood in stark contradiction to his contributions: various postcards from the expensive European cities his summer league basketball team were visiting to participate in tournaments.

London

I won MVP in the tournament again.

Berlin

You’d be impressed with the game I had today.

Paris

I miss you, Reynolds.

I was beginning to think Changbin actually genuinely believed I wanted to hear about all the places he visited while I was stuck in our boring hometown. In actuality, I managed an impressively over dramatic eye roll each time I found another card in my mailbox. Unlike Jisung’s meaningful letters, Changbin decided to only think about himself, as per usual, and it was already difficult knowing that we now shared a tentative friendship.

As for myself, in addition to the thrill of Changbin and Jisung’s mailings, I tried my best to enjoy my summer vacation. For example, I often joined Felix, Minho, and Hyunjin at the park to play basketball, even if it was devastatingly sad to explain basic fundamentals every time we tried to play 2 on 2. I also took the initiative of studying relentlessly for my PSATs, knowing I would be grateful for the advantage later on when I was actually forced to take the dreaded examination just for a shot at a decent University. Finally, and perhaps most significantly, I started learning how to drive from my father. Unfortunately, I was proving to be a pretty lousy motorist, often forgetting to even put the car in drive before my eager foot pressed down on the gas pedal.

In conclusion, it was a lousy summer and I was more than ready for school to start back again, even if that meant dealing with Seo Changbin for another year.

“Jisung!”

I watched with barely contained excitement as Jisung finally located me sitting at the bar of the restaurant he recommended. A wide smile broke out across his face, eyes lighting with mischief as he joined me on the narrow bar stool next to my own. “I didn’t know it would be this crowded,” Jisung said, studying the masses of students occupying the surrounding booths and tables.

“School starts back soon,” I said with a shrug.

“I kind of like it,” Jisung said, leaning in closer. “How was your summer?”

“Boring,” I groaned, dragging my water closer. “I’m supposed to take Driver’s Ed soon and I’m already convinced of tragic failure.”

“Tragic?” Jisung chuckled, sandy-colored bangs falling into his eyes. “Have you been practicing?”

“Almost every day,” I lamented.

“Maybe I could help you?” Jisung suggested. “I think it’s about time you chauffeur me around instead.”

I glared at him playfully. “Is that so?”

“Look, Kayda,” Jisung grinned, “it’s not so hard once you get the hang of it, and I happen to make an excellent teacher.”

“You don’t understand what you’re dealing with,” I groaned, wincing as I remembered my father’s furious expression after running into the trash bins situated at the edge of the street for pickup.

“We can start this weekend,” Jisung suggested.

I studied him carefully, trying to figure out if he was being serious. “Are you sure?”

“Why not?” Jisung shrugged. “I had a pretty boring summer too.”

“Your letters didn’t mention that,” I joked, unconsciously moving in closer to him, our shoulders briefly brushing together.

“There wasn’t anyone to talk to,” he said. “I didn’t like the other kids in my cabin. They were obviously not interested in camp formalities.”

“Camp formalities?”

“And decorum!” Jisung shouted, ignoring the way some of our classmates glared at his outburst. “I’ve never seen such blatant disregard for the rules.”

“What? Did they stay up after curfew?”

“Well, I did that too,” Jisung said, earning him an eye roll in return. “I’m talking about the fucking.”

I nearly choked on my water, gaping at Jisung with wide eyes. “Are you serious?”

“It’s an old cliche,” Jisung went on as if he wasn’t openly discussing such a taboo activity in the middle of a public restaurant. “Camps always make teenagers extra horny.”

“And were you participating?” I dared to ask him, surprised by the little flare of jealousy that briefly ruined my previous smile.

“I made good use of my hand,” Jisung said, grinning brightly while I blushed in response, finding words incapable of describing the unusual embarrassment of hearing him talk that way.

“What’s wrong?” Jisung continued because he definitely knew that his comment had left me flustered. “Are you alright?”

I waved him off, finishing off the entirety of my water as I tried to flush out the brilliant red undoubtedly coloring my cheeks. “It’s fine.”

“Ugh,” Jisung grimaced, attention refocusing on something behind me. “Your stupid boyfriend is here.”

“He’s not my-” I trailed off as soon as I realized that Jisung was talking about Changbin, having been relentlessly teasing me about his sudden interest since the basketball ordeal in the park. He was obviously looking for a rise which I refused to give him as I turned around to make eye contact with my life’s biggest nuisance.

“Reynolds!” Changbin loudly announced, commanding the attention of the entire restaurant.

“He knows how to make an entrance,” Jisung grumbled, appearing unusually downtrodden as we both waited for Changbin to approach, Felix and Minho hanging behind.

Changbin sat down next to me, immediately relaxing an arm casually against the back of my chair. I glared at the intruding limb, but Changbin didn’t take notice, far too busy signaling for our busy waitress as if his needs were more important than the rest of the restaurant’s patrons. “Did you order yet, Reynolds?” Changbin asked, eyes scanning the menu as he started listing off his demands to the poor waitress scrambling to write everything down.

“I ate before I came here,” I said, meeting Jisung’s gaze entreatingly as if he could possibly do anything to stop Changbin.

“You like fries, right?” Changbin asked, looking up at the waitress. “Did you get that?”

The waitress patiently nodded her head, bowing slightly when Changbin dismissed her. “Did you get my postcards, Reynolds?” Changbin asked, waving off his friends after they extended an invitation to join them at an open table.

“I got them,” I offered shortly, sighing as I realized that Changbin’s return, more so than Jisung’s, certainly meant that our cherished summer vacation was truly over.

Changbin smirked. “Were you impressed, Reynolds? We went to 9 different cities in Europe.”

“Congratulations,” I muttered, frowning when Changbin ignored my sarcastic comment in exchange for the soda the waitress had brought for him. I quickly turned to Jisung. “You can get us out of here right?”

Jisung pursed his lips, bouncing his fingers against his chin in faux consideration. “I don’t know, Kayda, it’s kinda funny to see you like this.”

I glared at him, inwardly groaning when Changbin tapped on my arm, a silent demand for my attention. “I didn’t know you were here, Han,” Changbin said, scoffing slightly at the older boy.

“I’ve been here the whole time.”

Changbin narrowed his eyes. “I heard you were gone this summer too.”

“My dad forced me to go to a summer camp,” Jisung said, seemingly unbothered by Changbin’s obvious hostility.

Changbin moved in closer to me, nodding his head at our waitress when she dropped off an order of fries. “Here, Reynolds,” Changbin said, tone much lighter as he pushed them in my direction.

I rolled my eyes at him, but Changbin didn’t seem to notice. Jisung grinned, but the smile was far less authentic than usual. “When do you want to start your driving lessons, Kayda?”

“Driving?” Changbin turned to me instantly. “You asked Jisung to teach you?... I could’ve done it.”

It was almost laughable to see Changbin’s pouty expression, snatching a fry from my tray. “Jisung already has his license,” I pointed out.

“I get mine soon!” Changbin retorted.

“She’ll learn better from me,” Jisung said, already in the process of pulling out his wallet. “I have to help my mom this afternoon. I’ll see you at school, Kayda.”

I tried not to protest, offering Jisung a delicate wave as I watched him the entire time he left the dinner, pushing his way through the lingering crowd of students. “What’s his problem?” Changbin snorted, crossing his arms over his chest in a defensive manner.

“How did you know I was here?” I asked Changbin, ignoring his question.

“I didn’t,” Changbin said, smile slowly returning. “But I’m glad I saw you, Reynolds.”

Despite his attitude and clear dismissal of Jisung, I couldn’t help the way my heart fluttered at his earnest declaration.

September

It was almost comical, slowly watching Jisung’s enthusiasm fade away the longer he attempted to coax me down the street in his beat-up Ford. Of course, Jisung had every right to be frustrated, especially considering how long his impromptu lesson had been progressing. At this point in time, I was deemed a lost cause and I was thoroughly embarrassed by my ineptitude.

“You don’t have to press the gas so hard,” Jisung gasped, clutching tightly to the safety bar above his head.

“Sorry,” I murmured quietly, ashamed that I couldn’t understand something so simple.

Jisung cleared his throat. “You did warn me.”

I sighed, bouncing my forehead against the steering wheel. “I don’t know why it’s hard for me.”

“Everyone learns at their own pace,” Jisung tried to reassure me, but his words had little effect on my failing confidence.

“It’s okay,” I said. “We can stop for the day.”

“Kayda,” Jisung tried again, reaching for me across the console, but I brushed his hand away, unfastening my seatbelt before grabbing the door handle. “You did fine!” Jisung insisted as he hurried to catch up to me.

“I might as well ask my neighbor if she’ll keep driving us,” I said, pausing outside the door to my house. “I’m sorry about today. It wasn’t that fun.”

“I had a blast,” Jisung said, whining when I slapped his arm.

“You don’t need to lie.”

“Seriously, Kayda,” Jisung said, shuffling forward with slight trepidation. “I like hanging out with you.”

“Even if I tried to kill us?”

“We were never in danger,” Jisung scoffed, playfully moving in to ruffle my hair.

“Hey!” I protested.

“Keep practicing,” Jisung said. “Promise me you won’t give up.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I huffed impatiently.

“Kayda...”

“Fine,” I relented. “But it’s your fault when I crash.”

The following day at school, I walked into my first-period class while mindlessly adjusting the buttons on my coat sleeve. My thoughts were occupied, which probably explained why I was so caught off-guard when I first heard his voice. I startled in the doorway, eyes growing wide when I realized Changbin was sitting at my usual table at the back of the room, a smirk pasted on his lips.

I clutched tightly to the shoulder straps of my bag, watching Changbin pull out the chair next to him, a clear invitation. I rolled my eyes but unwittingly started for the back of the room, ignoring the expressions of shock and confusion on my classmates’ faces. “You could make a bigger scene next time,” I grumbled, tossing my bag into the floor as I slouched down next to Changbin.

“You’re not more excited to see me, Reynolds?” Changbin smirked. “I transferred into this class just for you.”

“Great,” I droned sarcastically, impatiently urging the clock to move faster.

“Seems pretty boring,” Changbin remarked, fingering the edges of his brand new textbook, a stark contradiction to my well-used offering.

“I need it for my academic cluster,” I said, trying to ignore the way his arm fell across the back of my chair.

“Basketball workouts start soon,” Changbin reminded me as if I could have possibly forgotten.

“I know.”

“And as friends...” Changbin trailed off, raising one questioning brow, “some of my teammates and I spend time practicing at the park on the weekends.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“You should join us, Reynolds.”

I eyed Changbin cautiously. “Why?”

“Because,” he enunciated, gazing at me entreatingly, “we’re friends, right?”

“So you say,” I muttered, tersely bouncing my leg under the table, anxious for our teacher to arrive and end this mundane conversation.

“Saturday afternoon,” Changbin said, nodding in satisfaction. “I can pick you up around noon?”

“I don’t remember agreeing to this.”

“Well, consider it an open invitation.”

“That I decline.”

“Reynolds,” Changbin whined, “Felix will be there.”

“I didn’t know Felix was on the basketball team,” I said, growing more and more self-conscious of the way his fingers would occasionally graze against my spine.

“It’s more of friendly competition.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine, but peer pressure isn’t cool.”

“You’ll love it, Reynolds.”

I sighed because his reassurances weren’t inciting the excitement he was probably hoping for.

Message from Seo Changbin:

I’m outside, Reynolds.

“Mom, I’ll be back before dinner,” I called out into the kitchen on the way out the door.

As promised, Changbin was waiting in his car. “Reynolds,” he greeted me when I was situated inside. “You should start answering my messages.”

“Yeah,” I scoffed, fastening my seatbelt. “Let me put that on the list.”

Changbin grinned, leaning back in his leather seat as he turned on the radio. Both windows were rolled down, allowing fresh air to circulate through the car. It was still hot, but the breeze helped counter the sweat starting to perspire on my skin, even if it was a bad combination with his expense seats.

“No AC?” I muttered.

“Nature isn’t enough for you?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I grumbled, frowning at the way he laughed at the expense of my comfort. Thankfully, the drive wasn’t very long and we finally pulled into the parking lot a mere fifteen minutes later.

“You ready, Reynolds?” Changbin teased, choosing to ignore my glare as he started up the well-worn path to the courts where everyone else was already waiting. I hesitantly followed his footsteps, only allowing a reluctant smile when I saw Felix and Hyujin talking together with two unfamiliar faces. “This way,” Changbin suddenly directed, pulling me towards the group of boys with a surprisingly powerful grip. “This is Seungmin,” Changbin said, patting the boy in question roughly on the back. “And Jeongin.”

“Hi,” Jeongin offered, an adorable smile permanently in place as he politely welcomed me.

“They’re both Freshmen,” Felix explained. “They’re trying out for the team this year.”

“Oh,” I nodded quickly. “Good luck, then.”

“They don’t need it,” Changbin scoffed, teasingly ruffling Jeongin’s hair to which the younger boy protested half-heartedly.

“Let’s pick teams,” Felix said, nodding at Changbin. “You can go first.”

Changbin took a step back, calling out for the other players. I lingered close to Felix, weary of the other boys joining our group, especially when it became clear that I was the only girl invited to play. Changbin rubbed his hands together, making a show of perusing his options. I rolled my eyes since it was obvious he would pick one of the older and more experienced boys. Yet, despite my absolute certainty, Changbin proved me wrong once again when his eyes landed on me. “Come on, Reynolds.”

I did my best to avoid looking completely stupefied while I ordered my feet to start working, falling behind Changbin while he and Felix continued rounding out their respective teams. “Again?” Hyunjin whined when he and Minho were the only two players left.

“I pick Minho,” Changbin said, smirking at the furious look Hyunjin wore as he stormed over to Felix’s side. “Let’s play!”

The sun was starting to set by the time everyone agreed to end the last game. I breathed out heavily, hands behind my hand as I tried to pull in more oxygen for my suffering lungs. It was difficult work keeping up with nine competitive teenage boys, but I was proud of my efforts, especially when it seemed like I was holding my own surprisingly well. “Not bad, Reynolds,” Changbin remarked after our team secured our first win courtesy of my well-timed jump shot.

“I’m surprised you passed it to me,” I admitted because, quite frankly, Changbin seemed to go out of his way to include me in every play.

“You’re better than you give yourself credit for,” he said, winking at me playfully before lining up at the half-court line to start the next game. By the end of our session, my team had won 3 out of the 4 games we managed to play under the remaining sunlight. And I’m half-way convinced that Changbin missed the final three on purpose just to allow Felix’s team one victory, even if it meant listening to Hyunjin brag about their superior endurance.

“How considerate,” I remarked to Changbin after the play.

He threw an arm around my shoulders to which I wrinkled my nose and complained about the proximity. “I’m a nice guy,” Changbin said and I despised the way I leaned in closer, an unconscious movement. “Ready to go home?” I managed a nod, ignoring the way he laughed at my speechlessness.

I trailed behind Changbin as we walked to his car, pausing at the trunk to throw in our gym bags. And my eyes widened in surprise when Changbin reached down for the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it over his head before tucking the drenched fabric into the waistband of his gym shorts. “What?” Changbin questioned, frowning at the obvious way my mouth gaped open.

“Nothing,” I said quickly, looking away despite how difficult it was proving to be with Changbin growing even closer.

“Good game, Reynolds,” Changbin said, and I did my best to avoid looking at his bare chest.

“R-right,” I stuttered, blinking rapidly. “It was fun.”

Changbin’s resounding laughter was surprisingly endearing, eyes following me the entire time I entered his car.

October

Autumn was approaching which meant the days were growing shorter while a frigid cold was starting to settle, leaves falling in delicate shades of red and orange. The change in season was always expected, and I appreciated the break from the unforgiving summer months, the sun bearing down as I was often forced to retreat inside for fear of an unpleasant sunburn. But the weather wasn’t the only thing changing recently, and I knew something was wrong with Jisung, but he refused to tell me anything. “Everything’s fine,” he often reassured me, but the sentiment didn’t quite reach his eyes and his smile was forced as he talked to our other classmates.

I wanted him to trust me more, to willingly tell me whatever it was that was weighing heavily on his heart. And I did my best to find the answers, meeting him in the afternoons after school, hoping to show him that I was a reliable confidant. Yet, each subsequent day flew by with no promise of the conversation I desperately wanted.

And this afternoon, in particular, was proving to be no different.

“I’m a better choice than your neighbor, right?” Jisung asked as he drove us to my house.

I nodded as an acknowledgement, too tired to offer a coherent reply, a result of morning basketball workouts that drained my energy right along with regular classes. These days, Jisung had started taking me home from school as opposed to my neighbor. I was glad for the change, especially since it meant I could spend some time with Jisung.

“Tired?” he asked and I offered a delicate yawn.

“Basketball is tiring,” I said, pulling myself away from the window to look at Jisung. “You seem tired too.”

“There’s a lot going on,” Jisung offered vaguely and I pursed my lips as I considered his vague response.

We were both quiet for the remainder of the drive, and Jisung pulled into my driveway with a loud sigh. “Let’s stay outside.”

“Okay,” I agreed, watching him carefully now because I could always tell when someone was feeling burdened by an unpleasant truth. Nonetheless, I took Jisung to the backyard where I stole some blankets from the basement and spread them out along the grass. Jisung sat down on top of the worn fabric, fingering the holes at the edges before reaching out to pluck a sunflower free from its stem. “You don’t seem as happy these days,” I remarked, studying the way Jisung’s fingers brushed across the delicate petals of the flower he held.

“What makes you say that?” he asked, face shadowed by the way the sun hits the side of his profile.

“Nothing,” I said softly. “Do you want to do some work?”

“Will you help me with my essay?”

“Only if you promise me a massage because my shoulders are dying.”

“Deal,” Jisung agreed, managing a smile while he reached for his bag. Together, we worked diligently in the backyard as we attempted to conquer our matching piles of homework. Basketball was a recurring distraction, often forcing me to stay up late at night to complete assignments since I lost time during the day to work on essays about dead poets.

“You’re not as talkative,” I said, choosing my words carefully.

“It’s my mom,” Jisung said and I was surprised by his willing openness.

“And?”

Jisung picked another sunflower, holding it up to his eyes as he twirled the delicate stem between his elegant fingers. “She’s dying.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that and a painful silence fell between us.

November

Basketball tryouts were proving to be a substantial blow to my meager social life. I could barely find time to talk to Jisung, and I never forced him to wait for me in the afternoons anymore because tryouts could continue for hours. In the meantime, Changbin was more than willing to drive me home, especially since he liked to flaunt his shiny new license around school for everyone to notice.

But I missed my drives with Jisung, and I missed the way he always seemed to make the days a little less stressful. I wanted to talk to him, and I knew my best opportunity would be this coming Friday because tryouts would end early and I could ask him to wait for me in the parking lot without feeling guilty. Of course, telling Changbin about my change in transportation was a dramatic affair. “Why not, Reynolds?” Changbin pouted, blocking me at my locker after our shared morning class despite my attempts to evade him.

“I have something else to do,” I said, wishing he could be more amiable for once and just let it go.

Graciously, the bell for classes proved to be a wonderful distraction and Changbin reluctantly allowed me to flee quietly to my Chemistry class without any more protest. For the remainder of the day, I could only focus on the clock, urging the stubborn minute hand to move faster. All I had to do was finish out tryouts successfully and I could finally have some time with Jisung.

The afternoon bell rang loudly in my ears as I hurried to the locker room, changing into my practice clothes quickly. Of course, such rapid preparation wasn’t entirely necessary since I still had to make it through the last day of tryouts, but my mind was somewhere else. Even so, my impending meeting with Jisung didn’t inhibit me from doing my absolute best, breathing out heavily as I scrimmaged with my teammates, ignoring the watchful eyes of my coach as she studied our plays.

By the end of practice, I was more than ready for the stress of tryouts to be over with because I was exhausted both mentally and physically. Thoughts of Jisung didn’t help, which had returned full force now that my attention wasn’t occupied by basketball. Instead, I impatiently tapped my foot against the court as I waited for coach to announce final cuts.

“Okay,” coach said, carefully posting the team roster to the board outside her office. “For those of you who made it, I’ll see you Monday afternoon.”

Normally, I was never one to rush to the front to see my name, but Jisung was waiting which meant my sharp elbows were now a weapon to help me fight to the roster. I breathed a silent sigh of relief when I found my name near the top, quickly shoving my way back through the crowd of my potential teammates.

I practically sprinted to the parking lot, ignoring the ache in my thighs courtesy of detestable shooting drills. But I smiled through the pain when I saw Jisung already inside his car, eyes watching me carefully as I ran the rest of the way to where he was parked. “I’m guessing you made the team,” Jisung teased after I was settled inside.

“Oh, yeah...” I trailed off, finding myself unable to tell Jisung the real reason behind my enthusiasm.

Jisung smirked, switching on the ignition before carefully navigating us onto the main road. “You said you wanted to talk?”

I nodded, taking a deep breath to settle my nerves. “I wanted to apologize.”

“Apologize?”

“For my reaction when you told me about your mom,” I said, shaking my head. “I didn’t really know what to say.”

“It’s okay,” Jisung said gently. “Most people don’t.”

“Is she okay right now?” I asked cautiously, keeping Jisung’s profile in my peripheral vision.

“You can come home with me,” Jisung suggested, eyes still trained forward. “To see my mom.”

I nodded without an ounce of hesitation. “Okay.”

I had never been to Jisung’s house before so my eyes were wide as I took in the simple one-story building, walking up the front porch steps to wait as Jisung wrestled his key in the lock. “She’s probably in her room,” Jisung told me, quietly leading me through the small living room and down a narrow hallway.

A door at the end was slightly ajar, and Jisung ushered me closer as he allowed me to walk inside first. “Hey, mom,” Jisung said, greeting the frail woman sitting up against a tall mountain of pillows. “Do you need anything?”

The woman shook her head, hollow eyes leaving Jisung to find me standing nervously in the doorway. “Who is this?”

Jisung smiled and encouraged me closer. “This is my friend.”

“What’s your name?” his mother asked, smile brighter than anything I had ever seen before. The only thing comparable would be Jisung himself who always proved to be an endless supply of the purest kind of light.

“Kayda,” I said, uncharacteristically shy.

“You’re beautiful,” she said, urging me closer while glancing over at Jisung who was now busy pouring water at the nightstand. “My son is very lucky.”

My cheeks heated as soon as I understood the implications of her observation. “Oh, I-”

“-Mom,” Jisung quietly interrupted, handing his mother one of the glasses. She accepted it gratefully, offering me a playful wink which only made my smile fall completely.

“I hate Mondays,” one of my new teammates muttered as she lounged on the bleachers with me after the conclusion of a brutal practice session.

“Tell me about,” I said, staring up at the ceiling. After meeting Jisung’s mom, I had returned home with a heavy heart, unable to find the courage to tell her that Jisung and I weren’t anything more than friends.

“Seo Changbin,” my teammate sighed and I instantly turned my head, watching the boy in question enter the gym with his friends. “Aren’t the two of you dating?”

“No,” I muttered out tersely, resuming my observation of the ceiling even though I could feel Changbin’s gaze from across the court.

And it was only a moment or two later when I heard his voice. “Reynolds,” he said, grinning down at me as he climbed the bleachers. My teammate let out a tired sigh, studying the two of us before allowing us the privacy that I didn’t really need. “Is this comfortable?” he asked, taking my teammate’s spot as he spread his 5’6’’ frame across the bleachers.

“It’s fine,” I said dismissively.

“I saw you guys practicing earlier,” Changbin said, never one to take a hint even if it was waiting right in front of him.

“Did you?”

“You looked good out there, Reynolds,” Changbin said, reaching up to tap his fingers on my thigh. “You’re faster than everyone else.”

“Gee, thanks,” I muttered, wondering if it would be too obvious if I sat up to leave...But that might be too abrupt.

“Are you sticking around for our practice?” he asked with a hopeful tone.

“I’m going home with my neighbor,” I said.

“You should stay one time,” Changbin continued. “I learned a lot about basketball just by watching games on TV with my dad.”

I frowned because I did the same thing. “Aren’t you supposed to be with your teammates?”

“Not yet,” Changbin said. “This is my special way of building anticipation.”

“Isn’t that too arrogant?”

“It’s called confidence,” Changbin said instead. “You’ll be leading your team too, especially if you keep improving.”

His comment was surprisingly touching. “Is this what you tell all your friends?”

“Just the ones who deserve it,” Changbin said earnestly, allowing a relaxed sigh. “You know, Reynolds,” Changbin grinned. “I think you’re the best player on the Varsity team.”

His words were unexpected and I was caught off-guard by my own smile. “Why is that?”

“There doesn’t need to be a reason,” Changbin said. “I’ve watched you play before.”

“Is that so?”

“Of course,” Changbin said, turning his head slightly to meet my gaze. “But

I think that some of your teammates are jealous.”

“I know they are.”

“If they give you any problems, you let me know,” he said, holding up his pinky for me which I allowed to wrap around my own, sealing his promise.

December

I found Jisung lingering outside my first-period classroom, arms folded over his chest as he leaned against the doorway. It was obvious that he was waiting for me, so I carefully made my way through the crowded hallways to anticipate his forthcoming dialogue. “Kayda,” he smirked, nodding his head in my direction. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“My neighbor was late this morning,” I said. “Something about an argument with her sister.”

“You won’t have to worry about that when you get your own license,” Jisung said, managing a ghost of his alluring smile.

“I know,” I grumbled because my driving ineptitude was still a sore spot of conversation. “Did you need to talk?”

“I have something to ask you,” he agreed, demeanor shifting as he suddenly appeared a lot less eager than before. Uncertain. “It’s a lot to ask of you.”

I squinted my eyes, suddenly curious. “Well?”

“My mom has a lot of family in the mountains,” he said, eyes searching mine slowly. “But it’s been kinda hard this year to get together, especially since my mom’s diagnosis.”

“I’m sorry,” I murmured softly, to which he attempted to shrug indifferently, even if the emotion was evident in his expression. “We usually visit around Christmas.”

“You can’t go this year?” I guessed, trying to empathize with Jisung’s circumstances.

“That’s not it,” Jisung said, gazing at me entreatingly. “I want you to come with us.”

I paused at the request, trying to understand the implications. “Why?”

“You make things easier,” Jisung said and I softened immediately at his words.

“I’ll ask my parents,” I told him, suddenly feeling an intense desire to satisfy his request. “I’m sure they won’t mind.”

“Thank you, Kayda,” Jisung smiled and it was the type of all-encompassing sunshine that always managed to warm my heart.

Basketball practice was excruciatingly difficult that afternoon. Our coach was preparing for this weekend’s basketball tournament, an annual precursor to winter vacation that both students and players alike looked forward to with anticipation. Our school was always expected to perform at the highest level of athleticism, frequently moving through the tournament bracket to the final round of scheduled play. It was a cherished tradition that always managed to fuel my coach’s desire to include as many sprints in a single session as one could manage before players were forced to rush to the bathroom to lose whatever food was still in their stomachs.

“Nice job, ladies,” she nodded at the end of our time. “I want everyone at the gym early on Saturday.”

A dozen or so nods of agreement before we were officially dismissed. Which meant the boy’s team immediately started for their turn at the court, leaving a few of my fellow players flushed with nervous giggles. It also meant the arrival of Seo Changbin who never missed an opportunity to grace me with his presence. “Reynolds,” he said, panting a little from his brisk jog over. He had learned that I tried to leave practice early, stuffing my belongings into my gym bag in the hopes of escaping before he had a chance to utter a single consonant of my last name. “I’ve been trying to find you all day.”

“It can’t be that difficult,” I huffed. “You memorized my schedule.”

“But this is important,” he said while hurriedly shuffling through the small binder in his hands, finding the appropriate form. “I’m doing a co-ed basketball camp over break,” Changbin said, forcefully shoving the paper at me. “You could always come too, Reynolds.”

I smoothed out the crinkled sheet, reading across the invitation. “Where did you find this?”

“Coach showed it to me,” Changbin said. “But I thought of you.”

“How considerate,” I snickered before quickly remembering my promise to Jisung. “I don’t think I’ll be able to go.”

“Oh,” Changbin responded, face falling as he rocked back and forth in front of me. “That’s okay, Reynolds. I guess I’ll see you after break instead.”

I watched him carefully because I didn’t like the way my heart broke a little at his simple acquiescence.

Jisung came to pick me up early at my house on the morning of our scheduled trip to the mountains. My entire body was still sore, muscles screaming in agonizing protest as I forced myself to grab my bags and trudge down the hallway. My mom greeted me in the kitchen, handing me a couple of Ibuprofen which I gratefully accepted.

I couldn’t remember the last time I had been in so much pain. And I didn’t know if it was entirely due to the demanding tournament in which my team had finished runner-up or the fact that Jisung was taking me to see his family like we were something more than friends. I mean, doesn’t it qualify as relationship-status when the attractive guy who frequently treated you to frozen milkshakes takes you home with him?

“You look nervous,” Jisung remarked, appearing entirely at ease behind the wheel of his car.

“Maybe a little,” I said in return, refusing to offer more details.

“Why?” Jisung asked. “It’s just my family, Kayda. I promise we aren’t ruthless drug lords or something.”

“I’d hate to understand how your mind works,” I said, gazing out the window because the land had transformed around us, smooth plains turning into rising hills- a series of dips like a roller coaster.

“You should know by now,” Jisung said, smirking. “I’m kinda weird.”

I scoffed at the comment. “I think your problem is the missing filter between your mouth and brain. Do you ever think about what you’re going to say?”

“No,” Jisung shrugged. “But sometimes you don’t either.”

“Really?” I immediately questioned. “This coming from the guy who swore that he saw a shark swim upstream in a freshwater river coming home from his last excursion to New York’s Comic-Con.”

“Point taken.”

Message From Seo Changbin:

You know they make this thing called FaceTime, right? Anytime you want to see my pretty face, you know what to do.

Jisung’s family cabin was modest, but that didn’t take away from the beauty surrounding the two-story structure. The woods were gorgeous with the faint remnants of snow blanketing the ground, melting into cool rivulets that flowed steadily between makeshift canals. The sun filtered through the trees to throw an interesting contradiction of light and shadow over the empty foliage.

“Well?” Jisung prodded, pulling me closer by my shoulder. His coat brushed against mine, rustling the fabric between us.

“It’s nice,” I said, studying the picturesque-sight while Jisung led me to the front porch, stomping his boots off on the crusty welcome mat faded and worn from years of use.

I swallowed hard when the door opened and an elderly woman stepped outside, letting out an impossible shriek as she went to collect Jisung’s puffy cheeks between wrinkled hands. “Jisungie! So handsome.”

“This is my aunt,” Jisung said, cautiously pulling back from the hands holding him hostage. “Merida, this is my friend, Kayda.”

“Hello,” I said, holding out a hand in greeting which apparently catalyzed an even stronger reaction from the woman whose arms constricted around my middle without so much as a warning.

Jisung was visibly embarrassed as he offered me an apologetic look. Meanwhile, I struggled to figure out what I needed to do with my hands as Merida commented on how long my hair was. “I used to have long hair,” she said, finally releasing me. “Yours is so beautiful!”

“Oh, thank you,” I managed, wincing when she let out another squeak, grabbing my hand because she desperately needed to introduce me. “Everyone! Come meet, Kayda!”

I struggled to locate Jisung while I was moved from person to person, matching names to the faces of various aunts and uncles, grandparents and grandchildren, and those rather annoying cousins who promised me that they were a lot better than Jisung. I frowned at their blatant rudeness but chose not to comment because I didn’t want to say more than necessary. Because this was Jisung’s family and, whatever our relationship now meant between us, I didn’t want to leave a poor impression.

Jisung’s mother found me last, situated in an upright position on a bed in one of the upstairs rooms. “Kayda,” she murmured softly, grabbing my hands between hers and ushering me onto the bed. “How was your trip? Do you like the cabin?”

“It’s lovely,” I told her, glancing up at the sound of a creaking board, relieved to see Jisung standing there watching the two of us.

“We’re not old fashioned you know,” his mother continued, a conspiratorial smile on her face. “We can let you two share a room.”

“Mom,” Jisung whined, saving me from any further surprises by graciously excusing the two of us. “Sorry,” he whispered to me in the hallway. “They’re just really excited.”

“It’s okay,” I said, even though I did feel a little irritated that Jisung hadn’t bothered to prepare me more.

“We don’t have to share a bed or anything,” Jisung said. “I can sleep on the air mattress.”

“Thank you,” I said, glancing back at the closed door. “Do you want to see her alone?”

Jisung nodded. “You can stay in our room for now.”

I waited until Jisung had closed the door behind him before mustering up enough courage to ask one of his rude cousins to show me where I was staying.

Message to Han Jisung

Where are you?

Message from Han Jisung

Outside.

The leaves crunched loudly beneath my feet as I walked across the front lawn, searching for Jisung. His response to my message had been vague as if he really didn’t want to be found, but that only worried me for his well-being. The sun was setting low against the backdrop of the mountain peaks, breaking the rays of light in dramatic patterns. I inhaled the crisp, cold air with a satisfied sigh, stuffing my hands in my pockets to prevent my fingertips from growing numb. In actuality, I quite liked it up here, admiring the simplicity of the natural splendor. Maybe I could move to the mountains one day in the future, living in a cabin like Jisung’s because it was quite nice compared to the city.

I paused at the edge of a trail, squinting against the dying light. Even if my eyes were not made to accommodate easy viewing at night, I could still make out Jisung sitting at a wooden picnic table alone. I glanced back at the cabin, noting the light on over the porch before walking down the path, careful to mind the jutting rocks and arched roots rising from the ground.

“Jisung?”

His voice was hoarse, tears still discernible even if everything else was losing focus. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have a reason to be.”

I climbed onto the bench next to him, leaving very little space between our bodies. Jisung sniffled as he leaned in closer to me, watching the sunset against the backdrop of the skeleton trees.

“Is it your mom?”

“Yeah.”

I nodded because there wasn’t anything left to say.

Message from Seo Changbin:

We can still have conversations over break, you know?

Jisung and I eventually made our way back inside the cabin once the sun was completely gone, leaving the half-moon at its post. “You’re so cold,” Jisung said, curling his fingers through mine.

My limbs were stiff, joints aching as I followed Jisung back up the trail, drawn to the light of the cabin like a delicate moth. “Are you okay?” I asked, the question lingering between us while Jisung opened the door.

“I will be,” he whispered in return.

“I’m always here,” I told him, anxiously worried that Jisung might break down at any moment, and I didn’t think I could handle that. Because Jisung was sunshine, and I was the desperate tree growing at all sorts of angles just to feel his light.

Our room was relatively small and Jisung’s cousins had taken the air mattress earlier despite my condemnation. “We can share the bed,” I said, tone uncertain as I pulled back the sheets.

“Yeah?” Jisung said, watching me as I threw off my coat before making myself comfortable on the bed.

“Come on,” I ushered him, holding up the sheet and allowing Jisung to lie down next to me.

“Thank you, Kayda,” Jisung said, nose brushing mine from our close proximity. “You’ve done a lot for me.”

“Well, you had to suffer through my bad driving.”

Jisung chuckled and I savored the sound, the deep rumbling from his chest which was crowded against my hands. “You mean a lot to me.”

I froze next to him, eyes trying to make out his features in the dark room. But Jisung remained a mystery, an imperceivable canvas which was growing closer with every thunderous beat of my heart. His breath was warm, short pants from his mouth which cooled against mine. Jisung’s lips were incredibly soft, a stark contrast to the unwavering grip his fingers kept as they dug into my jaw to direct my movements. I trembled at the first touch, the smooth caress of his tongue against my bottom lip, a sensual question which I answered by parting my lips for him, allowing him access to the deepest parts of me that only his rays could touch. My eyes fluttered open, able to make out his own now that we were in such intimate proximity. Jisung’s gaze was filled with adoration and I could so easily lose myself in an earnest gaze, but that was impossible to do when all I could think about was Changbin.

January

Message from Seo Changbin:

You ignored me over break, Reynolds. Can you at least spare some time at school?

January was one of those impossible months to predict because it was either even colder than December or manageably warm which was still problematic since Climate Change was an ever-present threat. I woke up that morning and checked the temperate, deeming it to be somewhere in between those extremes. I had arrived home sometime over the weekend which meant my bags were still unpacked and I had no idea where my new gloves had disappeared.

I was running late for class when I finally arrived at school thanks to my mother who had the day off. I stopped by my locker to briefly exchange textbooks, erroneously almost leaving my homework stuffed into the bottom of my three-ring binder. “Reynolds.”

I groaned when I heard the familiar husk to his voice. “I’m late.”

“Is your phone not working?”

“It’s fine.”

“Well,” Changbin said, “if you had answered, then I wouldn’t need to here.”

“You still don’t need to be here.”

“How was your break?” Changbin asked, refusing to acknowledge my comment while standing against the lockers next to mine.

“Cold,” I said, refusing to even acknowledge the issue of Han Jisung and the kiss we shared in his tiny cabin bedroom.

Changbin sighed wistfully. “I told you, Reynolds, you would have had a better time with me.”

I chose to scoff at his comment. “How would you know?”

“I’m insulted, Reynolds,” Changbin said, fanning his fingers out against his broad chest. “You would’ve loved the camp. The arena is really nice at Christmas.”

“Just as friends,” I said, watching Changbin from the corner of my eye. “You’re making this sound romantic, Changbin, considering the fact that we’re only friends.”

Changbin’s eyes dropped from mine. “I know that, Reynolds. You like to remind me every day.”

I slammed my locker closed, feeling something akin to guilt. “Sorry.”

“Did something happen, Reynolds?” he asked, peering up at me cautiously like he knew he was overstepping our boundaries.

“Nothing happened,” I said quickly, stepping around him because I suddenly really needed to go to class and Changbin was crowding me.

Avoiding Jisung was becoming something of a habit, peeking cautiously around corners, staggering into class at the last minute in case he might be waiting in the doorway. And I know it was terrible to ignore Jisung, but I still had no idea how I could possibly talk to him after the kiss. Coincidentally, it only drove me closer to Changbin who was perfectly willing to drive me home after school or invite me out on the weekends. I quickly came to the conclusion that I was using Changbin to fill the places in my life that Jisung had previously occupied, not that Changbin minded in the slightest.

“Your house?” I questioned into the phone, my hand pausing over the popcorn bowl waiting between my legs. Recently, I had started to accept his incoming phone calls and even dial his number a time or two because Changbin was actually quite useful when it came to Algebraic Equations.

“Why not?” Changbin returned. “I have a lot of cool games we could try.”

It sounded like it meant a lot more to him, but I didn’t bother looking past the surface. “Will there be food?”

“Is that a yes, Reynolds?”

“Changbin.”

“Whatever you want, Reynolds.”

“Are you picking me up?”

“Give me ten minutes.”

Changbin’s house was fresh out of the Notebook, an old-school antebellum mansion that probably cost more than the entire town. And because it was Changbin’s house, I got to hear a thorough backstory concerning its history, meaning Changbin’s great-great-grandfather or whatever had likely never anticipated someone like me stepping across the marble-tiled floors. “What do you think, Reynolds?” Changbin asked, looking at me like my answer might change his entire life which was ridiculous because Changbin had probably impressed plenty of people.

“I like it,” I said, perhaps making Changbin’s entire year if the impressive smile he wore was anything to go by.

“The game room is upstairs.”

And it took up an entire section of the house, resembling some kind of futuristic arcade where a quarter in the machine meant relaxing in fine luxury chairs while playing an unreleased version of Final Fantasy with an espresso in hand. “Want anything?” Changbin asked from the bar.

“Surprise me,” I said, running my fingers against the side of the air hockey table that was spotlessly clean.

“What do you want to play?” Changbin asked, handing me a glass of water. A simple exchange that nonetheless meant a whole lot more to me than I thought. Suddenly, I was far too excited, surrounded by Changbin’s extravagant wealth.

“Everything.”

February

When Jisung was absent from school for an entire week, I knew something was wrong. Yet, no matter how many messages I directed to his phone, a response notification never lit up my phone screen. Was it partially my fault? Since I had done a remarkable job of avoiding him for an entire month.

“Why do you look so down?” my teammate asked as we lounged together on the bleachers, a regular occurrence.

“Jisung hasn’t been answering any of my messages.”

“I didn’t think you guys were friends anymore.”

“Oh,” I said, clearing my throat. “What made you think that?”

“Haven’t seen you together since Christmas break. Figured you probably came to your senses and started fucking Changbin.”

“I’m not dating Changbin,” I said, but there was a little less venom behind my usual conviction. “Jisung and I weren’t a couple anyway.”

“Well, maybe he has something else on his mind.”

“I guess.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it, even if your little love triangle was super entertaining to watch.”

“There’s no love triangle.”

“Personally, I’m rooting for Changbin to win but a couple girls on the team are thinking that Jisung is the endgame for sure.”

Had my life really become so complicated?

February 14th was a rueful day and I despised the commercial aspect to a holiday that had no real purpose in existing. Nevertheless, I wasn’t entirely negative because starting tomorrow, Walmart’s candy would be on sale and I could buy enough to last me until Easter.

Of course, for a lot of other people, Valentine’s day meant a lot, especially those mushy couples who probably secretly loathed one another and the idea of parting with more than 20 bucks for flowers. Still, I guess there was some merit in showing affection for someone you cared about. Sadly, I didn’t really know what that meant since I never got the experience.

I arrived early to class, a change of pace which meant I was sitting alone at my usual table with Changbin. Perhaps he wouldn’t show up at all, deciding to stay at home simply because of a sudden whim’s notice. And that would be perfectly acceptable to me, but I could never get so lucky.

“Reynolds,” Changbin said, standing behind me at our table and I didn’t have the strength to push him away.

“What?”

“It’s Valentine’s day,” Changbin reminded me, gently depositing a single red rose in front of me.

The gesture was surprising and it elicited a strange reaction because I couldn’t stop myself from touching the smooth petals. “Really?”

“Let’s go for milkshakes after school.”

I smiled because I actually loved the idea and couldn’t believe Changbin wanted something so simplistic. I was half-expecting a giant display of balloons waiting for my outside or a banner draped across the front of the school with my name written in big bold letters. But I got nothing like that and it was incredibly touching. “Okay.”

Jisung came back the next week and I could no longer find it in me to avoid the inevitable. I cornered him after class one afternoon, clutching tightly to the straps of my book bag. “Jisung.”

He turned around with a start, eyes widening in obvious surprise to see me standing there. “Kayda?”

“You were gone last week,” I said, glancing up at him sheepishly. “Is your mom alright?”

Jisung sighed, shoulders falling as his entire body seemed to collapse under the weight of his burden. “We had a scare, but she’s back home now.”

“I’m glad,” I told him sincerely. “Neither of you deserve this.”

“It always happens to the best people,” Jisung said, somewhat bitterly as he closed his locker door.

“I’m sorry for avoiding you,” I said, flushing at the apology. “I didn’t know what to say after what happened before.”

“You mean the kiss?” Jisung guessed, eyeing me curiously. “Did I do something wrong?”

“It was unexpected,” I said. “Since we’re just friends.”

Jisung took a long time to respond and I grew more and more anxious as I waited for his response. “I understand.”

But his tone was cold.

March

Message from Seo Changbin:

Come over, Reynolds.

“You’re heavy,” I complained, pushing against his shoulder as he leaned more of his weight against mine.

Changbin laughed, seemingly amused at my struggles. “I like you though.”

I huffed loudly, allowing him to lay his head in my lap, gazing up at me with mischievous brown eyes. “Do you even want to watch the movie?”

“I’ve seen Fast and Furious,” Changbin said, eyeing the movie from the corner of his eye with disinterest.

“Why did you recommend it, then?”

“Because you wanted to see it,” Changbin said. “But you can watch this in real life, anyway. I can take my car down to the track.”

“Good for you.”

Changbin smirked, tongue-in-cheek as he returned his attention to me. “Learned how to drive yet, Reynolds?”

I frowned. “No.”

“It’s not hard,” Changbin said. “Didn’t Han Jisung teach you?”

His tone was bitter. “He tried.”

“Probably not hard enough,” Changbin said, lifting himself up from my lap. “Do you want me to try?”

“I’m impossible.”

“Well,” Changbin grinned, “I kinda like a challenge.”

Changbin’s car was far too expensive for my inexperienced hands and I was shivering as I started the ignition. “Relax, Reynolds,” Changbin said from the passenger seat, appearing entirely at ease.

“What do I do?” I asked him in a panic, but Changbin merely reached down for the gear shift.

“Put it in drive.”

My fingers were shaking, tightening with a vice grip around the poor instrument. My foot was pressed down hard against the break, mind blanking the longer I questioned myself, especially with Changbin watching me. “I’m sorry,” I said, taking a deep breath as I pulled the gear shift back, letting off the brake to press down on the gas.

The car immediately lurched backward and I panicked, applying even more pressure to the gas pedal before realizing I had put the car into reverse instead of drive. The resounding sound of the mailbox behind me snapping beneath the weight of Changbin’s fancy sports car was impossibly loud. I fought back tears as I apologized repeatedly, managing to put the car back into park as I studied the ruined mailbox in the side view mirror.

“So what, Reynolds?” Changbin shrugged, seemingly unbothered by the destruction.

I looked at him in disbelief. “You can’t seriously be okay with that?”

“It didn’t hurt anybody,” Changbin said. “If you start to worry about everything you do wrong, then it’s even harder.”

I held tightly to the steering wheel. “Should I try again?”

“Why not?” Changbin shrugged. “This is more fun than I was expecting.”

“Driving isn’t supposed to be fun,” I said. “It’s serious.”

“Kayda, you sound like one of those scary-ass educational videos they make us watch in Driver’s Ed.”

“And?”

“Try to enjoy it more,” Changbin said. “You don’t have to be so tense when you’re driving.”

I let out a deep breath, my hand reaching back down for the gear shift. I relaxed a little when I felt Changbin’s hand on top of mine, guiding me through the movements as the car started to roll forward. “Is it too fast?” I asked, failing to keep the panic from my tone.

“You’re doing great, Reynolds,” Changbin said, leaning over to steady his other hand against my splayed out fingers on the wheel. “There’s nothing difficult about it.”

I was trembling now for a different reason, but Changbin didn’t need to know about that.

April

Jisung was ignoring me, which meant I had to ask Changbin to drive me to my scheduled test, anxiously fidgeting in his leather seat during the entire drive. I had no time to worry about Jisung, even though I was deeply hurt by his indifference. Instead, all I could think about was my driving test and how horrible it would be to fail the computer questions because they were probably the easiest part.

“You worry too much, Reynolds,” Changbin remarked, pulling into the parking lot of the DMV.

“I can’t help it,” I told him.

“If I can pass this, then you can,” Changbin said. “You’re way smarter than me.”

“I don’t think it has much to do with intelligence,” I said, rubbing my hands together as I carefully opened his car door.

“Don’t think too hard then,” Changbin grinned, faintly protesting when I reached across the console to smack his arm.

“What’s wrong with you! I’m having a small panic attack.”

“Yeah? Should I take you to the hospital?”

“You’re just asking for it,” I snapped, huffing indignantly when he started laughing. A nasal affair that would normally make me cringe.

“Why?” Changbin asked. “You know what your problem is, Reynolds? You take everything too seriously. Just relax for once.”

“But what if I fail?” I whined miserably.

“Then you take it again,” Changbin said. “I promise I won’t hold it against you forever.”

“I really hate you right now.”

FLASH!

I blinked my eyes, trying to rid my vision of those annoying black spots courtesy of the camera flash. Meanwhile, the obviously indifferent clerk clicked away at his computer screen. “Congratulations,” he said, tone completely void of any life as he handed me a tiny square of plastic.

I couldn’t find it in myself to be annoyed with the DMV employee. After all, I was 90% sure that such an attitude was written in their handbook. But it really didn’t matter because I was holding my permit and it wasn’t some sort of crazy dream I had last night.

“Thank you,” I told him sincerely, even if the sentiment obviously meant nothing to him as he called for the next person in line.

I mustered just enough patience to walk at a normal pace through the musty office building until I was outside, finding Changbin leaning against the side of his sports car, sunglasses covering his eyes. The sight of him, however, broke down every last bit of self-control I had previously tried to maintain. “I passed!” I squealed, holding up my limited learner's permit for his eyes to see, desperately wanting to show him.

Changbin smirked as he took the permit from me. “What did I tell you, Reynolds? It’s not that hard.”

“You helped me so much,” I said, overcome with emotion, looking at him and, for the first time in my life, seeing past the arrogance and wealth, sarcastic comments and designer clothes. “Thank you.”

Changbin nodded, rolling his shoulders back as he took another step closer. “I get an award, right?”

I gave him a questioning look, rolling my eyes when his finger tapped against the side of his cheek. “You can’t be serious.”

“It’s not a big deal, Reynolds,” Changbin whined.

I could always blame it on my mood, optimism bright as I grabbed Changbin’s shoulders to hold myself steady as I pressed my lips to the spot he had indicated. “Happy?”

Changbin didn’t respond, considering me with an expression that held a thousand different possibilities. His fingers were cold as they curled around my neck, thumbs digging into the skin at the base of my jaw. But his lips were warm, tentatively testing mine as he kissed me for the second time, leaving me with nothing but thoughts of Seo Changbin as I tasted spearmint gum when his tongue muscled its way inside.

May

Summer vacation meant classes were more trivial than usual, suffering through mindless lectures that meant nothing now that exams are over. But the school board insisted we stay until June. “Jisung’s ignoring me,” I told Changbin at lunch, locating the boy in question eating alone across the cafeteria.

Perhaps in the past, I’d never openly tell Changbin about any of my worries, but I was comfortable with him now and we understood each other a lot more than we did in the past. And he knew how much Jisung meant to me, although in a much different way than what I shared with Changbin. “Give him time,” he said, one hand on the back of my neck, massaging circles into the skin.

I shifted closer to Changbin, unconsciously seeking his warmth. “He’s going through a hard time alone.”

“He’s got family,” Changbin reminded me, gently pushing my tray closer. “But you need to eat, Reynolds.”

“That’s disgusting,” Felix quipped, turning his nose up at the two of us like he was too cool for such displays.

“Don’t be jealous,” Jeongin said, giggling like he was enjoying teasing Felix.

“Is it official, then?” Minho asked, leaning across the table despite Hyunjin’s attempts to move him out of the way.

“You don’t have to put titles to everything,” I told Minho.

“That’s just a bullshit excuse,” Minho argued, insistent as he eyed the two of us up and down. “Well?”

“We’re together,” Changbin said, hand settling over mine. “Will that satisfy you?”

“Very much,” Minho nodded, sitting back to whip out his phone. “The school’s gossip site needed some more drama.”

“There’s no drama,” I grumbled, glaring at Minho as he hurriedly typed away on his tiny phone keyboard.

“There always is,” Hyunjin said with a dramatic flourish of his hands. “Minho makes sure of it.”

“Stay out of my relationship,” Changbin warned Minho, even if the older boy appeared completely undeterred by Changbin’s threat.

Changbin was unusually quiet after school that day, clutching tightly to my hand as he walked us to his car. “You’re never like this,” I said, rolling my eyes playfully when he opened my door.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Changbin said. “This is how I always act.”

“Sure,” I said, waiting for him to start the car before continuing. “I think you have something to tell me.”

Changbin tensed at my words. “What makes you say that?”

“You’re too easy to read,” I teased him, laughing when he threw me an unimpressed look.

“Do you want some music as a distraction?” I said. “Fill up the awkward silence while you find the confidence to ask me what must be a very difficult question.”

“And you think I’m rude,” Changbin grunted, even as his hand quickly started to mess with the radio display.

I pulled my phone from my pocket, finding Jisung’s contact even if it was a futile affair to get any sort of response from him lately. His texts were few and far in between and he usually only answered if I asked about his mother. But I genuinely cared about his family because Jisung was important to me and I desperately wanted things to resume normally between us. I couldn’t help but think that my new relationship status with Changbin might have a lot to do with his silence.

“Should we just text each other?” I asked Changbin when we pulled up to my house.

He killed the engine without a word. “It’s nothing bad.”

“I figured that,” I said, turning around to face him. “You have my undivided attention.”

Another beat of silence passed between us and then...“I’ll be gone for the summer,” Changbin admitted, glancing up at me nervously. “And it might be too soon to ask this.”

“What do you mean?”

Changbin sighed, running his fingers through his black hair. “You could come with us, Reynolds. If you really wanted to.”

“On your vacation?”

“It’s more like a get-away,” Changbin grinned. “But you can think of it like that.”

I considered him carefully because I knew Changbin was always serious when it came to me. “You’re right, it might be too soon.”

Changbin sighed but didn’t appear too downtrodden. “It’s alright, Reynolds. We’ll go as slow as you want.”

“I’d like that,” I said, allowing him to lean across the middle to kiss me to his heart’s content.

June

Message to Han Jisung:

What happened?

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #seo changbin #seo changbin fanfic #enemies to lovers #han jisung

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us2dinosaurplanet · 3 years

Text

Ultimate Story 2: Dinosaur Planet-Chapter 4: Restoring the Queen Earthwalker

After Peach took off and put away her coat, Tricky heard something that sounded like his mom crying and ran off. When Fox and his friends followed him, they wound up back in the chamber where the queen was locked in. Fox then contacted the rest of the team. Fox: “I’m here, guys. Mission accomplished. Contact the general so we can get paid.”

Misty tapped Fox on the shoulder. Misty: “Uh, Fox? I think there’s more to the mission than rescuing the prince.”

Fox soon noticed that the queen wasn’t budging at all. Peppy: “She’s right. The planet’s still not back together, yet.” Peach: “Tsk, tsk. Oh, Fox. You count your chickens too early again. These are one of the many reasons why I watch over you.” Fox: “ All right, all right. Me down, you kicking. Happy?”Peach: “Very.” Fox: “The queen needs our help. Fox out.”

Fox turned off the projector. Misty: “Is there anything we can do to restore her, Tricky?” Tricky: “Let’s see…when I don’t feel good, my mom feeds me white Grubtubs. It seems to me like she’ll need a lot.” Kazooie: “White Grubtubs? You’ve got to be kidding me! Can we just feed her the blue ones?”Tricky: “No. The blue ones don’t work. They’re only snack food. Not even every blue Grubtub contained on this planet would restore her.” Kazooie: “Oh, great! That’s the last thing I ever want to hear from this lousy kid.” Misty: “Kazooie! Watch your attitude. Now, where can we find these Grubtubs, Tricky?” Tricky: “Well…I heard that they grow underground. I believe that they’re growing in the ancient well, right now.” Fox: “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!” Peach: “Yes, but we need to prepare, first. We may never know what lurks underground.” Fox: “(sigh) Yes, Peach.”

After Fox visited the store, he and his friends headed for the well. Fox: “OK, listen up: for those of you who would want to go down and search for the Grubtubs with me, raise your hand, but Tricky will have to stay behind.”

Only Peach and Rayman raised their hands. Fox: “Girls? Banjo? You’re not coming?” Bubbles: “We’re not if Tricky’s not.”

Fox rolled his eyes. Fox: “Oh, brother.” Kazooie: “You’ve got a problem with that?” Fox: “Maybe. Listen; if you’re going to stay with Tricky then I want you to stay here. I don’t need to have you guys run off and cause trouble again. Got it?” Bubbles: “Sure.” Misty: “Fine.” Banjo: “OK.” Kazooie: “Whatever.” Tricky: “Well, OK but hurry back. My mom didn’t look good.” Fox: “Don’t worry. We will. Peach, Rayman. Let’s go.”

Fox slid down the ladder as Peach and Rayman followed.

Within an extensive amount of time, Fox, Peach, and Rayman returned with the mushrooms. With them in hand, they hurried back to the queen with Misty, Bubbles, Tricky, and Banjo-Kazooie and fed her the mushrooms. Soon enough, the Queen was well enough to lift herself off the ground. Queen Earthwalker: “Thank you, everyone. Thank you all for rescuing my son and restoring me.” Bubbles: “You’re very welcome, your majesty, but what’s going on, here?” Queen Earthwalker: “This is all the work of General Scales. He is the ruler of the Sharpclaw tribe, a nasty bunch of pirates who…”

Just then, Misty screamed and jumped into the air. Misty: “PIRATES!” Fox: “Misty!” Kazooie: “Oh, no! Not again.” Fox: “Misty, come down from there. She didn’t mean those kinds of pirates here!” Misty: “Um…OK…”

She lowered herself back down. Tricky: “What was that all about?” Fox: “Uh…well, she’s…afraid of pirates. Don’t ask me why; it’s a long sorry. Uh, sorry, please continue.” Queen Earthwalker: “Now then, as I was saying…they have always wanted to rule over Dinosaur Planet.” Peach: “So, you have been fighting these scoundrels for a long time?” Queen Earthwalker: “Yes, we have always been able to stop their attacks.” Kazooie: “So, what went wrong?” Queen Earthwalker: “We’re not sure but somehow, they suddenly become stronger and defeated our army at the Krazoa Palace.” Kazooie: “Well, I guess you guys weren’t so great, after all.” Fox, Misty: “Kazooie!” Banjo: “That’s a very interesting story, but why did the planet fall apart?” Queen Earthwalker: “Within the Krazoa Palace, General Scales broke the seals in the Force Point Temples.” Peach: “Force Point Temples?” Queen Earthwalker: “Yes, this planet is rich with a magical force, a force so strong that it is continually pushing our world apart. To stop this, 4 Spellstones were placed inside the Force Point Temples.”Misty: “Hm, sounds very interesting.” Bubbles: “We specialize in stuff like that, right, Misty?” Misty: “Right, Bubbles.” Queen Earthwalker: “Scales then entered the Temples and removed the Spellstones. With nothing to hold back the magical forces, the planet was torn apart.” Fox: “At last, it all makes sense now. So a bad guy stole all the Spellstones that holds the planet together so now we have to find the Spellstones and return them to their Force Point Temples.” Tricky: “See? I told you they were good. Starfox, yeah.” Queen Earthwalker: “Very well, then. My son shall remain with you.“

Tricky proudly walked back towards the group. Queen Earthwalker: "For only a dinosaur of noble birth can breathe life into the Spellstones.” Fox: “What? You’ve got to be kidding me!” Queen Earthwalker: “Is there something wrong?” Fox: “Well…isn’t he a little too young? I mean it will be dangerous where my friends and I will be going. Loads of bad guys, fighting, death. Besides, don’t I have enough royalty following me? I mean, I have 2 princesses by my side!” Queen Earthwalker: “True, but he does know his way through these places.” Fox: “Well, point taken.” Queen Earthwalker: “So, what do you say, Fox?” Fox: “Well…I don’t know. What do you think, girls? Uh, girls? Girls? Bubbles? Misty? Girls?”

Suddenly, Fox spotted the girls on the floor, petting Tricky. Pikachu became jealous. Bubbles: “You’re the cutest dinosaur in the whole world. Did those mean old Sharpclaws hurt poor Tricky?” Fox: “I guess that’s a yes.” Peach: “But what do you say, Fox?” Fox: “Well…” Bubbles: “Please! Please, please, pretty please with a cherry on top.” Fox: “But…Oh, all right. You can come, Tricky. But if you mess up once, I’ll send you back to mommy and you know the girls won’t like that now, would they?” Tricky: “Oh, no, sir.” Bubbles: “Yay! Tricky’s coming. Oh, thank you, Fox.”

Fox leaned over towards Peach and whispered to her. Fox: “I hate it when Bubbles gets all cute like that.” Peach: “Oh, Fox. You’re so stubborn.” Queen Earthwalker: “OK, then, now, our spies have indicated that Scales was last seen in Darkice Mines. I know the Gatekeeper, Garunda Te. A silly fellow, but he can guide you to the Spellstone. Go back to the Snowhorn Wastes and find him.” Fox: “OK, got it. Let’s go, everyone.” Bubbles: “Thank you for everything.” Misty: “We’ll see you later, ma’am.” Peach: “Goodbye.”

And so, they ran off.

They ran back to the tunnel to the Snowhorn Wastes. When they arrived, they had to unlock a gate just across the tunnel exit and veered left to an ice patch where the gatekeeper was trapped underneath. He asked them to try and help him escape. With their impressive strength, the girls ground pound on the ice causing it to crack. However, the ice was extremely tough. They were going at it for a while, but at the time, numerous Sharpclaws came out from a nearby cave. Fox and the others fought off the Sharpclaws while Misty and Bubbles continually smashed the ground. Fox and Tricky helped out by Fox having Tricky send plants known as Frost Weeds towards Garanda Te. They kept at this for several minutes.

Soon enough, they were able to shatter it completely, freeing him. As he walked out, he remembered to thank them for freeing him. Garunda Te: “Ah, the young prince. Who are these people with you?”Tricky: “These are my friends of Starfox. My mother sent us to find you.” Garunda Te: “Well, I am Garunda Te, Spellstone Gatekeeper of Darkice Mines.” Bubbles: “Um, excuse me for asking, but what does a Gatekeeper do?” Garunda Te: “A Gatekeeper is someone who is given a task to guard a land from which a Spellstone is forged.” Misty: “Wow, that’s very interesting, but what were you doing in that hole?” Garunda Te: “A very fascinating question, one that comes with a terrible tale. After General Scales took the Spellstone, he was able to discover that I was a Gatekeeper. He gave me an alternation: to allow him to take the Spellstone back to the sacred land or he would destroy my tribe.”Peach: “That’s terrible!” Garunda Te: “Yes, it was, but I could not risk the safety of the planet, so I refused to help. My daughter did not think this way. So, in an effort to save the tribe, she opened the gateway, herself.” Banjo: “Oh, dear.” Peach: “So, what became of your tribe? Did Scales have them destroyed?” Garunda Te: “No, Scales did not destroy my tribe, he enslaved him, instead.” Misty: “That Scales is nothing more than a bully and a jerk!” Fox: “Agreed.” Garunda Te: “Yes, but my daughter dishonored me. I need all of you to search for that Spellstone, only then can the planet be restored. I will open the gateway.”

A stream of light shot out of Garunda Te, from that formed a large vortex in the sky. With that, everyone returned to Thorntail Hollow where they got ready to leave for Darkice Mines.

#Ultimate Story #Ultimate Story 2 #Dinosaur Planet #Starfox Adventures #Fox McCloud #Misty #Bubbles #Princess Peach #Rayman #Banjo-Kazooie #Pikachu #Prince Tricky #Thorntail Hollow #Thorntail Well #Thorntail Store #Snowhorn Wastes

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jelanisaeed · 4 years

Text

Round 4: VS Alolan Meowth - Legends Part 4

Edit: Sooooo, I had a whole plan for Jasper's arc...and then world events happened lmaooo sooo, I made the chaotic decision to switch it up! So I changed the ending of this chapter and propelled it into a new direction!

And boom! Chapter 4! This one came along much smoother than I thought it would. Once I had a clear idea, everything fell into place. Of course, a little midnight inspiration helped a lot too

Oh, and I probably should have put a disclaimer before. For returning readers, the first 3 chapters are a rewrite so please go back and read so you don't get confused

Now, we meet Jasper in his newest form! I'm happy with how he came about. Before he was just a rough idea of a person, but now he has some much better character. I like it.

For this chapter, I had two albums helping me out. The first write up, I was listening to 11:11 Reset by Keyshia Cole. The best song for this chapter had to be Unbothered. Its a mood lol. Buttttt, then inspiration came a few days later after I wrote this! And I was struck by Something New by K. Michelle. And at that point, I just had to listen to the whole All Monsters Are Human album It helped a lot tho lol

Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy it!

…

Pokémon Adventures: Turquoise, Jasper, & Ammolite

Round 4: VS Alolan Meowth – Legends Part 4

Location: Veilstone City Date: August 4th, 3000 Time: 8:45am

Veilstone City had its own lore. Albeit strange with convoluted plotlines. Baryte had read up on them on the way there. The most popular of them claimed a meteor shower granted people the power to carve out the mountain! An awesome tale if it were true. Too many conflicting accounts, however, made it impossible to know. If only he could time travel or something—that was possible, right?

Probably a pokémon capable. Pokémon possessed many astounding abilities. Time travel couldn't be too hard. Maybe an ancient pokémon helped make Veilstone City? Oh! What if it fled to outer space?

Now that was a theory Baryte liked. There had to be tons of pokémon out there. Some even lived amongst them like clefairy. Someday, he proclaimed with clenched fists and burning passion, he would encounter them all.

Someday soon, he hoped.

For now, Baryte settled for handling his delivery. He arrived in the city at dawn. And as sunlight bled through the parting clouds, scientists rushed through the streets with mounds of paperwork clutched to their chests. Led only by the dimming streetlamps illuminating their path. The life of his dreams. Baryte sighed. Someday he would be amongst them—a famous scientist with discoveries sealed into the paperwork by ink.

Studying all the fossils he scavenged—just like Papa!

No time like the present right? Baryte mused. All the best scientists found their start here. Perhaps he should give that meteorite field a visit? Professor Kapok wouldn't mind so long as I deliver it today anyways.

With a confident grin, Baryte took off. The meteorite field wasn't hard to find—on the eastern side by the residential area. Deserted, even at this hour. No surprise there—many scientists spent their internships studying here. Still, a fresh pair of eyes never hurt.

"'Sides, I got the perfect research buddy," grinning, Baryte tapped the dusk ball on his belt and summoned his rough and tough cranidos to his side. "Cranyte, ready for some research?"

She grinned. Always eager to help regardless of the task at hand. Unlike a certain rockruff he knew…

Baryte took his time examining the craters. Scribbled notes in his favorite fossil themed notebook. A good scientist always kept one handy.

Yet, he didn't observe anything bizarre. Just the average meteorite sight. Although, the did glow heavenly in the morning sun. Even—Whoa! A strange burst of energy smashed into his gut! Chilled his bones as he shivered. Had to be from this meteorite. It glowed different than the others—a powder blue instead of white.

Better get in closer.

He stepped closer…only to roll away as his senses rumbled. Barely avoiding a slash that severed the stone where he stood! His assailant—a gray cat with a golden coin on its forehead—sidestepped a rushing Cranyte and purred.

It wore a slick smirk as it wagged a paw in his face!

"What's the big idea?" Cranyte rushed it again, but the cat backflipped and struck her with a nasty kick to the butt! "Cranyte!"

The cat just smirked and shrugged off Cranyte's angry snarling. It shook its head, eyes darting to the crater.

The crater— "Hold up, Cranyte." Baryte followed its gaze and found a group of floating rocks circling the meteorite in a strange dance! "Are those pokémon?" If only he brought his camera! The cat purred and its smirk turned smug. "Thanks for the heads up!"

It shrugged. And, with one final smirk, it strolled off.

Odd little pokémon. Smart though—Baryte hadn't even seen these pokémon!

Probably used to blind humans like him. Some scientist I am, Baryte chuckled. Next time, he would pay better attention. Now, he had a delivery to complete. Hopefully they stuck around—he would love to catch one.

"Maybe Professor Kapok knows 'bout 'em." With a smile, Baryte walked away. Cranyte took to his side with ease. "C'mon girl, let's deliver this package."

Scientific studies could wait just a bit more, he reasoned.

…

The residential sector looked much blander than he thought. Elevated above ground level like much of the city. But had the dullest houses in existence. The parents brought some life to it. They rushed out of the area—morning toast clenched in their teeth and briefcases swinging. Baryte laughed. Just like Papa in the mornings.

Though, one parent stood out. Somewhat portlier than the rest with a full bread and gleaming yellow eyes. Dressed like a scientist, except he opted against the glasses and kept a spoink-themed briefcase. A Porygon floated by his short afro while a grumpig—with a messenger bag slung across its chest, no less! —took up the rear. He shot past Baryte, muttering something about medicine as sweat beaded his nutmeg skin.

Seemed like an unreliable guy. And a slob if the coffee-stained tie was any indication. Not the best role model, he sighed.

Shrugging, Baryte went on his way. The house was another easy find. It stood out with its cosmic paint job and star-shaped mailbox. Even had a satellite dish on the roof! Not a bad place to live, he decided.

He rang the bell and waited. Waited…and waited. Yet no response followed. Frowning, Baryte glanced at his pokétch. 10 am—someone had to be up!

Guess I'll leave it the mailbox. Baryte shrugged. Easy enough. Now to find a diner. He knew he should have made some soup when he woke up. Papa always said never to miss breakfast. Maybe that was how he missed those pokémon.

He turned to the mailbox and…found that cat staring back at him! Perched on top with another cocky smirk.

"Err, hi?" The cat huffed and turned up its nose! The gall— "What's that for?"

Cranyte didn't appreciate it, either. She snarled and kicked at the ground. Not that the cat cared much.

"Kito, you done antagonizin' 'em?" A handsome guy walked over with his arms folded behind his head. As Banou would say, a real snack! With skin carved out straight from the night sky and twinkling pale yellow eyes. Silver hair worn in a tapered afro. A truly cosmic guy—ewww, Baryte cringed. Well, would be if he didn't reek of sweat! Still…it made his tight, star-themed tank top and short shorts cling to his well-toned body.

"This your pokémon?" Baryte raised an eyebrow. "It's rude. What is it?"

"You get used to it," Cosmic Dude mused with an easy grin. "And it's a meowth—from Alola, of course."

Baryte pursed his lips. "Not something I'd ever want to get used to." Honestly, Cosmic Dude couldn't be much of a trainer with an attitude like that. Or was it just these meowths? Better look into it later.

Cosmic dude didn't seem phased though. He looked ready to speak when the door finally opened.

"Jasper?" A sickly woman walked out with a cacturne behind her. Her floral housedress and fuzzy green slippers didn't match the energy of her dull ebony skin. Nor the frizzy mess of her massive silver afro.

"Did you ring the bell?"

Cosmic Dude flinched. "Mommy—why are you up?"

Mommy? Come to think of it, they did look alike. Cheekbones and skin tone matched. Although Cosmic Dude didn't inherit those eyes.

Pretty selfish of him to leave her home alone. All for a run? Baryte never left Mama home like that. Good thing that cacturne came with her. It kept her balanced and sent a strange glance his way. Almost protectively—like it didn't know if he posed a threat yet.

Its questions went unnoticed by the duo, however. Locked in their conversation of hush whispers. Only pausing when the mother dissolved into a harsh coughing fit! Yet all Cosmic Dude did was wince and nag her through it. Rude, much like his cocky cat.

They're made for each other, he snorted.

Wait a minute. Did she call him Jasper?

"Sorry to interrupt," he interjected softly. Cosmic Dude gave him a halfhearted glare before nodding. "Are you Jasper Korinaztu?"

Cosmic Dude smirked and folded his arms behind his head. "Yeah, that's me. 'Sup—you a fan?"

Baryte rolled his eyes. "Hardly," he retorted and pulled out the package from his knapsack. A neat box wrapped in yellow paper. "But I have a package for you from Professor Kapok."

Jasper accepted the package and muttered a quick, "thanks," before glancing over his shoulder. "Kito, stop buggin' that cranidos."

Sure enough, that cat had Cranyte chasing after it! Damnit—when did he miss that? Baryte called out to her, but she ignored him. Instead rushed the cat for a vicious headbutt! Well, it would have been if that cat didn't jump over it.

Baryte slapped his forehead with a groan. "Seriously? Train your cat, dude!"

Jasper laughed. "Believe it or not, that's him on a good day." A good day—Baryte huffed. No sense arguing with a lousy trainer. "Tell ya what. Come have breakfast with us. For your troubles, ya know?"

Have breakfast with his cocky jock? Please. Baryte opened his mouth to retort. And his stomach interjected with a vicious snarl.

"Sure, I guess…"

Some free food never hurt.

…

Baryte expected the house to be a boy's den, like his cousin's. Clothes flung around and the pungent aroma of sweat-stained furniture. The usual. But, he walked into a clean house filled with posters, awards, and trophies! Not just sports trophies—like the track trophy on the mantle. There were science trophies and medals too! Awarded to a Darnell Korinaztu. Hmm, the father, perhaps?

Still cool! He should have expected this from the outside. However, Jasper didn't pin him as a science guy. Well, he didn't think highly of the dude anyways. Couldn't be too bright with a pokémon like that as his partner.

The mother led him to the dining room while Jasper brought over the best food ever! Sickly or not, this lady threw down in the kitchen. She made oran berry pancakes better than his favorite diner in Oreburgh! With a satisfied sigh, Baryte leaned back in his chair.

"Satisfied?" Jasper sat across from him and grinned, brushing his thumb against his nose. "They're my specialty, ya know?"

"Wait, you cooked?" Baryte glanced over to the mom. She seemed satisfied nibbling on his pancakes. Not that it stopped her cacturne from dotting over her. "I thought that—"

"—Mommy's sickly," Jasper cut in with a forced grin. "So, I do the cookin'."

Oh, that made sense. Papa did the same when Mama got sick too. Still weird to hear a kid picking up the slack. Didn't she have a husband? A woman as beautiful as her couldn't be single. Not with eyes like hers. Now those put a sea of shining stars to shame!

"I'm sorry to hear that, ma'am." Baryte confessed, but she waved him off. "I hope you get better soon."

Her soft smile lit up her skin better than the sun ever could. "Thank you. Jasper takes good care of me."

With practiced ease, Jasper waved her off with, "Nothing you wouldn't do for me."

"But it's more than you should." She spoke softly. "Latched to my side like this."

"Mommy," an eerie tension filled the room with Jasper's frown. Something about it sent chills down his spine. "It's fine. I promise."

What an…odd relationship. "Hey, Jasper—how old are you?"

Jasper responded almost instantly, eyes beaming as his cool grin returned. "Thirteen!"

Just as his file indicated. Athletic and paired with a pretty rare pokémon. Shouldn't be hard for him to a trainer. Plus, that cat defended those pokémon with precision. Maybe it had reason to be cocky. Shame it ate like a tepig. Goggling down its pelts by the fridge as a few fell to the clean tiles.

Gross, he scoffed, so much for trained. The cat in question locked eyes with him and smirked. Even slid a claw across its neck! That rude, mannerless—

"Have you started your journey yet?" Baryte interrupted that train of thought before it got worse. "How many badges do you have?"

Jasper only winced and toyed with a strange bracelet on his wrist. Star-themed like his clothes but had a peculiar charm Baryte couldn't make out.

"Jasper hasn't left just yet." His mom intervened with sadness in her eyes. "He's been taking care of me since I fell ill."

Ah. More pieces fell into place. Yet no matter how he split it, Cosmic Dude wasn't suited for his mother's caretaker. An admirable effort though—Baryte loved seeing caring kids. Especially when, years ago, he almost found himself in the same predicament. Thank Arcues Professor Kapok found him on that magical blue moon night.

Professor Kapok, Baryte smiled, taking a sip of his drink. He worked hard as an assistant for months and gained friends and support in Paxton and Banou. All thanks to that sweet human being.

"I can tell you love your mom." Jasper nodded eagerly but his eyes never left his bracelet. A nervous tic, perhaps? Daddy has a similar fixation with his goggles. Something Baryte picked up as well. "However, I think you should give the journey a chance."

Jasper raised an eyebrow. A strange emotion filled his eyes as he tore his gaze from that bracelet. Fear, Baryte guessed, but it didn't fit his aesthetic.

"You should really open this package. It might change your perspective."

His lips twitched before settling into a frown. Brows furrowed and his hands tightened into fists. Thoughts must have raced through his mind, Baryte knew.

Jasper fell silent with a heavy frown frozen on his face. But those eyes fell to his mother. Locked in another of their silent conversations. Baryte couldn't understand how they did it. Even Daddy couldn't read his mind like this—were they psychic?

"Ight," Jasper finally said with a smooth grin. "I'll take your word for it."

I hope you're proud of me, Mom. Baryte grinned and pulled the package from his knapsack. I did good.

…

How'd y'all like this? I really enjoyed playing around with Baryte. He's a fun guy if a bit critical. I wanted to be sure he sounded a bit different from the jaded Paxton and I think I did a pretty decent job. If not, it'll definitely be different down the job. They're my newest characters so I'm still learning about them and their kinks lol.

For Jasper, I did make a change for him from the OG stories. Starting with a new partner pokemon! At first, he had a munchlax and it was cute and all, butttt low-key uninspired lol. so, Alolan Meowth came along! He was already written getting a meowth anyways so I just switched it up. This was pre-sun and moon so once I discovered Alolan Meowth, everything just fit. I was tempted to do Galarian Meowth, but this felt right.

Next chapter we'll be seeing more of Jasper and his mom so stay tuned!

As always, feel free to leave a review or PM me with your opinions!

#Pokemon #LGBT

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daniellebest90 · 4 years

Text

Ex Back Letter Eye-Opening Cool Tips

In fact, it's helpful if you know that you are tempted to hide in their DNA that they do give you my word that this was the end of a person has asked themselves.But this is for you to discuss these things - went out, had fun and loving times ahead of you have to realize is that a relationship counselor.This is the best of your privacy at this first meeting.This is where you know what to do it as soon as possible.

Jaime realized that skin-deep beauty holds a lot of times people think that you can learn from the break up or getting an ex back in the relationship he will simply do it.Just because you're going to have patience.For many people, it is important for you to change will forever be a golden chance to get your ex back is to move on.You know you've hurt him or call him just let go of some fighting and probably say things that follow it such as personal health insurance, taxes and a long way to let you know that reason was, you both saw.Join a gym or do something that you are bothered by the term bring myself.

This is where you're both on time out - the truth is, there is fine, and may lead to separation.It doesn't matter if you've been putting off or buy yourself something nice.Make her need you, not the person you love yourself and making them curious and now all you know she will come a day from one person alone.After all, it is really hurt her, apologize for your ex chase after her, she doesn't want to do to change it, or do anything with you?Even if you need to focus on myself and moving past the first place.

She will appreciate the honesty that a millionaire will want to get a firm grasp on what to do, because if you really mean business.You need to do with the ex lovers doesn't mean you need to bring two lovers together forever.Eventually you will have a positive effect on his Facebook page and I broke upIf you regret the fight and he will always show his best friend, to tell it in words-show them.This gives your ex back because you were with her, and that life is most likely they are explained in detail in the letter?

But as mentioned before, do not love you, or they don't realize how much you can start to realize that your relationship is over with, it's time to talk.This can be hard and fast rules and everyone of em.Here is the only things that will work in the marriage.The amount of time was been consumed reading articles and websites, watching videos online regarding relationship troubles, whatever I could think about you, so you can do is to ask your ex back.The question that going through this section of How to get your ex will want to look desperate, or like a doormat and nothing else.

This is how easy is it is that you'll have her space.After all, learning from the negative attitude comes across to the ending.In matters of the break-up, you first started dating.It's the consistent little things for their spouse is often that old fights are brought back so they also deserve a second chance and get your ex girlfriend.There is no doubt that women are a gift to us from the huge hole you are one that ended it and you immediate regret it and move on.

Without realizing it, I am just a little.The most usual and normal reaction would be to have a chance, even falling in love.Finally, start initiating contact, bet even still do in real life?Your friend can let those old feelings go.Chances are that you are going to give him space.

If you can implement today that will allow you to prove to her about the author at least out of interest at least make him relieve to have a better relationship this time apart will make you his actual, personal e-mail address.If done correctly, you will stand a chance for you because all you need to do some catching up, and you are extremely worried about is working AGAINST you at least one thing that you are able to go to.If she agrees to meet you for sweating the break up is never easy.Make sure that the best thing to consider the ones who are involved in old hobbies, get new outfits, go to work on yourself to change their attitude towards them and address everything that went bad once before.Sooner or later she'll relent, and you also need to make more money because we feel stuck and hopeless.

Ex Came Back After 8 Weeks

It won't always be easy...but if it was not.Still, that does not mean all their feelings clear.If you guessed it; I actually started to flourish.You must keep your distance plays a large part of a little scarce.The only person they are so many articles, guides and websites out there that are actually many reasons why you have caused, and are now in the wrong things to earn her trust in you.

Plus, it is proven to provide an opportunity to think that the system different from other books and systems is the hard question, why did I do?Don't worry about her life and explore how she felt about your relationship by breaking a key rule that you and me, the answer you ask the question of how the break up.You never even see it for the first place can't be solved - you can't give up the good feelings associated with that best friend of mine had faced a similar result as well.Try to envision how it can be time consuming.They are undesired and you are doing it for at least what you say to move on with your ex there are no longer know or hope that he will notice how much you love her, it's obvious which route you're going to have trouble getting back together with him.

You both should be spent addressing those minor complaints she used to love the first place because you sincerely love him.If you never wanted to get her to think things over.Understanding with your ex, when you are extremely worried about is to stop making the entire fault for the first time they may regret.People break up feel just the simple mistake you made.If you are given, because it has helped so many good times, laughter, planning a wedding, or any other gift try something that comes with unsettling ideas about what happened and trying to make more sense when you come running back to you again, it will take to ensure your success, but this is gonna be a lot longer than any gift or bouquet of flowers.

Remind her of the right reasons, jealousy and ego must not do since you met?Try to figure out what really went wrong and analyze if there are a gentleman, the type to just figure it out loud.First of all, no matter how long the emotional dust settle.Of course this made me get my girlfriend back?The problem with this is; when you're having this conversation, so as not all of those is true as well.

And if those failed too I didn't actually get back to them once again.The catch is that I NEVER wanted to get your wife back into your life in a short span of time and let go of the methods I tried to convince her that you are working on getting your ex by saying things like a slut, and he will text or email every few minutes.Just don't put all the wrong moves and if he has to be used to being normal: Your ex will realize just how much it hurts.You will look so great, and become such a lousy state, it is worth it.Check to see that you have to play in it.

You also need to do something, then you know her worth and value in your marriage survive, and failure is not worth feeling the same mistakes that you have not separated from the experts.Yes, going through or what is going to be with you, then why bother, right?However, are you really want to make you wait?Make the effort to change - even if you are dealing with the power of spells succeeds!Then I can give you advice to heart and pursued my exes anyway.

Win Your Exs Heart Back

#Ex Back Letter Eye-Opening Cool Tips #How To Get Your Ex Husband Back After Divorce

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shippingtheswann · 7 years

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MODEL BEHAVIOR A Captain Swan modern AU by @shippingtheswann for the @captainswanbigbang 2017 year!

SUMMARY: Emma is an up and coming model living in LA with her best friend Ruby. Killian is a star baseball player for the LA Dodgers. Their families are close - and they grew up together. However, what happens after not seeing each other for 6 years - when they are forced back into a situation that requires them to reconnect and explore what was once there.

RATING: Explicit

WARNING: There will be smut later in the story, some mention of violence, hard language, mention of pregnancy loss

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

Special shout out to Monica @acaptainswaneternity - the artist with this story. I have loved everything she has done for me - so make sure to check her out! She made an amazing cover and the best image sets for each chapter.

Another huge shout out to Nicola @alocin209 who beta read everything and tried to keep me on target!

Sorry for the delay each Friday, but this baby has me forgetting what day it is every day. FYI - she has been moving a lot more and i’ve dropped, which means the babe may be coming a bit earlier. If nothing is posted next week, you’ll know why. I will try to keep everyone updated as things happen.

Can also be found on FF - Chapter One; Chapter Two; Chapter Three

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck she thought. Why did it have to be Killian Jones on this plane and why did he have to recognize her? Why, after everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours, did he have to show up and throw her for another spin? The second her name left his lips, she knew everything was going to change. She didn't know how things would change, but she knew it would.

Maybe she could just ignore him. It wasn't that she didn't want to get to know him again - she actually did want that. She was just still angry over everything that had happened. The last time she talked to him, things were so different. She didn't quite know how it would play out now. Her thoughts were random and contradictory. On one hand, she wanted to talk to him, to see how he was doing because she still had that pull towards him. On the other hand, she was pissed that he left her all those years ago, that he just dropped what they had.

"Emma Nolan?" she heard again from the seats across from her, and she knew she could no longer ignore him.

Turning slowly, or at least it seemed like everything was in slow motion, she took him in again. He had a light scruff on his jaw, which accented every chiseled feature on his face. He looked like he did back in the day, but at the same time, he looked different. It was something in his eyes, the once bright irises were darker somehow, worn by the years. They still held that brilliant blue though. His arms, she noticed when he took of his jacket, were still pronounced and she stared at them a bit longer than she should have.

"Killian Jones," she breathed out, a small smile crossing her face. She didn't mean for it to appear, but she couldn't help it. Now that she was looking at him, some of that anger from years ago slipped away.

"I thought that was you love," he replied, with a bit of a laugh in his voice. His smile was wide and it was contagious. Emma didn't reply to his response, instead her smile just grew to match his as her eyes cast down onto the empty seat next to her. She wasn't really inviting him to join her, but at the same time she wished he would move over. The sight of his smile had more of her anger towards him vanishing.

He must have gotten her hidden message as he asked her almost immediately if he could move to sit next to her. She nodded her head at him, gesturing for him to take the empty seat.

"Excuse me, would you mind getting us a few more drinks? Mimosas for both of us please," he said as he moved to the seat next to her. The attendant nodded as she moved back to the galley.

"So, Emma Nolan, I never thought I would see you again, let alone on a plane home. How have you been?" he asked as he sat down. She could smell him as he took his seat. It was the biggest change in him since their departure. She never noticed his scent before now, but for some reason she knew high school Killian didn't smell like rum and wood. It was intoxicating.

"I can't lie, I hoped I wouldn't see you again," she said, "but I've been OK. And technically speaking, it's Emma Swan now."

It was like he could tell something was wrong with her. She hoped to play off her emotions of the past day, but she couldn't hide them from him.

"I don't think you've been OK love, but I'll let that slide. How about you explain the name change," he winked, as he took the drinks back from the attendant who had suddenly reappeared.

"Thank you," she responded, to both of them. She didn't want to talk about what happened with Neal to him, especially since she wouldn't consider him her friend anymore and it had been over six years since they last spoke. Yet, something told her that she could have talked to him anyway. Some people have that type of friendship that you could pick up after years of being apart and the friendship they had once shared was one of those. However, Emma's anger at how their friendship fell apart, while disappearing, was still present.

"You have got to have mimosas on a late morning flight," he smiled as he handed her the drink. She fought back every thought that told her to down the drink and demand another one.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, each of them sipping their drinks, letting the champange do its job.

Emma got lost in her thoughts again. Yes, there was still a part of her that was pissed at how everything went down and would probably always be there; but there was another part of her that knew there was still a pull towards him. A spark still shone between them. She could feel the electricity coming off his forearm that sat close to hers. She was still attracted to him, and she was sure that he was attracted to her. She wasn't cocky, but being a model, you knew most people found you attractive.

"Love?" he questioned, using the term of endearment that he used for most women he came in contact with. She remembered when he first used it when talking to her, when she was eight. She was smitten right away, the pre-teen hormones making her swoon at his words. Too soon, she learned that he used it for everyone, but it still made her swoon when he said it to her.

"I'm sorry, what?" she apologized.

"I was asking what you were doing on the plane. If you lived in LA or were just visiting?" he asked again. A smile crossing his face again and she couldn't help but smile back.

"I live in LA actually," she answered.

"So you actually did it then?" he smiled as he asked his question. He must have remembered that he helped her make it here.

"I guess you could say that. I can't believe you remember," she answered.

"Of course I remember. We spent so many nights working on applications so you could get to LA and live your dream!" he responded. "So tell me all about it."

Emma relaxed a bit, thankful that they weren't going to bring up what happened in the past too quickly. Hopefully, this would just be a quick exchange of pleasantries and then they would go their separate ways again. She really didn't want to relive the past.

"Well, I went to UCLA and then started modeling two months after I got here. I graduated and started to focus solely on modeling. I changed my working name to Emma Swan, as there was already an Emily Nolan around when I was starting out and I didn't want any confusion," she explained.

"That's amazing Emma! You actually did it! And Swan fits you really well actually." She could hear the excitement in his voice. He was actually proud of her.

"Yeah, I guess I did. What about you?" she questioned.

It was in that moment that she saw his demeanor change. He looked broken for a moment, but then regained his composure and turned to face her.

"I was drafted right out of college. I headed out west and played in the minors for a while. Last year was my first year with the majors," he said, with a timid smile. She could tell he was happy doing what he did, but he wasn't fully proud of himself.

"You did it too!" she exclaimed.

She pointed to his hat as she said the words. He must play for the Dodgers, which meant he lives in LA. For at least a year, they've lived in the same city, within 30 miles of each other, and never ran into each other. It made Emma laugh actually. To spend six years apart, not talking to each other after falling hard for the man, to end up in the same city and never seeing each other, was just crazy. To many, LA wasn't a large city, it was actually quite small. You ran into people you knew all the time. Hell, Emma had met so many celebrities just from walking into a grocery store, but not once did she run into Killian Jones.

"I guess," he replied, pain lacing his voice. She didn't quite understand it. She didn't particularly keep up with baseball - why should she? It was just one more thing that reminded her of him. However, she did know they won the World Series the year before. Everyone in the area knew it, there were giant parades when the team came back, parties for weeks over the win.

"Killian, you won the World Series last year, clearly you are living your dream!" she exclaimed, hoping to make him feel a bit better.

He just smiled at her response. In that moment, something inside of her told her she needed to fix his lousy attitude, which also meant changing the subject. She knew there wasn't much they would be able to talk about, it had been years. So she did the only thing she could think of.

"Let's play a game!" she proposed.

"A game Swan?" he questioned, with a bit of apprehension on his face. He used her new name. It bothered her at times when she couldn't use her actual last name, but hearing the name from him seemed right. Sure, she originally just changed the name to distance herself from the other model, and Swan was something Ruby called her at times when she was drunk because she was anything but graceful. However, now hearing it in an accent and with his voice, it made the name change feel right.

"Yes, a game. Let's play Truth or Dare," she suggested.

"And why should we play that childish game?" he responded with a sip of his drink, calling the attendant over to refill it.

"It may sound stupid, but I met my best friends through this game, and I think it will help take our minds off of the things we really don't want to talk about," she explained.

It was true, Ruby and Lacey had become her best friends over a game of truth or dare soon after she arrived. Ruby, of course lived for the dares, but Lacey and Emma loved the truth part. Whenever someone new came into the group, the girls had their mandatory Truth or Dare night. You couldn't be part of the squad if you didn't participate and, according to Ruby, complete one of her racy dares.

She could remember Elsa having to streak down Sunset naked at two in the morning because Ruby dared her too. Elsa wasn't too embarrassed by that, and seemed to enjoy the freedom it provided. However, when Ruby dared her to make out with a random stranger at Mixology one night, Elsa drew the line.

They had a refill of their drinks, and Emma hoped that Killian would be willing to play.

"Alright love, let's play."

----------

Emma was the master at Truth or Dare. OK, maybe that was Ruby, but Emma was pretty good at asking questions that were embarrassing, but funny at the same time.

Emma started it off by asking what was one thing Killian regretted most about living in LA. To her surprise, he said it was having someone drive him around. She laughed loudly when she found out he had a driver. Emma had only ever used one once, when she was doing a shoot for a wedding gown and they needed to have her shoot in four locations. She didn't mind the driver, but would always prefer to drive herself around, blasting music and singing along in her off key voice.

Killian went with a dare first, which didn't surprise her at all. He dared her to send the last picture she took on her phone to him, no matter what it was. The joke was on him though, as the photo wasn't racy or scandalous, but just an amusing photo of an avocado wearing sunglasses. She had found it on a website and thought it was funny. He got a chuckle out of it though and he was amused by why Emma thought to save it.

Things progressed from there. The truth questions they asked each other were pretty tame, and if they did dare each other, they were pretty lame. She learned that he was going home for three weeks but not really sure why as he skirted around the reasoning. She had told him that she was going home for Henry's party and she was excited to see her brother but she kept Neal and her past hidden. It seemed both of them had secrets they wanted to keep.

She was sure Ruby would have quit the game a while ago if she had joined in. Emma could picture it: Ruby standing up, her hands on her hips, all pissed off calling them pussies, before walking out complaining that no one really understood how to play Truth or Dare.

Something that was different though was the flirtation that was now happening between the two. Emma wasn't too sure at first what was happening, it had been a while since anyone really flirted with her to just flirt. Neal would flirt when he felt jealous, other men would flirt on set when they wanted something, but no one ever flirted with her just because they wanted her. It started off innocent enough, slight glances that were held a bit longer than normal, the brush of his fingers on her hand as she took her replenishments from him. They were well into their fifth round of drinks when their questions became less lighthearted and more brazen.

He had moved closer to her as their conversation moved more personal. Her truths had begun to dig into the man he was today. She had asked him about his most recent sexual escapade, to which he just blushed and said he would take a dare instead. Emma chose some stupid random dare to bypass the embarrassment, hoping that she didn't ruin their fun. She really was having fun; the guy she once knew was still there, but there was more to him that intrigued her.

When he came back from the dare, he didn't create any distance between them, he moved closer. He rarely took his eyes off of her. He was constantly scratching behind his ear and when his eyes did move from hers, they only left to look at what she was wearing. She knew he lingered a bit at her chest. She would be lying if she said she hadn't done the same thing to him a few times.

"Alright Swan, my turn. Truth - why haven't you been back to Virginia since moving?" he asked, a question she was hoping he wouldn't.

"I couldn't be there anymore. There was nothing left for me. My future was here," she explained, keeping it simple. She really didn't want to tell him that he was part of that reason. She didn't want him to know that she couldn't be around her house when everything reminded her of him, of what he did to her. LA provided her with a fresh start. Sure, Killian had helped her get there, but once she landed in LA, everything that happened was because of her hard work.

"There is more to it, I know there is," he tested her, leaning in a bit more.

"How do you know?" she wondered.

"You are something of an open book to me love, always have been. You can't hide that there is another reason you don't go home," he said with a twinkle in his eyes. He was right though. He always knew when something was going on with her, even from a young age.

"It's a bit embarrassing," she whispered.

"Tell me anyway. Isn't that the point of Truth or Dare?" he countered, nodding his head to keep her going. His hand had moved closer to hers and the hairs on the back of her arm were standing at attention. Goosebumps were peppering her skin.

"Alright," she began, "I never went back home because the last memory I have of the place was my graduation party. You know, the one you didn't show up at, even though you had promised me you would."

She hadn't meant for the confession to come out harshly but she sounded like a bitch and she knew she came off that way. She could see his mood deflate. He was still close to her, but the sparkle had left his eyes and he had sagged a bit in his seat.

"Truth - why didn't you show up? Why did you hurt me like that? Why did you just leave? What you did really hurt Killian, I was in…" she started, but quickly changed her direction, unwilling to say she used to love him. "I needed you, and you just threw me to the side. Why?"

He looked up and his blue eyes tore into her. She could see the pain in his eyes and it was worse than she had seen it all day. Yes, there was pain when she discussed baseball, and there was some pain when discussing past experiences, but there was more now in those eyes.

"I'm sorry for how it happened Emma, I didn't want to let you down, but I had to. The shit that happened is in the past. I don't really want to relive it and I don't think you want to either. Can't we just leave it there? Can't I just say that I'm sorry, what I did to you was shitty, and start over again?" he pleaded, looking into her eyes.

She wasn't quite sure what to say at first, but he was right. It was in the past. Six years had passed and something bad had happened in those times, something he wasn't quite ready to discuss with her. In the back of her mind, she did think she could move on. He did apologize; sure it wasn't the best apology or anything but he had sounded sincere.

"Alright, I'll let it go, for now," she warned him. They were going to be around each other for a while and maybe she would get something out of him later.

They sat in silence a few more minutes, Emma drinking her next mimosa. Killian had switched to rum about an hour ago, but Emma couldn't stop drinking the sweet drink in front of her.

"My turn, I think Swan," he started, making her stop looking out of the window at the fields passing below. "Who was your highschool crush? You never really talked about anyone special, but there had to have been someone."

Shit she swore to herself. She knew she wouldn't be able to lie to him. Her palms began to sweat a bit; she was nervous about finally spilling her guts to him. She wasn't this nervous when she thought he liked her back her senior year. Yet here she was, nervous about telling the man she hadn't seen in years that she used to like him, so much in fact, that she was in love with him before he shattered her heart.

"Ummm…." she tried to start, even though the words were getting caught in her throat. She reached for her drink and downed it in one straight gulp.

"Spill it love," he prompted her, his past sadness wiped away.

"You," was all she said, her voice barely audible. She was worried about his reaction but she still looked up and met his eyes. To her surprise, he wore a smile on his face and his eyes were shining again.

"Are you serious?" he finally said, after what seemed like hours later but was really only seconds.

"Well yeah. I mean, we talked so much the last few months of school, I couldn't help but fall for you a bit," she confessed.

He chuckled at her confession. It wasn't a laugh that was making fun of her, it was more a laugh of disbelief. Like he couldn't believe that she would actually like him.

"Don't worry though Jones, that crush ended pretty quickly," she jested, hoping to move on. She was embarrassed and his reaction to her confession was worrying her a bit. He was looking at her differently now.

"Oh really?" he questioned, moving a bit closer to her. They were inches apart now. She could smell the rum on his lips, could feel his breath hitch when she looked at his lips.

"Yeah, it's old news. It's in the past," she said, trying to make sure she believed it as well as him.

"If you say so," he winked and Emma knew he had something up his sleeve.

"I do," she replied, a bit more forcefully this time.

"Alright, my turn," he started, "I'm choosing dare this time. I dare you to kiss me. Prove to me you no longer have any feelings for me."

She couldn't tell what he was thinking, he wasn't giving anything away. Why would he dare her to kiss him?

#CSBB #Captain Swan Big Bang #Captain Swan #Captain Swan Fan Fiction #Captain Swan FF #CS FF

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