Genre: fluff, neighbors au, enemies to lovers (kind of)
Summary: Your mom doesn’t know how to stop playing matchmaker, but all you really want is to find something that feels like home.
Word Count: 7.5k
Warnings: Reader has anxiety, mentions of past abuse, mention of drinking (reader is of age), reader’s mom is too involved in reader’s love life
A/N: A little birthday gift for Hyunjin. It’s not my best work, but I really enjoy it and hopefully you all will too
This fanfiction and header are property of @/hobi-is-golden. reposting on any platform without explicit permission is prohibited
Summer break; A solace like none other. As much as you loved your major, and all of the friends you’d made while away at college, you always yearned to return home. You were close with your family, and you always loved seeing your friends again. You were a sentimental person, finding things that touched you deeply and holding onto them like they were treasures to be collected and admired.
There was something about being in your own city, the safety within those four walls of your childhood home. Nothing compared. That feeling in the pit of your stomach and the deepest depths of your chest when you were home was something that you sought out everywhere you went, in every person you met. And no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t find it. So at the end of the day, it felt good returning home.
You were giddy when you pulled up to your house, turning off your car and deciding to gather as many of your bags as possible in one trip. Not fumbling and dropping your keys was going to be difficult, managing to unlock the door would probably be even more difficult. Your parents knew you were coming home, but your mom had a habit of forgetting to unlock the door, and of losing track of time, so you’d be more surprised if the door had already been unlocked for you.
You cursed under your breath as one of your bags slipped from your fingers, followed by your keys clattering to the pavement. You heaved a sigh, crouching down to pick them up again. After a moment of digging through the bag, you found that you were less frustrated with your clumsiness and more grateful that nothing fragile had been in the bag you’d dropped.
This was, you reluctantly admitted out loud and to nobody in particular, your own fault. You’d packed all your things to bring in one go instead of shipping some of it ahead. Not to mention your stubborn personality that was insisting you only make one trip.
“Hey, need a hand?” A voice asked from behind you. It sounded far enough away to reassure you that you weren’t about to be kidnapped before you could look your captor in the eye. You spun around to confront the owner of the voice, miraculously managing to keep a hold of everything that you’d precariously balanced in your arms.
“I’m fine. Um, thanks though.” You let out a nervous laugh. The guy that stood at the end of your drive was disarmingly handsome; dark hair framing his face – a very pretty face at that – and his lips were curled into a wide smile. His lips looked soft, and smooth, and plump enough that you almost considered being jealous.
“Are you sure? I can unlock the door or something.” He moved closer, and as he walked you noticed his lithe figure. He carried himself with grace and power, a strange mix that simply screamed ‘look at me’. So you did.
Yeah, definitely handsome.
“No, it’s okay. I got it all into the car. Getting it out is just…” You put the bags you were holding on the ground, pulling out another from the trunk. “Not as easy as expected.”
He laughed, a musical giggle that coaxed a smile onto your face. He picked up the bags off the ground and took your keys from your hand. You protested, but he was already walking away from you towards the front door.
“I’m Hyunjin, by the way.” He told you as you hurried to grab the rest of your things and slammed the trunk shut. You caught up with a bit of effort as he was unlocking the door and opening it for you. “Your parents said you were coming home this week.”
“You know my parents?” You asked, stepping inside and putting your bags down. You flexed your wrists afterwards. Damn, what did you even pack that was that heavy?
“Yeah,” He put the last couple of bags down with the others, then closed the door behind the two of you. For a moment you were struck by the fact that you had just allowed a strange man into your house. But he’d been nothing but kind, if a little overzealous. “I moved in next door with my friend. Your parents sort of took us in. They’re really great.”
warnings: swearing, hot and heavy making-out, inappropriate use of kitchen counters, copious amounts of chamomile tea
summary:
“There’s a reason I don’t have many civilian friends to hang out with on my days off,” Changbin remarks, tone dry and relatively light despite what he’s confessing. “…Any civilian friends, actually.“
“Is that what you want?” you ask. “Friends?”
His eyes dart up to meet yours, raising an eyebrow as he gives you a look. “…Among other things.”
part of the six month drabble event!
prompts: “you look pretty hot in plaid” “quit it or i’ll bite”
Not for the first time, you chastise yourself over this little schoolgirl crush you’ve developed. Pining over a literal mafioso is very much an obvious capital-D Dumbidea.
But it’s so very hard to stay rational when Seo Changbin turns up on your doorstep with barely a half-hour’s notice, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry, I know this is sudden.”
Just as good as I remember ♥️♥️♥️ I really love the vulnerability here. So often the mafia fics are laden with violence and the scary stuff, the thrilling stuff. It’s so refreshing to see this side of it, the safe house, and I love these two. I’m glad I didn’t give up digging to find this fic tonight!!
Minho smirks triumphantly in the bathroom mirror, eyes admiring his newly decorated body.
Spots of blue and purple are painted all over; a remnant trail of where your mouth had decided to mark him, claim him. He can still make out the feeling of your soft lips kissing him up and down, sucking pretty blemishes onto his pale skin, even sinking your teeth into him when the pleasure became too overwhelming.
But the best part are the countless red scratches that litter his back and shoulders. He had you sobbing in ecstasy, clawing down his back, your cunt tightening relentlessly around his large cock being repeatedly driven deep in you.
Minho was in heaven when your nails dug into him uncontrollably, raking his skin as he fucked you hard into the mattress. You were clinging to him as if your life depended on it. Every harsh thrust forced you closer and closer to the edge; and the aid of a single, light stroke to your clit was all it took to send you flying apart at the seams, body shaking in white hot pleasure. You were in utter euphoria, eyes rolled back, his name on your lips.
He almost can’t wait for the beautiful marks to fade… just so he can get you to make new ones on him all over again.
Synopsis: If you think about it, it’s Chaeyoung’s fault for suggesting you do it in the first place. Magic AU. High school AU.
Warning: demons, fake witchcraft, possibly inaccurate tarot card readings, so much worldbuilding
Word Count:13k
Pairing: fem!reader x Changbin
There is a problem.
Actually, there are multiple problems, but the demon you accidentally summoned seems to be the most pressing one.
“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, hoping that the pajama-wearing demon with dark circles under his eyes does not blast you into oblivion. After four years of attending an academy for Supernaturals, Supernaturals no longer phase you, but this is a completely different case. Like regular Naturals, all bets are off when you wake them up at midnight during a much needed-sleep. “I really didn’t think that would work. Mina gave me the book, but she’s a diviner, so she doesn’t ever do this kind of stuff unless she really, really needs to, but she never needs to since she’s really good at divination and…” You sigh and softly add, “I’m really sorry.”
He yawns, and when he covers his mouth, you catch a glimpse of an unfamiliar sigil on his wrist. It doesn’t look like a disciplinary one, so maybe you won’t be turned into a pile of ash after all. You honestly didn’t think that you would be able to summon a demon. No modesty, it should have been impossible for you because:
Naturals have a two percent success rate in summoning them
You’ve learned how to read and write the Undead Tongue, but you still stumbled through the sentences and butchered about half the words involved in the ritual
This is a basic summoning; no respectable demon answers a general call
Even if one did, you highly doubt that they would want your finished set of balancing potion equations as an offering
However, for some strange reason, it appears that a demon actually is interested. Based on the Academy for Supernaturals gym t-shirt he has on, he’s a student and is in need of homework answers.
“So what do you need me for?” he asks as he glances around the circle you made out of shoelaces. Three candles of varying heights triangulate the center and are accompanied by the three different items required for this sort of summoning: an offering, a tie to the summoner, and a purpose. He picks up your equations and skims the answers. “Are these right?”
Still in a state of shock, you automatically answer, “They should be. I double-checked the math with a witch friend.” Not to mention, you’re actually good at Potions since it’s just magical chemistry.
“Great.” He starts folding up the paper until he notices your panicked face. “Oh, do you still need this?”
“Yes. I mean, I can just do the problems again or whatever, but I didn’t mean to summon you. You can go. I’m sorry for waking you. Good night.”
The demon crosses his arms and looks at you questioningly. “What did you summon me for?”
“Nothing. I just wanted to see if it would wo— Don’t look at that!”
You lunge for the creamy envelope on the floor before he can reach it, but by the time you have registered his movement, he has skipped past your stuffed rabbit and picked up the invitation. You have broken open the seal already, so you know exactly what its contents are. The student council sends out personalized invites to all of the students for whatever asinine reason—
Stars above, he knows your name now. It’s somehow gotten even worse.
You idly fan yourself, knowing full well that it’s not the small candle flames that are making you sweat.
“‘An Unforgettable Night,’” he reads. He reads aloud your name, and you burn hotter than Hell ever could. “You want a prom date?”
“It was an accident,” you hastily say. This is all Mina’s fault. After you lamented—her words, not yours—over not having someone to go to prom with, one of her diviner friends suggested that you make a deal with a demon, so being the caring roommate she is, Mina actually went to the store and bought a summoning book for beginners for you. You finally caved after weeks of incessant asking. You also made sure she would be at her star-reading class when you conducted the ritual. “Really. Just take the answers and go.”
“I can be your prom date.”
“What? Why?”
He shrugs. “I’m not going with anyone either. And you seem pretty good at Potions, so if I go with you, will you help me study for my Potions final?”
You had plans to study with Jihyo, the aforementioned witch friend, but you’re unsure if you’re allowed to reject a demon’s offer, especially since you’re the one who called upon him. Besides, this sudden idea of his feels like a trap. “You don’t want to ask a witch instead?”
“Aren’t you a witch?”
“I’m a Natural.”
You have no special powers or abilities, but the Academy admits a handful of Naturals each year to foster a sense of community with them and because they’ve learned that they’re actually pretty useful to have around as mediators, researchers, and inventors. As your principal frequently likes to remind you and your fellow Natural students, your innate ingenuity is what makes you so exceptional. Something about how Naturals overlook limitations that Supernaturals cannot, which explains why white shoelaces seem to be an acceptable replacement for chalk circles.
“As long as you’re good at potions.” He shakes his head. “Dumb question, my bad. Friend’s a witch, but he’s practically failing. But you’re a human. Cool.”
He smiles, showing off his pointy incisors that would be more fitting on a vampire or a werewolf, and you wonder if demons still eat their human sacrifices. Not that you’re offering yourself as one, but it would be nice to know if putting yourself into danger by agreeing.
“That’s all settled then. You should go,” you suddenly say, feeling a little embarrassed by your train of thought. Demons are perfectly nice Supernaturals. You wouldn’t have passed Demonic History if not for San, and he is way more intense than the one in front of you. “My roommate’s gonna be back from class soon. We can talk about… our deal tomorrow.”
He nods understandingly. “Call me whenever you’re free. Seo Changbin, iced coffee or culinary lavender, whichever is easier. I also answer to Potions answers.”
“Great, I’ll keep that in mind,” you reply even though you have no intention of ever summoning him again. A direct summoning like he’s suggesting is even more difficult, and the idea of even having to read that long page of the Undead Tongue is making you nervous. If the call doesn’t go through because of your lousy pronunciation, you’ll either have to ask Mina for help or beg San to give up Changbin’s contact information, assuming demons know one another that well. Hell is a small realm. “But could I just get your number instead? It’ll be easier for me.”
You hand him your phone and stifle a laugh when you see that he’s added the devil emoji after his name. He bids you good night and vanishes in a puff of fire and brimstone, blowing out all three candles. A heavy silence falls over the room as you finally begin processing what you just did.
By the moon, you made a deal with a demon. Over a prom date, of all things.
You bury your head in your head, trying not to let out the anguished scream that has been building up ever since Seo Changbin appeared. He set the carpet on fire momentarily. He left a scorch mark on your beloved bunny and on Mina’s bed skirt. He took your homework answers. That last one bothers you more than you expected.
You warily eye the time and the scene in front of you. You really ought to clean the room before Mina comes back. Maybe she’ll be too excited by the prospect of prom dress shopping to notice the smell of sulfur in the air.
No, she won’t, but some fresh night air will help your case.
Obviously, Mina finds out, not because of her bed skirt or the strange smell in the air but because you are delicately patting your bunny’s stomach with vinegar. Bun-Bun is sacred to you. Mina knows that you would never try to clean her in fear of messing up the de-stressing sigil Jihyo has sewn on since one loose thread could mean the sigil would stop working, and you would again be subject to nightmares where you have lost all your teeth.
When you inform Mina of your successful summoning, she nearly drops her star maps. “So he’s really going to be your date? I can’t believe Chaeyoung’s interpretation could actually be right.”
According to Mina, Chaeyoung, her diviner friend known for her rather unconventional mindset, pulled the Devil, the Wheel of Fortune, and the Lovers when she did a tarot reading for your future. Somehow, those cards translated into what you just did. You’re no divination expert, but that feels like a very surface-level reading.
“He agreed in exchange for help in Potions,” you sigh. Speaking of, you need to redo those problems since Changbin left with your paper. As you flip open the textbook again, you quietly ask, “Do you think this is a bad idea?”
“No, I think it’ll be fun. He seems nice enough, so what’s the harm? Prom doesn’t mean anything outside of school anyway, so it’s not like you’re committing to a relationship.” She glances over at Bun-Bun’s, and you protectively hold her closer, scrunching your nose when the smell of vinegar wafts upwards. “I think Jihyo needs to fix the sigil.”
“Yeah, I think so too.”
You unlock your phone and send a message to Jihyo about dropping off your bunny at her dorm room tomorrow. In the meantime, Mina sends you a link to a dress shop in town and a winky face even though she’s in the same room as you. She flashes you a conspiratory smile before she disappears into the bathroom to shower.
Wanting a distraction, you click the link. The dresses on the website look pretty, and the foggy green one is so alluring that you almost think a charm has been cast on the image. As you contemplate over it, Jihyo responds, affirming that she can restore your plushie to her usual nightmare-preventing self. You relay the happy message to Bun-Bun, whose big black eyes stare soullessly back at you. You pat her head for good luck, and after a moment’s hesitation, you text Changbin to ask if he’s busy at four in the afternoon.
His reply is immediate: “I’m free.”
You sigh and absentmindedly stroke Bun-Bun’s ears as you hurriedly complete your Potions homework. No dreams tonight, you plead, or at least ones where you still have all of your teeth.
After you leave Jihyo’s room, you head straight to the east side of campus. The stony outcropping there has a smattering of picnic tables shielded by tall evergreen trees, making it the perfect location for discussing potentially shady deals. Also, the vending machines there have the best selection of snacks, and it’s Thursday; they’ve just been restocked.
Changbin has already arrived and acquainted himself with the beverage vending machine, as evidenced by the open can of coffee he has. He looks marginally less sleep-deprived than last night, which could bode well or not well. Maybe he’s changed his mind. Deals with demons are binding, but the default binding is vague, and you didn’t have the foresight to extract a pint of your own blood to create a more specific one. Maybe you should pay more attention to Mina’s musings about divination.
“Hey.” He gestures to the empty seat in front of him, and you sit, trying not to stare at the leaf stuck on one of the horns protruding from his skull. “So, how should we go about this? Prom’s in like, three weeks. Did you buy tickets already ‘cause I’ve got mine.”
You have since you were planning to go, with or without a date. This year’s theme promises an unforgettable night, and since last year’s Enchanted Garden theme included everlasting corsages and boutonnieres, there must be something spectacular planned. “Yeah. How about your tux? I still haven’t gotten my dress yet, so if you haven’t, that’s fine. Are we gonna match? And then there’s the flowers and stuff since I don’t think they’re giving free ones out this year.” Stars above, why are you so nervous about this? It’s just a simple discussion, straightforward as can be. Should you draw up a written contract, or would that be even more awkward? Before you can stop yourself, you quickly add, “You’ve got a leaf on your horn, by the way.”
He pats around until he finds it and flicks it off. With an earnest expression, he says, “We can match. Black ties are boring anyway. Unless your dress is gonna be black, which in that case, will be cool. Everything kind of depends on your dress now, huh?”
It does. You can hear the crickets chirping as you try to come up with something to say that doesn’t fully embarrass you. Changbin sips on his coffee, and your eyes wander to his sigil again. You feel like you should know what it is, but you can’t exactly place it. In the world’s smoothest transition, you pull out your planner and say, “So finals.”
“Finals.”
The heavy word hangs in the air, but he says nothing more. You flip to your calendar to check your available times. “Should we do weekly study sessions? Or a giant cram session the night before? How do you wanna do it? Is there anything in particular you need help with?”
“I kind of need help with everything?”
“Weekly study sessions then,” you decide as you click your pen. You press it against the page, and a dot of inky black sits across the surface as you wait for confirmation. “Every Thursday at four? We’ll meet here for an hour and go over the material.”
A relieved smile crosses his face. “You’re a lifesaver. This was supposed to be an easy class.”
“You thought Advanced Potions II would be easy?”
He blinks. “Yeah, since one was.”
He’s got a point. You take out your textbook and open to the latest chapter, Night Vision, which makes Changbin groan and you sigh. “C’mon, we have a deal. Don’t you wanna pass the class?”
He relents and listens as you explain the different effects of using belladonna versus tomato as a brewing base. Teaching Changbin is actually quite fun, you discover, since he’s mostly engaged and doesn’t try to undermine your authority by proposing bizarre scenarios that would never happen.
Yes, Minho, this is about you.
It’s also a nice opportunity for you to review the concepts yourself. You buy a pack of sour gummies from the machine and share them with Changbin who appears to be eating them out of politeness rather than enjoyment.
When the hour is over, he offers to walk you back to your dorm since it’s “the prom date thing to do,” but you decline. Jihyo has finished sewing, so you need to stop by her room first. Besides, Changbin’s stomach has started to growl, and you don’t want to keep him from dinner. You’ve learned from San that hungry demons are pissed-off demons.
“I’ll update you about my dress,” you tell him as you try to shove everything back into your backpack in a nonchalant fashion. That crunching sound is definitely one of your notebooks being crushed. “I’m going shopping this weekend, so I’ll probably find one then. And I’ll handle your tie too, so don’t worry about that.”
“Thanks. Good luck.” He waits until you’re ready and walks you to the outer ring of the outcropping. Then he waves and says, “See you next week.”
“See you.”
As you head to Jihyo’s, you realize that Changbin’s actually a really nice person. Demon. Supernatural. Doesn’t matter. Prom with a stranger might be okay after all.
Mina and Chaeyoung accompany you to The Spiderweaver and make you try on a dozen different dresses for their entertainment. Mina looked into her crystal ball, her favorite method of divination because of its clarity, before leaving the Academy and apparently knows which dress you’re going to buy, so why not have some fun? She refuses to tell you which one it is though. Chaeyoung has opted to go for a sleek jumpsuit instead of a gown, so she’s having fun on the sidelines as well.
“What do the cards say?” you jokingly ask her as you delicately peel off the skin-tight mermaid dress. You hope that the next one she hands you is the foggy green one you saw on the website. When you walked in and saw it hanging from the rack, you grabbed it and didn’t bother with anything else. That has to be the one you’re destined to buy.
There’s the sound of a deck of cards being shuffled. “The Empress, so cape dress.”
You swap hangers with her and step into the flowy dress with the sheer cloak attached. The gold adornments are very pretty, and you’re certain the skirt has been imbued with a shimmering charm of some sort since light does not usually reflect like that. You draw the curtain back, revealing your friends’ appreciative faces.
“You look like The Empress,” Chaeyoung comments. She holds up the card, and you certainly do resemble her in your current ensemble. All you need is a crown. “Do you like this one?”
Mina has her secretive smile on, which makes you think twice. However, you ultimately shake your head and point to the green one still on the rack. “C’mon, I know it’s that one. Divination is just instincts, and Naturals have that too. Ask Miss Wang. I’m doing great in tea reading.”
Before Mina can go on her long spiel about the history of diviners, Chaeyoung cuts her off with a laugh. “You’re no fun.”
“You’re no fun,” you call back as you shut the curtain once more.
Cards get shuffled, and Chaeyoung makes a triumphant noise. “The Fool. You’re wrong.” She pauses, then says, “Am I allowed to gloat about being right about your date, or is it too soon?”
“Definitely too soon,” answers Mina. She approaches the edge of the changing stall and sticks her arm in between the wall and curtain, waiting for the exchange. “Try again after prom?”
“Can we not discuss Changbin?” you ask. There’s something a little mortifying that you had to strike a deal with an entity in order to get a date. Your natural charms and innate ingenuity just weren’t exceptional enough, probably to the displeasure of Principal Park. You suppose your intelligence was since you’re going to be studying with him but still. “Did you hear that we might have a Folklore quiz on Monday? Apparently, Chan overheard Miss Bae talking about it when he passed by the faculty room.”
“You’re the only one here taking Honors Folklore,” Mina reminds.
She hands you your foretold dress, and you hurry to put it on. The fabric ripples as you zip it up, and you smooth the silver brocade detailing on the bodice. You’ll need to get it tailored for it to fit properly, but it feels perfect. The incomprehensible noises your friends make when you show it off to them, confirm your beliefs.
“You look amazing!” Mina says. She’s been taking pictures the whole time, but she’s going all in now, making sure to capture you from every angle.
Meanwhile, Chaeyoung holds the Lovers card between her fingers, flashing it every which way. “He’s going to fall head over heels when he sees you in this.”
“We’re not talking about Changbin.”
“I didn’t say anything about him.” She flips the card around and pretends to admire the gilded edges. “You’re putting words into my mouth.”
“There was an implication! Who else would you be talking about?”
“Chan.”
While you sigh, Mina sends you the photos she took, which you send to Changbin so he can match his tie to your dress. Chaeyoung and Mina peer over your shoulder as they await his response. He doesn’t reply within ten seconds, so you end up leaving your friends unattended with your phone as you change back into your normal clothes. You come to a realization why that is a bad idea twenty seconds in and throw on the rest of your clothing in record time. Fortunately, they haven’t done anything disastrous, though Chaeyoung is shuffling through her deck like she’s consulting the cards for what she can do to tip the scales.
“He says you look nice,” Mina informs. Your phone chimes with another message. “And he loves the color, smiley emoji.”
That’s a relief. You’re not sure what you would have done if you didn’t, but that obstacle doesn’t even exist now. He could also be lying, but you’ll pretend that it’s not worrying you.
“The Spiderweaver can make matching ties to dresses, you know,” Chaeyoung says. She puts her deck away and starts gathering the other selections she and Mina picked out. “You can ask at the tailoring station.”
“Did the cards tell you that?” you say.
“No, the sign at the front did.”
She gives you a cheeky smile while you and Mina share exasperated looks with each other. Chaeyoung mouths, “The Lovers,” as she walks away before you can tackle her to the ground.
You know a little bit about tarot. The Lovers isn’t always associated with a romantic outcome; it’s about a choice in a relationship, and right now, you have decided that your darling friend Chaeyoung needs a few bone-crushing hugs.
The chapter after Night Vision is Sun Vision, which greatly confuses you as to why it exists since sunglasses fulfill the same purpose and are significantly less fiddly. It’s a uselessly complex potion, and Changbin is struggling.
“I have to brew a night vision potion before I can make a sun vision one?”
“Yeah. It’s a counter-potion, and counters need the thing it’s supposed to counter.”
He sighs so heavily he knocks over the little origami goat he made in despair. You offer him your mini bag of fruit gummies in sympathy, and he mournfully chews on an artificial strawberry. The upcoming test is a practical one. Based on the stories he has shared with you, Changbin’s practical skills are a smidge above his knowledge.
Much to your chagrin, he shuts his notebook of crossed-out equations. “Let’s talk about prom.”
“This really isn’t the time.”
You haven’t been able to escape discussions of prom, especially since the rumors about the memory potions started circling around. Memory potions are strictly forbidden at the Academy, resulting in expulsion if one is caught, but according to Chan’s werewolf pack, a select group of the top witches has been tasked with a modified version for prom. Jihyo, who tested out of the entire Advanced Potions series and comes from a long line of brewing witches, has become increasingly busy with “work,” and everyone has noticed. As one of her close friends, you have been pestered.
Nevertheless, he asks, “Are we taking pictures? My friend, the same one who sucks at Potions, he’s a photographer.”
It’s a good question, you admit. Do you want to memorialize that night forever? “Yeah, why not? Should we do it in front of the fountain like everyone else does too?”
“Yeah. I heard some of the mermaids talking about making the water iridescent so they can get nice pictures.” Changbin smiles dreamily as if he’s imagining the moment himself. Almost as an afterthought, he adds, “That green color is really nice. I might re-wear the tie for graduation.”
Stars, why are you so flustered by that remark? You have done a lot more mortifying things than for such a simple statement to warrant a reaction like this. You abruptly head to the beverage machine and select the first drink that catches your eye, blueberry soda. It sounds mediocre. At least it’s refreshingly cold.
“How do you feel about white for your corsage?” he asks, unaware of your current state. “I think it’ll match with the silver.”
“Sounds good,” you say as you twist off the metal cap with a pop. If he weren’t here right now, you would press the glass bottle to your flaming cheeks, but alas, he is, so you have to settle for drinking a quarter of the soda. It’s better than you expect. You remember that you have to buy a boutonniere for him as well, and you take another gulp. “Pop quiz: what happens to sun vision if you mix a night vision potion with sunflower oil before you reduce it?”
His hand trails towards his notes, but one pointed look makes him stop. “It increases the effects?”
“Decreases. Everything before reduction gets countered since…”
“Reduction is the first step,” he recites. You’ve been repeating the phrase constantly at him since the session began, but it appears that it hasn’t been embedded into his brain yet. “Potions is so much fun.”
You keep your mouth shut, lest you demoralize him because to you, Potions is fun. Instead, you direct him to the assigned homework problems and guide him through the more difficult ones as you work alongside him. A particularly tricky review question about how Scoville units affect fire resistance causes Changbin to let out a long swear in the Undead Tongue. His horns momentarily catch fire in his frustration.
“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Bad habit.”
You couldn’t care less about all of that. “You’re so fluent,” you blurt out. “I mean, you are a demon, so it’s not surprising, but that was so clean.”
Most Supernaturals learn the Undead Tongue first since it’s still the main language used in old texts and whatnot, but it still impresses you every time. Even with some speech therapy, you can’t quite manage to get the sounds right. And unfortunately, pronunciation is generally important in most spells and rituals. You’re usually exempt from those sorts of exams, but it still sucks that you’re noticeably not good at it.
He smiles, incisors on full display, and thanks you. “It’s nothing. I’m sure you’re pretty good yourself.”
You prove him wrong by parroting the swear back at him. You truly are doing your best, but the presence of him combined with your usual anxiety makes your intonation even worse than normal. Where is Bun-Bun when you need her?
“How was that?” you ask before taking a large swallow of soda. Why did you decide to do that? Really, these last couple of days have just been filled with questionable decisions.
“Better than me and Potions, that’s for sure,” he laughs. “It’s a little rough, but I can understand you.”
He’s being very kind. Mina has gently corrected you a multitude of times when you read aloud, and San simply accepted you butchering the names of prominent demonic texts after two weeks.
“How about this? You only tutor me in the Undead Tongue,” Changbin suggests. “You get some practice, I still get to pass the class. Besides, there’s not usually a lot of people here anyway, so no one will hear you.”
“This is not part of the deal.”
“I’m doing it out of the goodness of my heart.”
You click your pen as you contemplate. You do need the practice, especially since you’re planning to stay within Supernatural society after you graduate. A blush begins creeping up your neck when you ask in the Undead Tongue, “How many Scoville units is pure capsaicin?”
With perfect pronunciation, he correctly answers fifteen million.
Next Thursday’s study session is canceled in favor of a trip to The Spiderweaver. Your dress’s alterations have been completed, and Changbin needs to pick up his rented tuxedo anyway. However, you quiz him on the week’s material. The practical test is tomorrow, and since all of the labs were fully booked, this is the best you can do unless you want to get a demerit for stealing Potions supplies and equipment.
While Changbin tries his tux on one last time, you are on the other side of the curtain, flipping through your flashcards for new questions to ask. You are debating whether it would be cruel to ask him to balance equations with no paper or calculator on hand when he steps out.
He spreads his arms out theatrically and gestures at the properly knotted green tie at his neck. “What do you think?”
You didn’t realize he knew how to do it, so you were fully prepared to help. After an hour of practicing on a very patient Mina, you finally got the hang of it. Now that you’ve seen him in all of his glory, you don’t know if you would have been able to without fumbling. By the moon, the power formal wear holds—he looks very, very good.
With as much nonchalance you can muster, you tell him so. “But maybe you don’t wear sneakers on the actual night,” you hurriedly add to distract yourself. “I mean, you still look great, but you know. Just prom things.”
He kicks his feet up, eyeing his worn-out shoes. The white midsoles are more of a yellow-gray than a true white. “You’re probably right.” With a cheerful grin, he points at the black garment bag hanging on the hook. “Your turn!”
He doesn’t even bother changing out of his outfit first; he just takes your color-coded cards and nudges you into the other side of the curtain. Before you can protest, he shuts it close and asks you to tell him all of the steps of brewing a dehydration potion with a lemon juice base. As you slip inside the dress, you recite every single step, pausing in-between to allow him to check. And because you feel that it is only right that you get to be as dramatic as he was, the moment you name the last step, you pull back the curtain and immediately regret your decision when you realize how much of a femme fatale you appear to be. Nothing against that particular archetype; it’s just not you.
You release your grip on the curtain and sweep back your skirt. “Ta-da,” you shyly say, keeping your eyes on your flashcards. “I got that all right, right? Pronunciation okay?”
“Yeah. You… you look really nice. Like, pretty. Better than the pictures.”
Did Mina’s crystal ball predict this moment too? She saw you in this dress, but flashes of the future don’t always tell a linear story. Surely, she would have said some— No, interfering with the future usually doesn’t change much, so you would have wound up in the same position anyway: flushed and suddenly wondering if Changbin is saying those things because it’s “the prom date thing to do.”
“Yeah, the fit’s a lot better now.” After a pause, you say, “Do you wanna change first?”
“No, you go ahead. I wanna study a little more before you test me again.” He holds up the flashcards and selects an orange one. “What happens if you add peppers to a fire resistance potion before reduction?”
“You made that one up.”
“You know the answer, don’t you?”
You close the curtain and say, “It increases fire susceptibility.”
The triumph in his voice is clear when he replies, “Nope, I didn’t say what kind of pepper. Jalapeños and chili peppers, yes. Bell peppers, no.”
You should feel embarrassed, but a sense of pride wells up in you instead. Last week, he probably wouldn’t have known the difference between bell and chili peppers in potion making, but today he set up a trick question for you. He’s a quick learner. “Nice. You’re definitely up to speed about book-knowledge. Maybe we can find someone willing to split a lab room with us when we get back.”
“Maybe, but hey, I’ve had a good teacher. I think I’ll be fine.”
Somehow, you believe him. Your beliefs prove to be correct because Changbin texts you the next afternoon that he indeed passed the practical exam. With all-caps and multiple exclamation points, you congratulate him and fall back onto your school-issued desk chair with a jubilant squeal.
The following study session is extended because Jihyo needs you for some unknown reason. Actually, you have a pretty good idea what the reason is, but you’re stunned that the school is allowing the secret memory potions to be tested on students. It’s a trap, it has to be.
Nevertheless, you and Changbin grab snacks from the dining hall before meeting Jihyo at one of the research labs at the far back of the campus. She said that he was free to come with you, and you’re becoming more and more grateful for that. Dense forest surrounds the sleek modern building, and an electric generator softly hums in the background. It’s nearly sunset, and orange sun rays paint the walkway with shadows of tree branches, which resemble claws reaching out to snatch at your ankles. There’s nothing dangerous in the Academy except for its occupants, but there’s something unsettling about a secluded experimental zone anyway.
Once inside the safety of the compound, Jihyo hands you a paper cup with what appears to be water. The faint odor, however, confirms that it is not.
“Drink this. I promise it’s safe.”
“Remember when I almost died?”
She waves it off like nothing and gives you an encouraging smile. “That was an accident, and you’re still alive.”
“What about Changbin?” you ask, hoping that he, too, will be forced to participate. In return, he gives you a startled look, like you’ve just betrayed him. “He’s a demon. That has to be helpful.”
“If a Natural can take it, then it’s safe for everyone. I know it is—I double-checked everything, so I just need proof. After ten minutes, you’re free to go until tomorrow. I need to test the memory effects too.”
You warily gulp it down. While you trust her—she’s the best brewing witch the Academy has, with dozens of research institutions and business industries clamoring for her approval—Naturals are vulnerable to quite a bit of things, and you still remember when her now patented Silver Tongue Potion actually turned your tongue silver. It would have simply been an unfortunate side effect had it not also made you temporarily lose your sense of taste. And let’s not forget the time you had a phantom heart attack due to a finicky mixture that seemed to have a life of its own. You didn’t die—hence, phantom—but apparently you got close.
However, this potion seems to be working perfectly. Or at least, nothing horrible is happening.
While you fidget around, toying with the cuffs of your sweater as you prepare yourself in case something does happen, Changbin has a slew of questions for Jihyo. As it turns out, like Minho, he also had tons of bizarre scenarios in mind. He was just kind enough to not subject you to them.
In the midst of answering a question regarding salt crystals, she abruptly says, “That’s one of Jeongyeon’s sigils. For deep sleep, right?”
Your eyes fall to Changbin’s wrist where the faint markings are still visible. No wonder why you didn’t quite recognize it. Jeongyeon’s family has a tendency to create and use their own unique sigils, meaning that they are often not in your textbooks. You also haven’t crossed paths with her magic yet, knowing her only as one of Jihyo’s childhood friends.
“I literally lost sleep over Potions, so I paid her to do it,” he explains. “It’s been about a month, and it still works decently. I don’t really need it now, but it’s nice.”
While the two of them start to delve into the intricacies of your deal with Changbin, you try not to blush at the memory. Changbin recounts you as his savior, his ironic guardian angel. He becomes animated when he mimes the way you dove for the prom invitation, and Jihyo laughs so uproariously that you want to burst into flames. You doubt that’s a side effect of the potion. As you shoot her pleading looks, she gives you a studious once-over before declaring you fine to leave.
“Promise I’ll be okay?” you say. You stick your tongue out at her, and she assures you that your tongue is its normal color. Unaware of the inside joke, Changbin cautiously eyes Jihyo, searching for any signs of malice like he can detect such a thing.
“Of course. Don’t forget to stop by tomorrow. Drop in whenever.” At your visible anxiety, she pops off the cap of the pen in her lab coat and draws a tiny sigil on the inside of her wrist. “This is linked to Bun-Bun. A stress detector, kind of. If she starts glowing red, then I’ll come to you. If I’m not there in time, ask Mina for help. I gave her a few antidotes last year when she was my other guinea pig, but you should be completely fine. Deal?”
What’s worse, a deal with a demon or one with a witch? “Deal.”
When you and Changbin are in sight of the main campus, he asks, “Is Bun-Bun your stuffed rabbit?”
“You’re not gonna ask about the time I almost died?” you say. “But yes, Bun-Bun is my rabbit. If you make fun of me, I’ll…”
“Do nothing about it? Bun-Bun’s a cute name.”
It is, which is why you named her that in the first place, but it feels like teasing from him. You direct your attention to the swath of fallen branches ahead of you, stepping over them with as much as you can. The pine bristles brush against your ankle, and you keep yourself steady. “Prom’s on Saturday.”
He arches an eyebrow. You rarely talk about prom, preferring to pepper him with Potions questions instead, but you continue with the topic anyway when he says nothing. “Are we meeting at the fountain or somewhere else? It might be crowded there, and not to mention, we have to head to the hotel afterward. Should we do pictures tomorrow then? We can still take them at sunset as planned.”
“Saturday at sunset,” he confirms, “and then we’re going to the fast travel station at the main hall.”
He makes you take a detour at the stony outcropping and pauses in front of the vending machines. After a moment’s dilemma, he selects the sour gummies and places the packet into your hand. “Usually, sugar is not what you give to Naturals when they’re jumpy, but you seem like you need it. Jihyo’s a good witch, don’t worry.”
You decide not to mention that he’s only known Jihyo for about ten minutes. You rip open the bag and pop a gummy in your mouth, delightfully grimacing at the flavor. Regular gummies just aren’t as good as these. “I know, but I’d really not end up in the infirmary and miss prom. We have a deal.”
“Hey, if you’re not feeling well, feel free to summon me tonight. I probably won’t be able to help, but you’ll have moral support. Iced coffee, culinary lavender, or just a good old human sacrifice.”
If something does go wrong, he might accidentally receive one. However, you opt to ignore the last bit and hold out your snack. “Want one?”
Tonight is going to be An Unforgettable Night.
The modified memory potions worked so splendidly that you didn’t have to call anyone. When Jihyo tested the effects on Friday morning, you found that you remembered everything that happened with great clarity, minus anything you read for class or studied. How she managed to create a potion with those parameters, you have no idea. Sheer genius? Quite possibly. If she asked, you likely could have told her the exact number of times you checked Bun-Bun for a glowing red light.
Now, Chaeyoung is sitting on your bed, shuffling through her cards while simultaneously peering into Mina’s crystal ball. Her pointy heels peek out of her scarlet jumpsuit, and she annoyedly tucks a loose curl from her updo behind her ear as she leans in closer to the ball.
“It keeps showing me someone else instead of your demon,” she says.
Overwhelmed by the number of prom photo poses recommended by the internet, you only mumble back, “He’s not my demon.” Why are there so many arms around waists? Can an awkward side hug suffice if you don’t know your date all that well?
“Seo Changbin,” she repeats as she gently taps the glass with a fingernail. “C’mon.”
Mina comes out of the bathroom, the smell of hairspray barely masked by a flowery perfume. You look up from your phone and grin at the sight of her in a champagne-colored ball gown. “The Empress is here.”
She goes pink, mutters something about it being the same dress as last year, and then finally notices Chaeyoung staring intently at her crystal ball. Relieved for the diversion, she says, “You know my crystal doesn’t like you. Whose future are you looking into?”
“No one,” you interrupt. Although a part of you wants to know what’s in store for tonight, a larger part prefers to leave the future for the future. Besides, there are a lot of theories about self-fulfilling prophecies for important events, and prom night definitely counts as one. “Do you both wanna go ahead without me? I’m meeting Changbin at the fountain first for pictures.”
They exchange glances. Diviners can’t read minds, but a message has just been passed between them. Luckily, you are well-versed in reading Mina and Chaeyoung.
Mina:We should wait with her and walk her to the fountain to calm her nerves.
Chaeyoung:We should leave her alone with Changbin for as long as possible.
“Let me fix your eyeliner before we go,” Chaeyoung finally says as she sits you down on your desk chair. You’re unsurprised; she usually wins the staring contests.
“It can’t be that bad,” you reply as you double-check your reflection on your phone screen. “I bought a spell card for my makeup. Yeah, it looks fine.”
“Naturals have a tendency to make spells not work.”
A valid point. The unnaturalness of a Natural using magic usually leads to spells gone awry, weird, or wrong, but your eyeliner looks perfect. When you scan the room for any signs of trickery, you find Mina with her crystal ball, and Chaeyoung fans out her cards in front of your face like she can help you unsee. “Guys!”
“I won’t tell you,” Mina assures, “or anyone else. I just wanted to make sure you would be safe.”
It’s a flimsy excuse because you know the true one is that they’re nosy, but for your sanity, you accept it. They soon leave. Mina smiles assuredly, but that doesn’t relieve your anxieties.
You were the first to change for the night, so that leaves you some time to pace around and practice pinning Changbin’s white boutonniere onto Bun-Bun. Occasionally your phone chimes with updates from your friends—Mina and Chaeyoung have arrived, Jihyo is handing out memory potions alongside the senior witches, and Changbin is on his way.
At the last message, you walk from your dorm room to the fountain, which really has been dyed iridescent. Two mermaids pose at the bottom, the mist of the water creating little rainbows with the sunset. Your date and your photographer are waiting for you beneath the large tree nearby. There’s a black case in Changbin’s hands, and for a delusional second, you think he’s planning to propose marriage to you. Then you take note of Changbin himself, and stars above, if you were the swooning type, you would swoon.
He has always been good-looking, but he is devilishly handsome in his black suit and not-sneakers. His hair is styled but still retains its usual softness, and that small detail keeps him Changbin, your Potions study buddy and not Changbin, the Supernatural is obligated to go to prom with you.
You can’t get out the right words to compliment him, so you have to make do with raising your eyebrows and gesturing at him. He laughs, spinning around so you can take in all of him. As he comes to a stop, his eyes dance like fire.
“You look incredible,” he says in the Undead Tongue, like it’s a secret only the two of you know. After a breath, he nods at the person dressed in a navy suit and a camera bag. “This is Seungmin, who sucks at being a witch but is passable as a photographer.”
“I specialize in charms and hexes,” Seungmin corrects. “Nice to meet you. Now, not to ruin the moment, but I’ve got other couples to shoot after you, so if we could get going, that would be great.”
He’s all business, which you appreciate because you would be fretting over every little decision. As predicted, the fountain is a very popular spot for photos, so he has you two remain under the tree instead while he snaps candids. A crowd waiting for the fountain spectates the affair. It’s beginning to feel a bit like a proposal.
Changbin ties your corsage of white roses and star-shaped buds to your wrist, taking care not to rustle any of the flowers. His sleeping sigil flexes as he knots the bow, and you are so entranced by the way it moves that you nearly miss his inquiry.
“Do you like it?” he repeats. “If you don’t, I can probably get Seungmin to charm it into something else.”
“No! I love it,” you assure him a little too loudly. Stars, people are watching. “I was just lost in my thoughts. The little star ones are pretty, and the green leafy parts match us. You did a great job. Honestly, the one I got for you isn’t nearly as nice, but I did try my best to—”
“What’s the base for a cloud breath potion?”
“Dry ice,” you automatically answer, though you are confused. Cloud breath isn’t being covered until another week, and as far as you can tell, Changbin has been diligent keeping up with class, not staying ahead of it. “Why the sudden question?”
“Because it’s your turn.”
He points at his bare lapel, and you open your clutch for the box that holds his flowers. You weren’t trying to deflect when you said his boutonniere wasn’t as nice. It’s made of white roses as well, but the baby’s breath and greenery are simple compared to what he got you. When he compliments it, your fingers slip. The flowers are spared from any accident, but you are left gripping Changbin’s lapel like you’re about to pull him in for a kiss. Quickly and without any ceremony, you finish pinning the boutonniere and step away with your hands clasped in front of you. Someone wolf whistles, not at you, but the sudden noise makes you want to hide.
“Should we go?” he whispers, glancing at the onlookers and your flustered state. “It’s probably better if we’re not late, right?”
As much as you would rather leave, you can’t. “But you were so excited about the fountain. We can wait, I don’t mind.”
“Seungmin’s gonna be busy anyway.”
He’s dejected. He hides it well with poise and rationality, but there’s a layer of disappointment coating his words. Suddenly feeling brave, you ignore your instincts and take his hand. “Let’s come back when prom’s over then. The fountain’s gonna look dozens of times better at night. Everything does.”
When he smiles, you learn exactly how well you like those pointy teeth of his now.
Prom lives up to its theme, and not simply because of the memory potions, though they do help. The hotel ballroom has been decorated to reflect the luxuries of the world, from the possibly real diamonds hanging in strands from the ceiling to the multitude of gems that form the compass on the floor. With the bright lights in your eyes, you wonder if this is why sun vision potions were invented. Sunglasses would destroy your look, but this level of illumination may destroy your eyesight.
But as stunning as the venue is, the event itself is boring. You and Changbin mill around the edges of the dance floor, pointing out the hidden treasures in the room to each other and saying hello to friends. Judging by the way they duck into different groups, Chaeyoung and Mina are intent on avoiding you tonight, only communicating by text. Though Changbin notices this, he says nothing and introduces you to his friends instead. San, as it turns out, is actually his friend, so you really could have begged him for Changbin’s number if needed all those weeks ago.
When a slow dance number comes on, courtesy of the magical birds in the golden cages hovering in the air, you are tempted to ask Changbin for a dance. It’s the prom thing to do, isn’t it?
“I think your flowers got crushed,” you tell him, heart pounding so loudly that every werewolf in the vicinity can probably hear it. “Let me…”
He stands still for you as you try to breathe some life into the singular sprig of baby’s breath that’s beginning to wilt. If you were a witch, you could have literally done so, but propping it upright against a rose is the best you can do. Then you move the greenery around to conceal the gap made. Is it strange that you can feel your heartbeat in your fingers?
Yeah, definitely.
“All good now,” you say. You awkwardly pat his lapel, realize exactly what you’re doing, and quickly retract your hand as your face heats up. Changbin works out. A lot.
“Thanks.” He scans the ballroom, his gaze lingering on the dance floor crowded with couples, once more before asking, “I thought prom would be more fun than this.”
“Me too.”
“You wanna go then? We can go to the fountain and then head to San’s afterparty.”
The idea of an afterparty makes you hesitant, and a flurry of excuses rushes to mind, ranging from “I’m tired” to “My friends imposed a curfew on me to make sure I don’t do anything too debaucherous and get kicked out a month before graduation.” If anything, they would rather you stay out all night with Changbin. Chaeyoung’s card of the Lovers flashes behind your eyes, but you push it away.
“I’m not really a party person,” you slowly begin, “but I’m still down for the picture.”
He tries to convince you to come along, promising it’ll be fun, but eventually accepts your decision. However, he does make you agree to let him walk you back to your dorm because it’s “the prom date and gentle-demon thing to do.” The phrase has apparently been upgraded.
There’s no one at the fountain, which is still iridescent under the light of the moon, glittering like ground diamonds. Bracing yourself for the inevitable chill, you dip your hand into the water just to make sure it is real. Everything truly does look better at night.
Unfortunately, your initial plan has a flaw: no photographer. That results in a quick selfie, followed by you constructing a stand out of the rocks and branches littering the area around. You wouldn’t trust putting your phone on it, but Changbin doesn’t seem to care. While you remain in front of the fountain, moonlit water misting the back of your dress, he sets a timer and runs back to you, draping an arm around your shoulder just in time. Then he goes back to set another.
The second time, he says something to you, but you can’t hear him over the sound of the water. The moment you glance at him, the shutter goes off.
“Sorry, what did you say?” you ask.
Changbin looks at you now. If you tilt your head just right, the crescent moon fits neatly in the space between his horns, like it’s suspended above his head. Transfixed by the image, you barely register his reply: “I asked if you wanted to dance.”
The shutter goes off again, and you realize that he must have set it to burst mode. You resume a more posed position, and he does as well. He speaks through a smile. “So, you wanna dance? I think I owe you that at least.”
Your heart begins pounding again, and this time you have nothing to distract you. “Here?”
“Where else? Unless you actually do want to go to that party.”
No matter how hopeful he sounds, you do not. This is your only chance now, so with one last smile for the camera, you say, “Sure.”
The song he’s playing from his phone isn’t even close to audible, but swaying back and forth with Changbin to the music of a bubbling fountain and faint bat screeches may be the most romantic thing you’ve experienced. The delicate distance between your bodies makes your intertwined fingers feel illicit. You can hardly bring yourself to look at his face. He hums a melody, perhaps from the song he chose, and spins you around, catching you in surprise. A star-shaped bud falls into the water in the commotion. When you’re back in his arms, you softly say to the empty space beside him, “Thanks for being my date.”
“It was my pleasure.”
You wait for him to say something about helping him study for Potions, but he simply leaves it at that. Idle conversation feels out of place, so you add nothing else. You listen to his humming, watch the stars shift as you slow dance, and feel the warmth of his hand in yours. For once, you feel serene in his presence, not a hint of blush threatening to bloom. You don’t want the moment to end.
But all good things must, so you pull away when Changbin’s melody stops. He sighs but keeps close. “You sure you don’t wanna go to the party?”
“You can tell me all about it on Thursday.”
“C’mon, let’s get you back.” Though unnecessary, he holds his arm out for you, and you accept it since the night is scary and so you can savor the dance for a little longer. Your memory of tonight will be crystal clear tomorrow morning and forever, but there’s something special about now, when the world is still enchanted and when you’re still bewitched by its spell.
The walk back to your dorm is quiet, with only the sounds of footsteps against stony pathing as company. The night strips away the outer layers of people, both Supernaturals and Naturals. What made you daring three weeks ago, makes you modest this evening. Changbin has changed too. He typically always has something to say, no matter how insignificant. It’s only when he drops you off at your door does he finally speak: “Say good night to Bun-Bun for me.”
“I will. Have fun at the party.”
“Thanks. Good night.”
He leans in like he’s about to leave you a parting gift on your cheek but stops before he can get too close. Instead, he waits until you’ve fished your room key from your clutch and waves goodbye. As you shut the door, the hallway light falls in the space between his horns like another moon. It oddly reminds you of a halo this time, and you stifle a giggle at the irony.
Bun-Bun waits for you on your bed. You pat her head three times in greeting and relay Changbin’s message to her. As expected, she stares blankly back. After a moment’s hesitation and after ensuring that Mina and Chaeyoung aren’t hiding in the room somewhere, you recount the night to her, caressing the petals of your corsage’s roses as your heart pulses at every detail of the dance.
Thursday is weird. You hoped that you and Changbin would fall back into the usual pattern, but prom has made it difficult. He tells you about San’s party with much enthusiasm, possibly more than needed for what sounds like a bunch of tipsy people making pancakes in the middle of the night. He did mention a fire though, so maybe that’s why. Either way, a normal conversation is hard, even with an arsenal of sour gummies, blueberry soda, and Potions flashcards.
You’re flipping through your textbook, trying to find the exact volume of dry ice required for a cloud breath potion, when Changbin abruptly asks, “What are you doing after graduation?”
You haven’t thought about graduation in a while, but you’ve had post-grad plans since the beginning of the year. “Working for Jihyo’s family.”
He sounds surprised. “You’re not going to a Natural university or something?”
“No, I like doing this more. And they made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
If you were a witch, they likely would have offered an apprenticeship, but since you have no magical ability, you’ll be doing research for their family business and if your earlier incident with Jihyo is any indication, acting as a part-time guinea pig. While that last part isn’t ideal, working under a Park brewing witch is a huge resumé booster, especially as a Natural in Supernatural circles. Companies will be knocking on your door the moment you decide to leave, if you ever. Besides, the salary is really, really good. If you ever decide to go into academia, they promised that they would help fund your education, so really, how could you not work for them?
“What about you?” you ask. “Have you got a demonic kingdom to run like San?”
He shakes his head. “I’m gonna be a deal broker. Answer summons daily, make contracts, get paid in human sacrifices and money.”
How nice that demons now want sacrifices and money. If you ever need to summon one again, you’ll keep that in mind. “Well, you’ve got some practice with me already. If you ever need me to, I can write you a rec letter.”
He looks at the blank piece of paper he means to use for homework like he’s considering asking you to write him one now. You pick up your pen and diligently wait, but he just smiles wryly.
“I think I’ll be okay for now, but I’ll hit you up if I ever need one. And if you ever need special potion ingredients or a test subject, then feel free to summon me. No more lavender now though, just coffee.”
“What kind? Is it still iced coffee?”
He looks surprised that you remember. “Yeah. Put it in a potion bottle so I know it’s you and won’t decline the call.”
“Will do. Now,” you say, turning back to your beloved textbook, “back to studying. How much dry ice is needed for a cloud breath potion base?”
“50 milliliters.”
You finally turn to the correct page, and it is indeed 50 milliliters. As you jot it down, you tease, “Someone knows their stuff. Have you considered going into the potions business?”
“Yeah”—grinning, he stretches his arms over his head and around—“I did since I have a great tutor and all, but the lack of sacrifices made me rethink it.”
You crack open your bottle of soda, praying that the cold drink tempers how warm you are. You’re going to miss having a study partner when you start working. No more free compliments, no more fun moments like this.
Finals has approached, which means every student on campus is in a frenzy, and you are no exception. You split the weekend with Chan for Honors Folklore and Changbin. Folklore is right before Potions, and you’re less confident in that subject, so while you review Potions concepts with Changbin, you’re also skimming through the numerous texts you’re supposed to know by heart. The tales about werewolves and witches you’ve heard many times since Chan adores debunking them and since witch stories are one of the most prolific ones in the Natural world, but the alleged hierarchy of the faerie courts is driving you mad. Nearly everything is wrong, so it’s like learning fake history.
“… lung expansion?”
It takes a second for you to process Changbin’s words. “Two minutes?” you guess, hoping that he’s asking about duration. He asked about the effects of a lung expansion potion earlier.
“Yes, but only because you know my pattern of questions. Should we end early? You look stressed.”
You furiously shake your head. “I’m always stressed. Sorry, I’m just freaking out about Monday. It’s mostly short answer questions, but there’s an essay portion at the end, and there’s so much to memorize and so many things to get mixed up, so I’m pretty sure everything will muddle together, and I really don’t want to fail.” You shove your texts to the side and take a deep breath, inhaling the sweet smell of the evergreen trees.“What potions must be brewed during the full moon?”
“Any werewolf-related ones, like wolf suppression or enhancement.” When he sees your strained nod of approval, he reassures, “You’re gonna be fine, I know so.”
“That’s what you said about me booking a lab, and here we are.”
The Potions final consists of brewing three randomly chosen potions and testing them on yourself. If all three work as intended, you get full marks. If only two are successful, then you pass. One success or no success results in failure.
As expected, the moment the format was announced, everyone rushed to reserve a lab, and with the number of claws and hexes flying around, you never stood a chance. You thought demons were at the top of the Supernatural food chain, so maybe Changbin would be able to intimidate his way into getting a lab, but alas, no one is afraid of them anymore. Or they’re more afraid of failing, which is understandable.
“Is Potions the only class you’re worried about?” you ask.
“Pretty much. Siren Song should have been really difficult in theory, but music and composition just click for me, and the teacher’s lenient on grading. Guaranteed 100 for me.”
You wish you had his self-assurance. Maybe you should find Jeongyeon and pay her to draw a sigil on you as well, perhaps one for confidence. You scan Changbin’s hand for his sleeping sigil, but it has completely faded away now. Nonetheless, you watch it anyway as he reaches for a gummy. Though he won’t admit it, you’re pretty sure that he likes them now. You decidedly like him less when he asks you to recite all of the steps fo
“Wazzup,” he replies, emerging from the couch with his nose still in his phone. You sniffle a laugh as you tuck away your shoes and walk up to him.
“Jisung~” you call again. At last, he looks up. When he sees what you are holding in your hands, he nearly drops his phone.
“W-what are these? Did someone else buy you flowers?”
You shake your head and thrust the bouquet towards your boyfriend. “I bought them myself. They’re for you.”
“M-me?” he stutters, still confused. “But I’m a man!” Despite his words, a smile sneaks onto his face as he takes the arrangement into his embrace.
“So?” you shrug, heading for his restroom.
When you come out, you find him still standing in the foyer staring and sniffing at the flowers. A grin splits your face as you skip up to him and snake your arms around his waist. You rest your chin on his shoulder and peer down at the bouquet for yourself. “Do you like them?”
Your presence seems to pull him out of his trance.
“Yeah. Yeah, I do. They remind me of you.”
Lee Felix
Felix walks into the room, surprised to see his wife already under the covers. However, you seem to be on the wrong side of the bed.
“Switching things up?” he asks, changing into sleepwear.
You shake your head and roll to your side once he is ready for bed.
“Hmm,” he hums contently. “Nice and toasty.” Then the realization hits him. He looks over to you with a growing smile. “Were you here to warm up the spot for me? Because I had that shoot in the snow today?”
You nod shyly, and his smile reaches its maximum. He opens his arms and you quickly crawl into them.
“Here, let me warm you up too.”
Kim Seungmin
He lays down on the couch and pulls on his Eeyore onesie to get a little more comfortable. Why did he agree to chaperone his cousin’s girl scout outing when he isn’t allowed to share a bedroom with anyone?
“Are you asleep?”
He knows why. He sits up on the couch and sees you, the troop’s leader, in your Piglet onesie, rubbing your eyes. You must have been finishing checking up on your girls and didn’t realize that you don’t need to on him.
“Just about to,” he replies.
“Do you need anything?” Your speech is between a mumble and a slur. It’s been a long day, and he wonders if you are even awake enough to realize who you’re actually talking to.
“A good night kiss?” he jokes.
“Okay.” You stumble over, and before he can even react, you grab his head and leave a peck on his crown. Alright. You definitely don’t realize who he is. Are you even awake, or just sleepwalking?
When you pull back, he stares at you with full-blown eyes. You’re grinning goofily and grabbing the ends of Eeyore’s ears, swinging them to and fro.
“Cute,” you giggle, and he goes beet red.
Yang Jeongin
It’s a lazy Sunday. You’re in bed, scrolling through your phone with your cat napping on your chest. Your husband walks through the door, and you lift your eyes to greet him
“Hi— Why do you look suspicious?”
Suddenly, his lips split into a wide grin. Before you even realize what’s happening, he’s grabbed the cat and bolted out of the room. A loud “meow” can be heard from the kitchen followed by rapid approaching footsteps. Your husband reappears and olympic dives into bed, burying his head where the cat had been. Of course, the feline is not far behind. She jumps up next to you and swats at Jeongin’s face.
“No,” he pouts, pushing her away. “She’s mine.”
You laugh and kiss his hair which makes him hum. “Was that necessary?”
“Of course,” he coos at your touch.
You give him another kiss. Secretly though, you are rubbing the cat behind the ears and tucking her under your other arm.
Description: Y/N and Jisung finally grew to love each other after their arranged marriage. However, not every marriage gets a happily ever after. Sequel to Even If Things Were Different.
Warning:miscarriage
Word Count: 1.9k
Pairing:fem!reader x Han Jisung
“THAT’S MY WIFE! THAT’S MY WIFE! PLEASE, I— THAT’S MY WIFE!”
Jisung thrashes and thrashes, but the police firmly hold him back. People are talking over radios and cars are honking in traffic on the other lanes, but he can still hear every rock your gurney rolls over and every puff of air they squeeze into your lungs. He can barely see you through the swarms of first responders and reporters though. All he can see is your limp arm hanging off the stretcher, your wedding ring staining with blood.
“Please. Please! That’s my wife,” he wails. “That’s my wife. Y/N! Please. Y/N!”
Jisung walks down the hall, looking at the cup of tea in his hands. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots some flashing lights that make him jump and all the hairs on his back stand up.
“Y/N.”
His heart is still pounding in his ears from the scare, but he soon realizes the lights are just from a Christmas tree twinkling in the corner. He sighs and shakes his head before continuing on his way, his shoes clicking against the white tiles with every step.
He slides the door to your room open. The humidifier hums softly. The sheets are spread smoothly over your body. A select stack of books sit neatly on the coffee table.
It’s quiet.
He walks over and places the cup on your nightstand. You are turned away from him, and he can’t tell if you are actually sleeping.
“It’s chamomile.”
No response.
He sighs and crawls under the sheets. He wraps his arm around your waist and gently rubs circles on your belly. The skin still resembles an orange peel with all its bumps and crevices.
“I love you,” he whispers.
He feels you curl up ever so slightly at his words. So you are awake.
“This doesn’t change anything.” He uncurls you so you lay a bit more flush against his chest. You haven’t washed your hair in days, but he still closes his eyes and snuggles his nose into it. He hopes you can feel a second heartbeat in your body again if he holds himself close enough to you.
How did this happen? It’s Christmas Eve. It’s supposed to be merry and bright, so how. How did this happen?
It was supposed to be a short errand. You were just going to pick up some extra ribbons to wrap up the pacifiers you were going to give your and his parents. Now, there is no more use for those gifts.
He would wish for a Christmas miracle, but there is no point. It’s not as if what has been taken out can go back in. Now, he just wishes you’d talk to him and eat something. He’s never seen you stop for anything—not when you had to get married or even when you threw up every morning—but now you’ve come to a complete halt. It’s so hard to see you like this, and it scares Jisung so much, he hasn’t even had time to cry yet.
“It’s not your fault.” He knows his words are futile, but he has to say them anyway.
You, of course, remain motionless. He sighs again and lets his mind wander. If anything, it’s his fault. He should have been there. Who would let a woman in your condition drive at night? Sure, it was just a five minute commute, but anything could happen in five minutes, and something did. It’s his fault the hope you’ve been holding onto for five months is now gone. It’s his fault you are now like this. He’s killed your and his dreams. He’s killed the what-if’s. All that’s left now are memories.
He remembers the day you told him the news. You were a little nervous; you weren’t sure how he’d react. He remembers you were happy though. No, that’s an understatement. You were overflowing with so much joy, you could barely contain yourself. Usually, you were calm and composed. That day though, he could tell something was special the moment he stepped through the door.
You greeted him with a smile that made his stomach flutter away.
“I made lemonade,” you told him. You said it like you made Forbes’ front cover. “Would you like some?”
“Sure,” he replied.
“Great. Meet me in the kitchen.”
He did as told, sliding into one of the chairs by the counter as you pulled out two tall glasses from the cupboard. You set them down on the marble and turned back around to bring out a smaller glass which you set between the first two.
Jisung looked at you curiously. You began filling the two taller glasses with lemonade, eyes flicking up every other second to read his expression. Finally, when you were done, you took his hand and guided it to pour some of the juice from his glass into the smaller one. You then took your glass and poured some of that into the smaller cup. After that, you sat down with your fingers laced in front of you, watching as his brows knit together as he tried to figure out what just happened.
You giggled the second you saw the realization hitting him. First, his eyes grew impossibly big and his jaw dropped to the ground. Then he looked at you to confirm his suspicions.
“Is it— Are you— Is there a—!” He couldn’t finish a sentence, and you couldn’t control your giggles.
“Yes, I am.”
He leapt across the table and screamed of joy as he swung you around. He put you down quickly though and took a step back. “No wait. I can’t do that anymore. You’re carrying precious cargo now.”
You laughed and pulled him into a hug. “Are you happy?”
“So much so. So incredibly much so,” he hummed. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
You turned your head to rest your ear against his racing heart. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” His emotions rolled into a tear that trickled down his face.
He wonders if it was all a dream. He wonders if happiness only exists inside dreams. He didn’t even realize he had fallen asleep until the lights from the window made him grimmance.
“—ung! Jisung!”
His eyelids fly open at the sound of your panicked voice. He looks and sees you sitting up, your hand reaching out for him and your face etched with worry.
“Y-Y/N, you’re sitting—”
“Are you okay?” you ask.
He nods, too stunned to make a noise.
You sigh in relief and collapse back down, facing him this time. “You were shaking and crying. I thought something was wrong. I thought I was going to lose you too. I thought… I thought…”
“Shh, shh, shh.” He draws you close again.
“You’re alright, right?” Your voice is muffled against him. “You promise? You aren’t going to leave me behind too, right?”
“I’ll always be by your side. I promise,” he assures you. “I just had a dream.”
You nod against his chest and sniffle.
“How are you feeling?”
“Dizzy.” Of course, you went on full flight-or-fight mode after being on an IV drip for almost a week. Still, you replied, and Jisung feels a huge wave of relief wash through him.
“You really love me, don’t you?” he chuckles.
“Of course,” you mumble.
“And I really love you.”
You pause for a minute, and he panics, thinking he’s pushed you too far. Finally though, in a small voice, you say, “But I lost her.”
He shakes his head. “It’s not—”
“No, but it is!” He can hear the panic rising again in your voice. “I was driving! I should have seen the headlights. I should have swerved lanes. On impact, I should have protected her more. I should have done something. Don’t you see? I lost her. Me.”
He grabs your hands and forces you to look into his eyes to slow you down. He has on a scowl, and he speaks firmly and pointedly. “Welost her. There’s things you could have done differently. There’s things I could have done differently. There’s things that no one could have possibly done differently. But the fact of the matter is, this is our reality, and we’re going to face it together. I won’t let you go through this alone, so Y/N, don’t make me go through it alone either, okay?”
You pause for another minute. This time, he knows you are thinking about his words. When you seem to have come to a conclusion, you drop your head back onto him. He then feels you drawing something on his back. Your signature, he realizes, to this agreement. Perhaps there is still room for a little Christmas miracle after all.
Christmas eve. It’s been just over a year now since the accident. Jisung raises a brow when you walk into the living room in a red sweater. Red. It’s a sign of life and a sign of celebration. The last time you were seen with that color was when you were in the back of an ambulance. In fact, that was the last time you were seen wearing any color.
You sit up straight with your knees pressed together and your hands folded in your lap. In other words, you are sitting much too properly for a couch in your own home.
“Y/N?” Jisung calls carefully. “What’s the matter, love?”
“I’m… I’m scared.”
He uncrosses his legs and sits up too. “Why? What’s wrong?”
You look down at your lap then at him. “I’m scared to hope. I’m scared something will go wrong again. I’m scared to hurt you.”
He scoots next to you and wraps his arm around your shaking torso. You look so small under his arm. He wraps his other hand around the front and shields you with his body. Gently, he rubs his thumbs over your skin, letting his actions speak the words his lips cannot.
You take a long moment to absorb his strength before you’re able to hand him a rectangular gift box about the length of his hand.
“Merry Christmas,” you barely squeak.
He takes it while still keeping an arm around you. He looks at the box, then at you, then at the box. Finally, he lifts off the top cover.
He doesn’t react as he stares at what’s inside. After an eternity, he sets the present aside and turns so that he is completely facing you. He takes your hands and looks you square in the eyes.
“The doctor said there’s an increased risk after what happened,” you ramble, nervous under his sudden gaze. “What if—”
He cuts you off. “Hope. Please, hope. Hope, and be happy. Be happy knowing you can hope, and hope because you know there is love supporting that hope. No matter what—”
“—I love you,” you finish for him.
He smiles and nods. You smile too and wrap your arms behind his waist.
“Do you like your present?” you ask.
The fireplace crackles. “I love it. Thank you.”
You hum and close your eyes, falling asleep. Jisung brushes the hair from your face and plants a kiss on your temple. Outside, a bright star twinkles over the house.
Description: Running into your high school classmate sure wasn’t in your plans for your business trip, and neither was sleeping on the terminal floor. Maybe his warm smile is enough to make you forgo more than just travel plans.
Warning: none
Word Count: 3.4k
Pairing:fem!reader x Bang Chan
“Good afternoon. May I interest you in one of our reds to— Y/N?”
You look up from your cold laptop to the flight attendant who had just gasped your name and see a dashing young man with blond hair, smiling warmly at you. “Yes, that’s me. How did you know?”
He chuckles and shifts the drink menu to his other arm. Below you, the jet engines rumble. “My name’s Chan. We took calculus together in high school.”
“Ah, I’m sorry. I don’t—”
“Don’t worry. I didn’t expect you to remember me. About the drinks, would you prefer a glass of apple juice instead? You always had a box in class.”
“I would, please. You have a good memory, Chan.”
He smiles knowingly, and you wonder what is going through his mind. He tells you, “You were the only junior in a senior class. It made you pretty memorable,” but you feel like that isn’t it.
While you try to read him, a loud “ding” echoes through the cabin, and the seatbelt sign illuminates. Before anyone can react, however, the plane lurches to the side, sending everyone flying the opposite way. With quick reflexes, Chan reaches over and grabs your shoulder before you can hit your head on the side panel.
“T-thank you,” you stutter with shock.
He draws back his arm. “You’re welcome. I’ll be back with that juice as soon as I can.”
You nod and he turns to leave, checking on the other passengers as he does so.
“Wow, he’s hot,” you hear the seat in front of you whisper as he passes by.
You watch Chan’s back until he disappears behind the curtains. Unarguably, he’s attractive. You wonder how he was in high school, but you know going through your memory is futile. All you did in high school was try to stay awake through all the coursework, tutoring, and etiquette lessons your parents put you through. You were ‘new money,’ but your parents were adamant you did not present yourself that way. You look at the signature on the bottom of the email you are working on. “L/N Y/N, Director.” It was worth it, you decide.
Chan delivers your juice as promised and moves on to the passenger in front of you. Despite a few hiccups in the plane’s flight, he maintains a steady stance.
“Good afternoon. May I interest you in one of our reds today? Or perhaps a chardonnay?”
“Hmm,” she ponders, “I’ll take a Domaine Leroy served with a plate of your number.”
Chan laughs politely, unflinched. “The cheese here is much better; trust me.”
You snifflea laugh too and look up just in time to see Chan sliding his eyes to steal a glance at you. He quickly shoots you a smile before he goes to fulfill the request.
The plane keeps bumping along, but the turbulence is manageable enough for the staff to keep moving around. After a few more emails and approving some documents, you decide to take a quick nap. After all, you never know when clients from another time zone are going to wake you up in the middle of the night. You fasten your seatbelt, zip up your laptop, and…
… your eyelids close before you even know it. Just before you completely drift off to slumberland, you feel something tickling your chin. You don’t even bother with it and let your head roll off to the side.
Your eyes fly open as you suddenly feel weightless before being slammed back down onto your seat. Someone screams, and luggage crash together.
“This is your captain speaking. This is your captain speaking,” the overhead announcer broadcasts. “We are facing some dangerous weather right now that has compromised the aircraft, and will be forced to land as soon as possible at the nearest airport. We apologize for the inconvenience. Please fasten your seatbelts and remain calm. Press the attendant button only in case of an emergency.”
Confused and frightened murmurs come from all around. You look down to check on your belongings and find a blanket tucked under your chin. That’s odd. You don’t recall pulling out your blanket, but there isn’t much time to think about that right now. You pack everything back into your carry-on and swallow a knot as another lurch of the plane sends your heart racing. Are you going to die here? If you died, what would become of your parents? It’s not like they have another heir, and all these years they spent cultivating you would go down the drain. And your clients. The business will definitely take a hit if its director passes so unexpectedly. Fear grips your stomach as you grip your armrest.
Suddenly, there’s a hand on yours.
“You alright?” It’s Chan. You had seen him earlier calming down a passenger who was furious about the delay.
“Yes, just a bit startled,” you reply, controlling your breathing.
He nods. “Push the attendant button if you need anything. I’ll keep an eye out for your call light.”
You thank him, and he returns to his jump seat just as the plane lurches violently again.
The landing takesover an hour, but at last, you finally feel the security of the ground. Still then, your heart races as the boarding bridge echoes demonically with every clap of thunder and every pelt of rain.
It doesn’t seem like the weather will let up anytime soon, so with a sigh, you find the nearest seat and pull out your computer. Turns out, the nearest seat is at a bar, and almost too cinematically, a man approaches you as soon as you sit down.
“All alone, pretty thing?” he asks.
At least he is no son of anyone important, you note. There is no need for you to entertain him.
“I prefer to stay that way,” you respond curtly.
He snorts. “Cheeky. A business woman, aren’t you?” he observes, looking you up and down. “You know how to hold your own in a man’s world.”
You sigh. “Please just leave. I would prefer it if things did not get complicated.”
“Oh?” He reaches a hand towards you. “Complicated how?”
You grab your belongings and duck under his arm and begin walking away, but he has the audacity to grab you by your collar. You whip around, fire in your eyes, and are about to give you what he has coming until someone beats you to it.
The tug on your shirt suddenly disappears, and a figure appears between you and the man. The newcomer has the predator’s arms raised above his head.
Chan turns his head back to you. “You alright?”
You nod, too dumbfounded to say anything.
“Who are you?” the stranger bellows.
“A staff of this airport, and I will not have you causing a disturbance to our patrons.”
“You!” he grunts as he tries to bring down his arms, but Chan holds them still with just one hand. After several attempts, Chan finally lowers them for him slowly with a dangerous smile on his face.
“Now, off you go,” Chan says, giving him a slight shove out of the bar.
The man curses at the two of you but ultimately leaves.
“Thank you,” you say to your former classmate.
“It was nothing,” he insists.
“Still, let me buy you a drink,” you offer. “Oh! Are you allowed to drink on the clock?”
“We don’t know when we can be in the air again, so I better not,” he agrees. “But, there are a few secret drinks at this bar that won’t hurt.”
“Secret?”
He winks at you then turns to the bartender. “Hey, Sana!”
The server looks his way, and he tugs on his tie twice before holding up two fingers.
“I have a lot of layovers here,” he explains. “This bar has some of the best mocktails.”
“Good thing I ran into you then.”
“Same here. Really.” The same unreadable look from earlier passes his face. “Say, how’s life been since high school? Looks like you’ve been doing well for yourself.”
“Just trying to keep my father’s company alive,” you reply. “I’m actually on my way to meet a client right now.”
“Oh! Look at you, being successful. How about a boyfriend? Kids?” he says jokingly, lightly nudging you with his shoulder.
The bartender places a cup of something light brown in front of you which you stir distractedly. “Probably a fiancé soon.”
“Oh.” You barely catch the difference in his tone between this “oh” and the last. “Who’s the lucky guy?”
“I don’t know. Someone Mother will find, I guess.”
His face contorts into a pained frown. “I’m sorry,” he says.
“What about you?” you divert the topic. “How is traveling around the world?”
“It’s the dream,” he answers, relaxing his posture. “I didn’t do so well in high school unlike you, so I’m super grateful I found my calling among the birds.”
You can’t help but laugh. “What do you mean, ‘unlike me?’”
“Didn’t you rank first in your class? Even against Chohunwho had like four tutors?”
“You really have good memory, Chan. How do you remember even the junior class rankings?”
“Well, you just stood out because of calcand your apple juice,” he lies. “Besides, Chohun would not stop talking about his tutors and his academic achievements. It was a great day when test results came out and you came out on top.”
“I was just lucky,” you wave your hand. “I think he had a cold or something during midterms.”
“You’ve always been so humble,” he murmurs quietly.
You aren’t sure you heard him correctly. “Sorry?”
He smiles. “Try the drink! It’s good; I promise.”
You do as told, bringing the straw between your lips, and light up as soon as the flavors hit your tongue. “It’s good!” you exclaim.
He looks pleased by your reaction. “It’s honey hibiscus iced tea. I thought it would suit your sweet tooth.”
“It does,” you assure him. “A bit of sweetness is just what I needed in the middle of this storm.” Turning to the gloomy window, you ask. “Do you think we will be able to fly tonight?”
“I’m not sure,” he admits. “I’ve heard of only one forced landing before, and it wasn’t nearly as bad as this. Thinking about what you might do if we stay the night is probably smart.”
“My assistant already booked me a suite. I’d rather not have to use it though.”
“You rich people,” he chuckles. The ice in his cup clinks against the glass.
“Everyone’s doing it. She said she barely got me a room.”
“I think a lot of planes stopped here. I don’t think there’s nearly enough rooms for every family.”
“What about you? Do they have something planned for the staff?” you inquire.
He shrugs. “My seniors said last time they—”
He pauses as his phone chimes with a notification. “It looks like they’re not planning to take off any time soon,” he announces. “They’re asking us to help hand out blankets.”
“Ah, alright. I’ll see you hopefully tomorrow then?”
“Yeah. Stay safe, Y/N.”
You nod, and he grabs his coat and stands. Before he goes far though, he turns back around and scribbles something on a napkin and hands it to you. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”
“I’ll be fine, but thanks.” You take the napkin and offer him a smile which he returns.
You pull out your computer once more after he leaves and turn it on. Stoney documents load up on the screen for you to look over, and a part of you begins to miss the presence of a certain someone who was just beside you moments before. You shake your head to clear it of that thought. Now isn’t the time for things like that; not when the company is still not yet where your father wants it to be. You refocus your eyes on those still Times New Roman letters and begin to read.
You stay a little longer at the bar, finishing your drink and a proposal before deciding to head up to your room. As you walk through the terminal, a series of coughs draw you attention. In a corner, you see a group of elderly women huddled together with their measly blankets wrapped around themselves, trying to sleep while rubbing their aching bones.
You turn your eyes back on your path to continue walking, but your feet won’t budge. With a sigh, you relent and make your way over to the group of seniors.
It’s cold. It’s undeniably cold. You suspect the power went out too, and the airport is keeping their backup generator just for lights just in case this storm lasts longer than expected.
You shiver uselessly, watching the snow pile and pile outside and trying not to jump as the occasional traffic cone gets slammed against the window. At least, you hope, those grandmothers are warm and comfortable under their duvets.
“Y/N?”
You sit up from the floor and turn towards the whisper and are not surprised to see Chan standing there. He looks tired. A folded blanket hangs from his arm.
Once he’s confirmed it’s you, he makes his way over. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in the hotel?”
“Some elderly needed it more,” you reply.
He gives you another one of his unreadable expressions. “Care if I join you then?” he asks and begins laying down his sheet.
“Don’t you have a place for staff to stay?”
“We do,” he confirms, “but I’m not letting you suffer here alone.”
“I’m not suffering,” you chuckle at his choice of words. “Besides, it doesn’t make sense for two people to suffer if one of them doesn’t have to.”
He flops down and pulls his blanket over his shoulder. “It’s warmer with two people anyway.”
You digress and lay back down next to him.
“I’m not making you uncomfortable though, am I?” he whispers.
You shake your head. “You’re right. It is much warmer with you here. Thank you.”
The two of you close your eyes as the weather outside rumbles. Despite the addition of Chan, it still is dreadfully cold. Your eyelids droop and droop, but your body shakes and shakes.
“Y/N.”
You hear your name, but you can barely react. You make a small noise, and you feel Chan grabbing your hand.
“You’re so cold still,” he sighs.
He lays his blanket on top of yours, and by then, you’re finally able to wake up just enough to reach out and tug his sleeve.
“You’ll be cold too,” you mumble.
“It’s okay,” he insists, adjusting the covers on you.
You shake your head and open up your arms, inviting him in.
“A-are you sure?” he stutters.
You nod, half asleep. Tenderly, he slips under the blankets and brings his arms around you. Almost immediately, you feel much better. Not only are you warmer, you feel something fuzzy filling your chest. It’s an unfamiliar sensation, one so different from the icy coldness that creeps up your spine when you’re with your father. The fuzz is so alien, so baffling, to you, that you can’t even put a name on it. Still, you can’t stop the smile that spreads over your lips.
A soft chime of your phone wakes you up, and you already know who it is from. You’ve been expecting this client to contact you right about now.
You sit up and pull out your laptop, the cold of the metal burning your skin. You prop your back up against the wall and turn on the device. 5:47, your screen reads.
You type away at your keyboard for nearly fifteen minutes before some shuffling draws your attention to the sleeping form in front of you. Chan slowly opens his eyes and looks around until they land on you.
“Sorry. Did I wake you up?”
“What are you doing awake?”
You don’t think he processed what you said. “Just some work. I’ll go somewhere else if my keyboard’s too loud.”
He shakes his head and scoots his butt towards the wall. He grabs a corner of the two blankets with each hand and wraps it around the two of your shoulders, filling you with warmth once again.
“You’ll be cold like that,” he murmurs and drops his head back, sound asleep.
Again, you’re filled with that indescribable feeling. This time, it is even more intense now that you’re awake and fully aware of it. You don’t know what to make of it, or why you’re taking his head and resting it on your shoulder, but you wish you could feel like this forever.
.
.
.
It was all but a feverish dream. At least, that’s what it feels like as you stand at your door steps, six months after that flight. It’s drizzling slightly, and you are cold in your burgundy cocktail dress. So cold.
“It was a pleasure seeing you again tonight, Y/N.”
You smile politely at the man in front of you. Seo Changbin, heir of SEO Entertainment. He is nice enough. Among all your suitors, you dreaded going to dinner with him the least.
“The pleasure is always mine, Changbin,” you reply. “Have a good night.”
“Wait,” he calls as you turn towards the door. “Before we part, I have something for you.”
You watch as he pulls out a box from his coat. It’s a necklace, you realize.
You lift up your hair for him as he puts it on for you. The pendant is hard and icy against your skin. You look down at it. From the way it shimmers under your porch light, you can tell he’s gotten you only the finest on the market.
“It’s beautiful, Changbin. Thank you.”
He smiles bashfully and scratches the back of his head. He is nice enough, you decide. If you had to marry someone, you’d prefer it be him.
“May I ask for one more thing?”
“Of course,” he says eagerly.
You hold your hands out. “A hug.”
“A-a hug?” he blushes.
You begin to draw your arms back. “I’m sorry. That’s imprudent, isn’t it?”
“Not at all!” he disagrees quickly and takes you up in his arms.
You let your head fall on his chest and your eyes to close, waiting for that fuzzy feeling from six months ago to come back, but it never does. You squeeze your arms, holding him closer, but still, nothing.
Finally, you pull back, hiding the disappointment on your face. Changbin’s a grinning mess.
“Good night,” you bid him and turn for the door.
“Good night,” he echos.
The doors close behind you, and you rest your back against it, staring into your vast, dark house. The feeling of emptiness bites at your soul, and something foreign and wet slides down your cheek. You want to run. You want to escape from whatever this emotion is. But how? And where would you run to?
No, not where. Who.
Unconsciously, you reach a hand into your purse for a napkin. You pull one out and feel your throat getting tighter as you realize it isn’t the particular napkin you are looking for. You pull out another and another and another, littering your stone marble floor with tissues until you find exactly what you are looking for. What was once written on that napkin has been reduced to nothing but a smear by now, but no matter. You have memorized the number on it a long time ago.
Hastily, you punch the digits into your phone, but your thumb freezes over the green call button. You wonder how many times you’ve done this already. Changbin would be so hurt if you pressed it. Your father would be so disappointed. The business would crumble to the ground. How can you be so selfish as to do something like that? How dare you be something short of the perfect heir? No. You can’t. You can’t, you won’t, you can’t, you won’t.
Suddenly, a clap of thunder makes you jump. It startles you, but not as much as the dialing tone you hear after your surprise. Your heart races uncontrollably as you stare at your device, not knowing what to do. It rings once. Twice. And then—
