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@commedezgarconz
* imogen won — photography, volleyball captain, track. fourth year, majoring in mechanical engineering. the cheerleader. penned by jc for dragonshq.
intro (plot ideas) / profile / biography / headcanons / acceptance post / pinterest
(250823) YUNJIN ♡ Instagram Update
( crash landing into you (bad ending) ) ; ⸺ @commedezgarconz + !
jisung isn't... not athletic, necessarily. despite his habits, he does regularly enough attend the gym and when it came to sports, he wasn't exactly terrible. but neither could one call him particularly good and the reason why is the reason it always is with jisung. trying way too hard, or very much not enough.
it's a good thing he was growing more and more comfortable with imogen. after all, it's not like he hadn't been racing break neck speeds with her, texting her about high intensity activities that got his heartrate up for some time. it was the kind of bonding that brought people just a bit closer together (on the surface level, and that's the only level jisung typically prefers to operate at). if he wasn't at least this close to her, it would be awfully awkward.
the other side of the court sends the ball their way with a setup into a regular hit and it's not even moving fast— it's not hurling it's gently plummeting over the net. but he's still panicking. he thinks imogen is moving (he vaguely knew she was next to him from the corner of his eye earlier), but what if she didn't go for it? what if she was expecting him to? what if... what if! what if he let her down after she agreed to be his partner (when he gave her puppy dog eyes and said you're the best ((and only)) volleyball partner i know!!)...
he moves a little too quickly for a 185cm tall man; and next thing he knows he's bumping hard into imogen. he can feel how heavy he collides into her because he also stumbles (and the ball sadly drops to the ground next to him). grunting softly, he looks to inspect the damage to his partner with an apologetic, cringe of a crooked frown, "oh no, sorry." he reaches out to pat at her like one does a fly away, gently patting the air more so than her shoulder. "nobody told me volleyball is a contact sport." he chuckles (awkwardly, lightly, softly).
she's starting to regret saying yes to this.
jisung's flattery had convinced her to team up with him— c'mon, someone calls you the best volleyball player they know, and it's kinda hard to say no. besides, she likes this dude. he's funny; always up for an adventure. she figured he couldn't possibly be that bad.
(she was wrong).
— actually, he's not bad. just... maybe not as good as her competitive spirit needs him to be. imogen should be destroying everyone on the court right now. she's the goddamn volleyball captain!
the ball comes over the net, and it's an easy one. easy set, and then jisung would be able to slam it back down on the other side with his freakishly long limbs. it's perfect— she can practically see it now. they'd jump up and down in celebration like they'd just won gold at the olympics... high five a little... maybe tease the other team for taking a fat L. but her dreams are merely gilded, and as she goes in to set the ball, she's being bulldozed by her lovely teammate, sending her straight to the ground.
imogen picks herself up quickly, nose scrunched up, wiping her shorts off and then giving jisung a shove in retaliation. "you big oaf!" but... look at his face. she can't stay mad at him... even if he had toppled her over. "i was going to pop the ball up so you could spike it!" she pinches at her nose bridge. "whatever— it's fine! it's fine." she's actively fighting back against the competitiveness in her bloodstream (it's genetic, she'd argue, not her fault!), "have you ever considered playing rugby? something tells me you'd be really good at tackling people..."
christening the treehouse with @veritastrap
everything about imogen is loud— her laugh, her hair, the way her footsteps fall— so trying to be inconspicuous? … it never really works. but damn it, that doesn't mean she's not trying.
she'd already interrupted a few people's afternoon naps, much to her own embarrassment, but she wasn't ready to give up quite yet. she has to be up in one of these treehouses. imogen swears she saw her disappear in this direction.
with a soft grunt, she heaves herself up the ladder, and immediately proceeds to bonk her head against the entrance with a soft, "—ouch. fuck."
she readjusts her stance, poking her head into the room, sucking in a quiet breath when she sees her there, propped up comfortably on a pillow. "hi." yerim can't see it yet— only her glimmering eyes are peering over the threshold— but she's smiling. "got room for one more in here?"
imogen doesn't wait for an answer, just continues to crawl into the treehouse (let's just say she's not known for being particularly graceful). "nobody saw me.. i think. like... 99% sure... if you're worried about that?" she finally settles, sitting on her knees, blowing her bangs out of her face as she reaches up in a fruitless attempt to tame her hair. "you disappeared back there. i just wanted to make sure you were alright." — and it comes with the opportunity to see her up close. she doesn't voice that bit.
oh i'm about to diiiive in with @prodbyzinnia
sunlight glitters against the surface of the water, the soft echo of wind fluttering the leaves of the trees on the shore. it’s serene— blissfully quiet— save for the faint splashing and giggles of other students enjoying the lake.
it’s almost too peaceful.
imogen heaves out a sigh, stabbing the oar into the ground to it’ll stand on its own. it feels like she’s been trying to convince jiahn to get in the water all day to no avail… it’s time to take matters into her own hands.
she steps out onto the dock where her friend is perched, hands resting on her hips, menacing little grin quirking the corners of her lips upwards. “jiahnniiiiieeeeee.” she draws out— a warning.
“are you suuuuuuure you don’t want to get in the water yourself?”
hiiiii, here with a plotcall for miss imogen for the latest event! again, have left timelines extremely vague so it's (hopefully) a little easier to plot :D please give this a like and i'll slide into your dms! ♥️
misc. ideas —
paddle-board race, anyone? she's very competitive and will shove your muse into the water if they win... she's kinda a sore loser. maybe it turns into a water fight? a full-on water war?
she in onnnnnn those sports courts pretty much her entire time there. someone teach her how to play badminton! i feel like she'd be way too aggressive with her hits and be a total flop. ooor, if your muse is interested in learning proper technique when playing volleyball, she's happy to help as the captain of the volleyball team!
took the game of capture the flag waaaaay too seriously. she's not above shoving people. sorry to your muse? also think it'd be funny for her to like... set a booby trap (not a dangerous one) and have someone get stuck in it. now they're tied by their ankle to a tree and imogen's ripping their flag off 😭
not above getting lost in the woods. too stubborn to use a map even once she realizes that they're lost. adamant that she remembers where she is even though they've walked past the same weird tree three times now...
if your muse is one of her roommates (room 401), they might be woken up from the crunching of her late-night snacks after one of the coolers that mysteriously disappeared ends up under one of their beds... who put that there...
she plopped down across from your muse under the painting canopy and suggested they both paint portraits of each other. the problem? she doesn't have a single artistic bone in her body. she flips it over to show your muse, and it is the worst painting ever 😭
she climbs a tree "for the view" and realizes too late that she can't get back down. your muse to the rescue! or she jumps and falls on top of them... choose your own adventure!
can't braid her own hair to save her life, but she needs it out of her face for all the running around she's doing. you braid her hair, she'll braid yours? <3 just girly things <3 ... and then they can complain about their shampoo being stolen together. seriously, who does that?
gets woken up by one of the mysterious knocks on the doors and can't fall back asleep, so takes it upon herself to poke around the building, or even go outside. maybe your muse is woken up from her rummaging around, and she decides you'll be her little late-night adventure buddy since you're both up now!
timeline —
friday
at lunchtime, she's bothering noeul: stealing food off his plate, forcing him to film a tiktok challenge with her, yapping his ear off under the guise of "catching up."
late afternoon, she's paired up and playing volleyball with jisung... and by playing volleyball, i mean she's getting knocked around by his giant ass chasing the ball.
saturday
early afternoon, post-yoga, she's seeking out yerim and finding her in the treehouse she's claimed as her own. spending some... quality time together 🤨.
late afternoon, she's pushing jiahn into the lake and forcing her to get on the paddle-boards with her once she's wet and has no more "i don't have my bathing suit" excuse to use.
sunday
summer times with you? open starter, set in the b12 building
it was the start of the summer holidays and eunwoo was not particularly excited unlike a lot of her peers. the fact that it was summer right now, it meant that she didn't have much longer at university, unless she did something post grad… she isn't sure that's for her, but she was nowhere with figuring out what to do after that. she isn't one to spiral, but this might just be enough to get her lost. there wasn't much time left and she was nowhere with her future plans. terrifying.. but at least the weather was nice and the campus was nearly empty, so she had to make the most out of it. what better time than this to go day drinking inside right in front of her fan?
that is exactly how the two of them ended up, after eunwoo had to do what felt like bribery- alcohol and food promised, but it was all worth it. they were already one bottle down each, and had moved into the common room kitchen. eunwoo had promised food, home made food and she might not be the best cook in the world, but she knew how not to set the fire alarm on. last thing she wanted is the last few people in the building walking out in the scorching heat because of her, the thought almost makes her shudder.
"i feel like your slave today. i bought the alcohol, i bought the food, i am gonna cook for you." she is complaining for the sake of complaining really, because she is moving with a particular tipsy grace around the kitchen, hair tied up in a messy bun and ingredients already pulled out. its too hot for anything, despite how much eunwoo would love to have an extra spicy stew, she has set for naengmyeon. "can you pour me another drink? please?" she asks, bats her eyelashes at her friend as she slides her shotglass across the table, both hands resting on the surface as she waits for the glass to be filled and passed back to her. "i have a few more bottles in the fridge, and beer, so we should be able to get absolutely hammered. and its quiet now, this floor is nearly fully empty."
"you're my loving, adoring, caring friend, eunwoo, not my slave!" imogen corrects, already on a mission to fish another bottle of soju out of the fridge for the two of them. they were on a roll— no stopping any time soon. it was summer! they deserved to let loose a little. "although..." she turns, giving the other woman a (teasing) glare. "maybe this is payback for letting agatha christen your instagram account and not me!" she tosses a hand over her forehead dramatically, like she's some victorian woman feeling faint. "how long have i been saying you need an instagram?! and then you go and start one without me?!" the ultimate betrayal. — truthfully, imogen's just happy eunwoo's finally got one. she needs someone to send all these reels to. "i'll forgive you if you let me be your photographer for your first picture." 'your' is emphasized by a boop on the nose (done with impressive hand-eye coordination for someone that's tipsy).
she finally turns her attention back to the shelf, retrieving a fresh bottle before shutting the door of the fridge. "way ahead of you, girl." she cracks the top open, filling the shot glass to the brim before carefully scooting it back over to her. she makes quick work of filling her own shot glass, too. "cheers? to your instagram era?" she suggests, smile wide and bright on her features. imogen doesn't really wait for a response to that, just clinks her glass against her friend's and knocks it back.
she's already pouring another shot for herself, watching as eunwoo moves with a particular titled grace around the kitchen. "listen, i would offer to help, but..." lips pull into a faint cringe at the memory, "i tried to help jiahn bake cookies the other day, and it didn't go so well..." nose wrinkles up, "she left for ten minutes and i managed to burn the ones in the oven and cause a flour explosion from the next batch. it was such a disaster. i honestly shouldn't even be in this kitchen. my bad cooking vibes are lingering in here... if something blows up, just know that it was probably me."
a deep inhale of breath. exhale. inhale.
her arms wrap around her own waist, like it’s the only way to hold herself together. focusing on her breathing, yerim finds, is a great temporary distraction, as she stands there hoping imogen will follow — and worried what it might mean if she does. there’s a knock, and while she doesn’t look up — eyes fixed on a specific spot on the floor — yerim can tell by the cream silk dress entering her periphery that it’s imogen.
exhale.
the first thing she feels is relief. imogen had followed. she still… after all these months, she still wants her? yerim hadn’t messed things up so bad, that she’d scared her away forever?
though, she can’t be to sure. maybe imogen is here to yell at her. maybe she’s angry, maybe—
she’s not. angry. because yerim’s name is on her lips again, and she misses her. yerim’s breath hitches, but she doesn’t look up. instead, she stands there almost completely still — as if the weight of imogen’s voice has frozen her in place.
i miss you.
for months, yerim has been dreaming of what it would be like to hear imogen say those words. what it would be like to forget about everything that happened, to run back into her arms. to kiss her again. to… be with her.
she swallows. then, she finally lifts her gaze, meeting imogen’s, her expression steady but unreadable.
“you look beautiful tonight.”
it’s all she says at first. a simple truth. her tone is soft, voice almost a whisper.
there’s another moment of silence, and all yerim does is stare at imogen. taking her in, as if seeing her for the very first time again. it almost feels like that’s the case, with how different imogen looks, and how long it’s been since they’ve been close enough for yerim to study her features like this. she really does look beautiful like this. not that she didn’t already look like the most beautiful person in the world.
with a sigh, yerim breaks the silence again. “don’t apologize. it’s not…” she trails off, swallowing, and looks back down at the floor. “you didn’t do anything. i…” i miss you too. she can’t bring herself to say it, despite how much she wants to, how much she longs to have imogen touch her again. to feel her lips on hers once again.
“you don’t have to fix anything. i’m the one who—” messed up. she wants to say it, but it’s as if the words are stuck in her throat.
“i didn’t…” her words trail off again, but she looks back up, meeting imogen’s eyes with a quiet kind of desperation. when she speaks again, her voice is barely above that of a whisper.
“i didn’t know what to do with how much i want you.”
you look beautiful tonight.
one sentence, and imogen feels excruciatingly exposed. neck flushes scarlet, and it's spreading down her décolletage in two seconds flat. curse this off-the-shoulder dress. there's no hiding it: the way she glows bright pink for her. imogen doesn't like being called beautiful— not usually, anyways... somehow, something about that word felt different coming from yerim. more sincere.
it's unbearable.
"thank you." her gaze rips away, suddenly taking interest in the crown moulding along the walls, the velvet curtains fluttering against the windowsill— anything but her. she doesn't know what to say; if there's anything to say at all. she doesn't want to ruin it— make yerim feel like she's got to run away from her again. imogen's not sure her heart could take a second round. the pain that had first blossomed in her chest when she'd realized yerim was putting distance between them had long since grown roots. god knows she doesn't need it to get any worse— infectious, ever-spreading, like ivy.
she doesn't know— doesn't know she's been staring this whole time. her eyes only drift back upwards once yerim's look had turned down to the floor. her turn to long now, attention fixed solely on the woman standing in front of her. she almost can't believe this. fingers twitch, stopping herself before she can reach out and touch— prove to herself that she's not dreaming.
i didn’t know what to do with how much i want you.
want you— present tense.
it feels like a punch to the gut. imogen doesn't know whether to laugh, or scream, or maybe cry. she swallows hard. that's all she'd ever wanted to hear: some sense of validation that she wasn't crazy— that yerim had felt it all too. she hadn't been alone in the wanting. imogen can't tell if that makes it feel even worse.
"i wish you would've just told me."
maybe she's a wishful thinker. she'd been called starry-eyed before. always too busy daydreaming, idealizing, caught up in her own fictions of fantasy... but is it really so hopeless to think that they could've made it work against all odds? imogen would've waited as long as it took— she still would. she is.
"yerim, i..." she sucks in, then lets out a shaky breath. it's not often imogen is rendered speechless. she reaches out to lace their fingers together once more, then brings their joined hands to rest on her chest, right where her heart pulses beneath her sternum, so that yerim can feel it— feel the shared wanting, the way it hammers incessantly under her ribcage. "i've wanted you since the day we first met" a beat, "i was so patient— i can be patient." that might be a lie. yerim had kissed her, and it's the only thing she'd been able to think about since. months passed; still her only dream. she wants it again, even now— more now, knowing for sure. gaze drops down to yerim's lips. though she hadn't voiced those last thoughts aloud, she's certain they're written all over her face.
"please. don't run away again. i can't lose you a second time, yerim. i want you in my life, even if..." she stops. imogen could play the part of a close friend. she'd done it before, hadn't she? teeth dig into her lesser lip. she can't finish that sentence. "please."
"ow," lucas exclaims, dramatically slapping a hand over his shoulder where he's been struck. "damn. what did i do?" truth be told, nothing. for the first time in his life, he can legitimately claim innocence. he didn't know, and he wasn't the one who initially pursued. sure, he made it easy for imogen when she did, but that's beside the point.
the point being—he's not the bad guy here, but he can take an L if it makes imogen feel better about herself and her ... situation. call it a favour. a little sacrifice for the greater good. god knows his reputation is already shit, so he can take the hit.
"look." lucas takes a quick glimpse over his shoulder, so much for not looking suspicious, before stepping closer to her and lowering his voice. "if it helps, you can just say that i came onto you. one thing led to another, it happened, and it's done. you don't have to feel bad. seriously. you're not the first person, and you wouldn't be the last. so chill a bit, yeah? all this hiding from me only makes it worse."
brows pinch at his words, eyes squinting as she stares him down. what the fuck was this little punk talking about? just say that he came onto her? she has half the mind to take a q-tip to her ear to make sure she's hearing him right. someone's got this all mixed up, and it wasn't her. she's avoiding him because she feels bad for him. it can't feel good to run into someone that'd ghosted you— hell, she knows it for a fact.
"seeing me... makes you feel better?" her voice lifts at the end. confused. so, utterly confused. "— look, lucas. you're... nice." when he wasn't sneaking up on her and jumpscaring her, that is. maybe he wasn't as nice as she thought. oh, well. she's gotta let him down easily. calling him nice was just a part of that! "i just thought, y'know, avoiding you was for the best." she reaches up to scratch at the back of her head. never really thought she'd be apologizing for keeping her distance after doing someone dirty. shouldn't this be what he wants? maybe he's some sort of masochist? ew. alright, that line of thought was done.
"i'm sorry. for ghosting you. that was shitty of me. i was just going through a lot at the time. i didn't want you to get the wrong idea. i figured it was just easier for everyone if i just kept my distance." cringe. ugh, terrible. "you're... not really my type." even worse. "i didn't think you'd want to be... uh... friends after that?"
the whole scene plays out like a comedy, or even a sitcom; junho almost can't believe something like this is actually happening in real life - but it is, he responds to himself mentally, as he watches on in mild shock as someone else pick up his order and take a sip of it right as he was about to reach for it himself.
first, he wonders how the other had assumed the drinks was hers. didn't she hear that the name the barista called out was junho? then, he notices she seemed to be occupied with her phone--perhaps watching or reading something, he assumes--which answers that for him (she probably wasn't paying attention to names and just assumed the drink was hers, since she did order before him).
but just when he was about to tell her she grabbed the wrong drink, in the next second he witnesses her taking a sip from it-- and if he wasn't the victim of a stolen drink, he would've laughed at her obvious reaction to his order: a triple shot grape americano (it was some kind of limited special menu item he was curious about because he couldn't imagine how it'd taste). the situation only gets funnier when the barista sets down what junho assumes is the other's actual order, which only further proves that his drink would be a very stark difference from what she--imogen? he finally has a name for the offender--was probably expecting.
perhaps, the funniest part of this all however, is when imogen finally realizes she took his order and turns around to see him. junho almost lets out a laugh then, seeing her expression, but before he can say or do anything in response, he suddenly feels offended by what she says next. why, however, he's not sure; it's not like this was his regular order or something he knew he liked - he was just trying it out of something like morbid curiousity.
"uh, actually..." junho grimaces and shakes his head. "i just ordered it to see what it'd taste like," he admits, not wanting her to get the wrong idea about his tastes. after all, if he just wanted a coffee or something, he could've just went back to his dorm and made it himself. "but thanks for testing it for me, i guess?" is his follow up, a teasing smile appearing next. he isn't mad or annoyed, really; this whole situation was more hilarious than anything and he understands this drink switching mistake happens often - he's seen it happen enough when he also worked as a barista before.
"i guess i'll just have what you got, since you seem confident about your tastes," he answers finally, the teasing smile from before turning into a bigger grin. "respectfully."
her face is almost as red as her hair now, but she swallows down the embarrassment with grace. she took the drink; she'll own up to it. "that sounds like a challenge." brow quirks, cringe softening into a smile. imogen's pretty confident about her order— it's a vanilla latté, c'mon, what could possibly go wrong? "what do you normally order? this..." she starts, reaching over to pick up her correct drink off the counter, giving it a little wiggle for emphasis, "... is yummy. but pretty sweet... are you a sweet guy?" the double entendré's absolutely intended.
she brings her hand up to tap at her chin, pretending to think really hard as she reviews the menu once more. "wait, wait, wait... let me guess." she squints at him, like she could magically see what his coffee order was if she studied him hard enough (she can't) (but my god, she's trying). she snaps her fingers, like she'd suddenly had a vision, pointing a finger gun at him. "cold brew. straight. no cream, no sugar." there's no reason for her to believe this. really, she's taking a shot in the dark. "am i right, or am i right?"
a mischievous little grin sets on her features then, and she's offering the grape americano to him. "... but before we do anything, you need to taste this." if she had to be subject to the worst flavor in the world, she was dragging him down with him— never mind the fact that she's never met this man before. they were about to be trauma bonded for life over this drink! "and don't say that you don't want to. you're the one who ordered it. i brushed my teeth this morning, i swear. you won't get my cooties or anything."
imogen looks at him expectantly, cup still held out to him. "try it or the deal's off." way to run a hard bargain!
if it was even possible to look so lame while getting into such a hot car, then jinyoung is making a generational run at it right now. on the positive, everything is novel and fun in his current state of mind. the experience of getting shuffled into her car is somewhere between getting buckled into a kiddy booster seat and getting strapped into a spaceship about to exit the atmosphere. he’s both too anxious and too excited than he should be for something so mundane.
but for a moment, he sobers up harshly and suddenly, as if she had yanked him by the hair to thrust his face into a basin full of ice water. “chill, i was like… twelve.” the defense statement is delivered with perfect dictation, not a trace of slurred words left to be heard. it's a good thing his cheeks are already somewhat flushed from the alcohol. ungracefully, he’s probably been shaving off one year of age every time he’s given this excuse, meaning he only has eleven uses left before he’ll become unborn (or need to come up with a new one). “you have to stop holding this against me. my brain wasn’t fully even developed back then...” belatedly, he realizes he’s thrown out a soft ball for her to smack him with another insult, but the drunken daze reclaims his supposedly more developed brain, such that he can’t be bothered to cover his bases.
she starts the car, and the hum of the engine is strangely therapeutic, the glow of the dashboard strangely calming. he extends an arm to fiddle with the air vent nearest to him, amused by the cool burst of air against his skin; again, strangely amusing. to the naked eye, it seems like he’s tuning her out, but he’s not.
there’s a low groan in response to her question. “i’m fine. i just—” he interrupts himself with a long, drawn out yawn. drinking makes him drowsy nowadays. rather unfortunate. also unfortunate is how he forgets what he was originally going to tell her. it's in his nature is to steer away from her line of questioning, but he hates to admit that it doesn't feel so bad to be the recipient of concern for once. "crash out? who? me? i'm not crashing out. why would i be crashing out?" he responds rapid fire and indignant as if it's the silliest thing that she could even conceive of such a thing.
"i'm not so sure that your brain is fully developed now." he walked directly into that one... and, really, how is imogen to resist the siren call of taunting yoon jinyoung? especially while he's actively drunk and unable to conceptualize how to open a car door— it's double the fun this way! "— and also? i'm a total catch, what the fuck? don't be rude to your literal savior." she reaches out to give him a shove, but then thinks better of it. it's probably best not to shake him up when he's sitting in the passenger seat. she really meant it when she said she'd strangle him. she lands a swift punch to the shoulder instead to really drive her point home.
attention turns back to the road ahead, blinker on, ready to pull away from the curb... but not before she turns to hit him with an unimpressed look. "hm, why would you be crashing out..." she deadpans. it's not a question as much as it is a mockery. imogen could probably list a few things if he wanted her to be brutally honest. luckily, she's sober and able to understand the concept of a rhetorical question. she looks away from him with a roll of her eyes, finally planting her foot on the gas pedal.
any request to drive smooth and steady had went unheeded— as it usually does. climbing into imogen's car and shutting the door was as good as signing a contract saying you accepted whatever fate lie ahead for you and miss hot wheels. "did you go out alone?" that'd be red flag number one. hanging out with friends? fine. deciding to get drunk on your lonesome? questionable. it's not that imogen wants to grill him... she just cares. already seen him go down a bad path once. she's not keen on watching it happen again. — alriiiiight, maybe she's being a little dramatic, but better safe than sorry, right?
"celebrating a win?" imogen can play the guessing game; maybe she'll just annoy him until he finally caves and tells her what's up. she's not above that. foot presses harder on the gas pedal, taking a sharp swerve to avoid a car going much slower (read: going the speed limit). fingers thrum against the wheel, eyes never once leaving the road. sure, she's a speed demon, but she's not totally unsafe! "is it even soccer season right now? are you drinking cause you miss it? i can play too, you know." mental note: show up at jinyoung's place with a soccer ball in hand? "all you have to do is ask!"
“hmm?” micah hums, clearly distracted — or rather, focused: on the squirrel he’s been trying to take a picture of for the past two minutes. any second now, it will surely do something cute that will warrant a picture. “yeah, just a sec!” he calls to imogen, admittedly without as much as looking up from his own camera, having no idea what she’s actually talking about. or maybe asking him for. stupidly, he trusts that she’ll be fine on her own for a moment.
which, in hindsight, was a mistake. just before the squirrel is about to do something cute (he’s so sure of it!), the sound of a yelp cracks through the air, and micah instantly forgets about his little side quest. “imogen?” he calls, in a sharp, confused panic. he turns around just in time to see her flying towards the ground. shit. he hurries over towards her, but not fast enough — she’s already picking herself up before he can offer any assistance.
“oh my god, imogen, are you okay?” promptly ignoring her request to not freak out, he kneels down by her side, reaching out towards her ankle. he doesn’t touch her, not right away — instead, he looks up at her, expression filled with worry. “can i check? let me know if it hurts.”
gently, he presses two fingers to her ankle, feeling for any tenderness, high temperature, or swelling. well, it certainly looks swollen. though it doesn’t feel like there’s much more than that — nothing to indicate a bone fracture. “it doesn’t look broken,” he confirms, stretching to stand up again. “but you should keep your weight off it for now, okay? hobbling down is not a good idea.” he fixes her with a look, his attempt at looking stern — but everyone who knows him, knows he’s far too kindhearted to ever be stern to anyone.
“and you’re not dying here,” he assures her, “nor are you being raised by wolves. come on, i’ll carry you.” then, he bends down a little, enough for her to be able to climb onto his back. well, hopefully. he’s not completely sure if she will manage, with her ankle and all.
“just climb on. i’ve got you.” a heartfelt promise. “and it’s not that far. besides, i’ve carried heavier. did i ever tell you about this one time, back when i was in high school, and my friend actually broke his foot on a class hike? i carried him home for like, several miles. and trust me, he was a lot harder to carry than you’ll be.”
micah touches her ankle, and she has to bite her tongue to keep from yelping. yea... that's definitely not just a scrape. she flexes her calf, and it hurts, but she can still move it. well.. at least it's not broken, right? a girl's gotta find her wins somewhere!
"... i think i'd rather do the raised-by-wolves thing." joking, of course... maybe?watching him crouch down so she can hop on his back honestly has her weighing her options. a wolf wouldn't outright maul her, right? it'd sense her cool vibes and decide to accept her as one of their own? at least until her ankle was better? is this how werewolves were made? why did she have so many questions?
imogen shakes her head, effectively clearing her thoughts. she's got to be realistic here. "what if you fall and then i fall because i'm on your back?" there's about a thousand hypotheticals she could run through right now if he'd really let her.
it's not that she doesn't trust micah— honestly, she's fairly sure she could trust him to do literally anything and he'd deliver— it's just... her nose scrunches up a little bit. imogen hates relying on someone else. much less a man. a piggyback ride down the small hill they'd climbed up together feels a tad bit too princess-y for her liking? certainly, if she could get up here herself, she could get back down herself too. "i'll be fine." she insists, moving to take a step.
bad idea.
she feels like her ankle is gonna crumble underneath her if she puts her full weight on it. could she build a makeshift sled, maybe? there wasn't snow this time of year, but dirt could be slippery... right?
imogen puffs out her cheeks in frustration before finally letting out a breath. "ohmygodfine!" she says, rushed, like she'd rather not admit she needs help. "—but if you drop me or something, or tell anyone about this, i'm going to punch you." great way to speak to someone offering to carry you down a hill!
arms loop loosely around his neck as she climbs onto his back, biting back laughter at the predicament she'd managed to get the both of them into. "thank you. and sorry. for slipping." a beat, "... and for threatening you."
yerim gulps when imogen plants her palm in front of her, the word darling curling from her lips like a challenge. what had she just said again? her attention is already drifting — eyes flicking to imogen’s mouth, then lower, tracing the smudges of oil and grease streaked across her skin. filthy, by yerim’s standards. and yet… not unbecoming. far from it. she’s… intrigued. attracted.
oh, right. she had asked imogen if she could ask her a question. but… she can’t remember what it was, or if she even had a question in the first place. had it just been a way to get imogen’s attention, an excuse to look away from her notes even for just a few minutes? it might have. yerim’s not sure, because any reasonable thought in her head had evaporated the moment imogen stepped closer, almost entering yerim’s personal space.
she swallows, teeth catching briefly on her lip before she speaks. “i… forgot what it was.” it’s unlike her to admit something like that. yerim doesn’t forget things. she remembers everything. but there is something about imogen that scrambles her careful order of things. makes her… ugh. she doesn’t even know what it makes her.
she realizes she’s still staring at imogen’s arms — her tattoos like constellations etched in ink — and drags her gaze upward, meeting imogen’s eyes. not that that’s any better. not at all.
god, imogen makes her nervous. yerim doesn't really even know what to say, or what she wants. and it's stressing her out.
“sorry,” she murmurs, a light shake of her head. “for disturbing you. you looked busy?” her voice is uncertain, her words sounding more like a question than a statement. because, truthfully, yerim wouldn’t know if imogen had been particularly busy or not. she knows nothing about cars.
but, what she does know, is that she wants imogen to stay this close. maybe even closer. and that’s the real problem.
the admission makes imogen take pause, if only for a brief moment. quizzical expression takes over her features, the faintest hint of a smile ghosting her lips. "you forgot." she echoes, eyebrows raised in disbelief. she's never known yerim to be one to speak with haste— every word she speaks is done with intention. she's trying not to laugh, but it's hard. she's endearing without even trying.
eyes stay fixed on the other woman intently. it's not meant to intimidate; rather, she can't possibly look away. imogen hadn't considered the repercussions of getting so close to yerim. it feels like there's thrums of electricity crackling in her veins now. she's beautiful— she knew that already— but now, closer yet, it's impossible to think of anything else.
pretty girl.
words fill the space between them once more, and it snaps imogen right out of the yerim-induced trance she'd been in. does she even know what she does to her? it's not like imogen tries to hide it: she's always been shameless in her flirting. on the surface, it may not seem like much— she flirts with all of her friends— but there's something real underneath it all... lingering touches and unabashed stares reserved exclusively for choi yerim.
still, she's got plausible deniability. though... the longer she stays near, the less she cares about covering her bases.
"never too busy for you." hand remains firmly planted in front of yerim, and the other comes to join it, propping herself up with both arms as she leans forward in the most inconspicuous way she can manage. if it were up to her, there'd be nothing between them— not even air. "can i be honest?"
she blinks, pausing for dramatic effect. "i’ve been trying to make myself look busy for the past fifteen minutes.” it sounds a little ridiculous saying it out loud, nose scrunching up a bit at the confession. “i didn’t want to interrupt your study session.” if she’d realized that yerim’s attention had been on things other than her notebook, she would’ve sauntered over way sooner.
“cat’s out of the bag now, i guess— you’ve got my full attention now, love.” she grins, pushing forward on her palms to try and steal a glance at the notes she’s got jotted down. “was the question about something you were studying?” their majors aren’t quite related, but imogen’s willing to try. “— or maybe we should retrace your steps to jog your memory? i could go back to wiping the car down.” she doesn’t want to— doesn’t want to move an inch further from her. imogen meets yerim’s eyes. a challenge? a plea?
tell me to stay right here.
Dress tape, duct tape. Shiyu watches, follows Imogen's eyes trying to extricate possible angles of compromise. She doesn't dignify that with a response, doesn't question why someone like Imogen might possibly walk around with tape in her purse. You have to allow the universe some of its mysteries.
"Mostly plastered, but you'll find out." She promises on a last cursory glance through the cabinet to confirm their options, leaving the highball glasses on the tray up top. Hands on hips, pep in her step— ready to head out for the evening supply run. "But I don't really like when I can taste the liquor right away. Should be a second or two, then hit you at the back of the head like—" Ever illustrative, with the heel of her open palm tapping lightly off the crown of her head. "Like that."
A Ferrari though, as suggested by Imogen, has few such redeeming qualities that she can recall. Campari and something else, all bitterness and no padding. She gives a poor showing of suppressing a wince at the thought, still nods along dutifully as they start toward the door. It's not the worst idea she's heard. Fairly close though.
"That one is always mean, isn't it?" Reasons Shiyu with a somewhat withering smile, elbowing the door to open it a crack, waiting for Imogen to join. "I mean, if you like it, you know— I'll try it for a fair exchange." A fairly benign tactic to keep them both evenly paced. "I don't know everything's down there, exactly, but I'm sure we can borrow what we need otherwise." She shrugs, pushing into the hallway, looks both ways like she's expecting something to collide. It's mercifully dead quiet through the whole corridor. Could indicate that they've fallen behind, or are way early to get plastered. "I mean, who's gonna notice? As long as we're quiet."
"i dunno, i feel like if i'm going to partake in alcohol, i might as well go all in." explains her affinity for drinks as heinous as a ferrari, but... c'mon. it's too on-brand for her to possibly dislike. besides, it's not nearly as bad as shooting jäger, and she does that too— sometimes. give her a red bull to go with, and she'll be bouncing off the walls. horrible taste, truly. "but i can still appreciate something on a sweeter side." she winks at that, making a kissy face. a little playful flirting never hurt anyone!
she flashes shiyu a bright smile, leaning forwards to catch the door before it could shut behind her, crowding up behind the other woman unintentionally as she pauses in stride to check for traffic. "i don't think anyone would notice even if i started shouting right now." the floor's practically silent. imogen would be surprised if another living soul dared to show their face right now as they both pushed through the doorway and out into the hall.
it's almost eerie, actually, how quiet it is. she feels like she has to whisper-shout instead of speaking normally or she'll disrupt... something— whatever's going on in this kitchen of pure tranquility (it won't stay this peaceful for long). "do you borrow things from the fridge often?" imogen's never had really roommates, or suitemates, or whatever. the thought of looking forward to a snack all day just to come back home and have it be stolen is utterly heartbreaking. she snorts with laughter suddenly, "oh my god, did you ever sneak alcohol out of the bottles your parents had in the freezer and refill it with water so it looked like nothing was taken out of it?" eyes are lit up in pure amusement at the memory. "liam and ollie—" her brothers, "— did that once... well, a lot of times. so much that eventually there was enough water that it completely froze." clowns. both of them. "i seriously thought my mom was going to kill them. the look on their faces when they got caught was priceless though."
she's fully rummaging through the cabinets now, not paying any mind to how loud she's being. the brief moment of attempted whispering had fizzled out after she'd started giggling through her anecdote. "eugh, fireball? seriously?" rich coming from her. she pulls out the bottle nonetheless, giving it a little shake. "should we really torture ourselves tonight?" half-joking. if shiyu dared her to, she would— imogen was never one to back down from a challenge. "i don't see campari in here, either... so i guess you'll live to see another day." free hand disappears into the cabinet, only to pop back out with a bottle of tequila in tow. "i think we found our winnnerrrrr!"
hayun is stifling back a laugh when her nickname is given to her from imogen. the drawl of it even, it causes her to look sheepish herself. "if it's cursed, we're definitely not using it. not until a priest blesses it or something." she teases, not really caring that the ball had hit her as the victim. hayun could take a hit from a volleyball, in fact, she adored it. "i miss it too! why don't we just blow up everyone's phones then? think it'll work?"
as her arm is linked, hayun's smile grows widely, something easily for her around her captain. imogen just has an aura that can't help but be drenched in. it's infectious in all the right ways. however, when the nosy question comes, hayun waves her free hand off. "it's just me being me. i just love practicing coding lately more than anything," there's a sharp pause and she halts in her tracks to face imogen. "--except volleyball! you know that, right?" her statement is clear, shows that she means business when it comes to the sport she loves so dearly. despite swimming being another love, she's too shy to fall back into the swim team since she hasn't competitively swam in years.
giddy, she giggles to herself at imogen and the imagery of her being locked in for three days with delivery foods. "i'm getting fresh air now, aren't i?" she bumps her hip playfully into the other woman's and then proceeds towards their destination. "no! not banana kicks. u-gua! and i love the flavored jelly marshmallows. those are my downfall." strawberry, peach, lychee, mango, it really doesn't matter the flavor of the stuffed sweets. "but, i'll see your banana kicks and raise you honey twists. those are my other favorites."
finally at the destination, hayun's quick to grab up a basket with her free hand and offer it to her captain. then, she grabs one for herself. "what are your favorites? aside from banana kicks!" though, hayun makes a mental note to bring her some randomly on occasion.
she snorts at hayun's quick correction, leaning over to knock her shoulder against the other woman's. "you can love things besides volleyball, babe. i won't rip your head off or anything... sheesh! do i really come across as that strict of a captain?" don't get imogen wrong: she loves the sport. she's good at it. it's fun. she loves her girls. but when it comes to being a leader? she's mostly there to keep everyone happy and hungry to do better, not force them to think of volleyball day in and day out. as long as people showed up to practice, she encouraged having a life off the court too. bottom lip pushes out into a small pout, "you'd tell me if i was too big of a freak about that kinda stuff, right?! i know i can be a tad bit competitive..." an understatement, truly. "but i still want everyone to have fun outside of practice too!"
they fall into step together as they walk, imogen still clinging to hayun's arm with hers. she's always been the (over)affectionate type, especially with her friends— she's happy the other doesn't seem to mind it too much. "honey twists are sooooo good. ugh, i love your mind." she smiles, gingerly taking the offered basket and giving it a swing. "choco churro turtle chips are fire. you should try them. little miss sweet tooth over here." she teases, grin only brightening with her words.
"when i'm not feeling something super sweet..." imogen starts, tugging hayun along to an aisle full of snacks. "i like these." she says, gleefully grabbing a bag of garlic baguette sunchips from the shelf and holding them up to the other woman's face. "love them, actually. cannot keep them in my house. i will eat the entire bag in one sitting." and i'll probably do it to this bag, too, she thinks as she tosses it into her basket. "not the hot and spicy version, though. they're not even spicy." she continues down the aisle, looking around wide-eyed and excited like a kid in a candy store.
manicured hands reach out to snatch another bag from the shelf just a little ways down, "now, you want something hot and spicy?" she holds the item up. an innocent bag of almonds— or so she thought the first time she came across them. "i accidentally bought hot and spicy chicken flavor when i thought i was getting the toffee latté flavor— i know that's a wild mistake to make, but mind you, i was a little tipsy at the time." she flings the almonds into her basket. "i almost choked and died after shoving a whole handful in my mouth... they're good when you're expecting them to be spicy, though!"
she pauses in her stride, giving hayun a chance to look at the shelves. "did you want anything from here? i think the choco churro chips are down this aisle if you wanted to give them a try!"
