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anniebeckcalla · 14 days ago

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───not the right time (p.js) part 2

(bf! jisung x reader) ◦ ₊ wc2500> ◦ ₊ cwdeath, sueecide, sueecidal thoughts, angst, grief, description of grief, bad language, ghosts, the supernatural, graphic details. ◦ ₊ cafe.

ღ calla's note: please, please do not force yourself to read this if you get triggered by the topics listed in the content warning. if you continue, and feel as if you can't go on, it's okay. just stop.

“Jisung,” you called out, your voice breaking. “Jisung, your said you wouldn't leave me!” The pain returned full force to your heart, and you bent over, holding your chest, eyes squeezed shut. Sobs racked your body as you thought it all over. Maybe you had just pretended that he was there, and your imagination had run out. No. He had been so real. You couldn't feel him, but he had been real, every strand of hair, every mole, every freckle.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to take so long.”

Your eyes opened and you looked across to see Jisung, hovering over you with a concerned frown. “You came back!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms around his neck. When you pulled away, you frowned. “You said you would stay by me, Jisung. What happened?” Jisung shrugged, his ears reddening. “Sorry, y/n. I had to make sure that my mother was alright. She's grieving, too.” You stared down at your hands, swallowing down the jealousy that threatened to seep into your mouth.

“Was she happy to see you?” you muttered. Jisung smiled, oblivious to your envy. “She was very happy. Of course, she thought she was dreaming. It's better that way. She hates anything to do with ghosts.” You looked up, hating the way his eyes sparkled when he was talking about his mother. You knew that Jisung loved his mother in a different way, but you wanted him to be obsessed with you, and you only.

“Well, at least everyone's happy,” you replied. Jisung looked up at you. “That's a lie. You're not happy, y/n. Not truly.” You shrugged, tears forming in your eyes. “I'm glad that you're here, Jisung, but it doesn't feel the same. Every time I look at you, I remember that you're dead.” You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand. “What you need to do is distract yourself, y/n. You need to go out and do something that makes you happy.” Jisung rose from the bed and crossed over to the bedroom door. You drew your knees to your chest with a stubborn scowl. “I don't want to do anything,” you sniffed. “It's not about what you want,” Jisung snapped. “It's about what's good for you.” You scowled at him. “I'll go out,” you said, peeling open the duvet and stepping out of bed. “Don't think it's because you're bossing me around.” “That's what I want to see,” Jisung smiled.

It was a dark day outside. The clouds hung low, threatening rain, and a cold breeze nipped at your nose and cheeks. You hadn't been out of the house since the funeral. The world felt too raw to face, too loud, too massive. You wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling smaller and smaller with each person and car that passed you by. Jisung stepped into place next to you, placing an arm around your shoulders. “It's okay, y/n. I'm here.” “Thanks,” you said, allowing yourself to smile. A passerby glared at you, hurrying up their pace to get as far away from you as possible. “Another thing, y/n,” Jisung said as you watched their retreating figure. “Only you can see me, so if we're outside, try to keep your voice to a minimum.” With a laugh, he added, “I guess that you could say that I'm exclusive.” You couldn't bring yourself to laugh at that, so you kept your head down, swallowing down tears.

In the end, you and Jisung agreed on a spot from the old times to hang out: the city forest. It was a peaceful solace from the rest of the busy world; the sky hidden away by trees, complete silence apart from the scurry and twitter of birds, and nobody to be seen apart from the occasional dog-walker. You settled yourself on a bench, and when you were sure that nobody else could see you, you cried, unsure of the reason behind your sorrow. Jisung put his arm around your shoulders, gazing up at the trees above while he waited for you to stop. Eventually, you took a deep breath, wiping your streaming nose on your sleeve. “My heart still hurts,” you sighed. “Nothing feels safe anymore.”

Silence filled the air.

“How can I feel you again, Jisung?” you said. “What do I have to do to make it feel like you're not just a figment of my imagination?” Jisung looked ahead in silence, his ears reddening. “Well?” You glared at him as he turned to you. “The truth is, y/n, you'd have to die-

“Y/n?” You turned around to see Mark behind you, hand raised in a wave. “Y/n, are you okay?” You turned back around, hatred stinging your veins. “Just go away, Mark. I meant it when I said that I don't want to see you again.” Ignoring your statement, Mark settled himself next to you, unknowingly sitting on top of Jisung. Jisung shook his head in disapproval as he shuffled away to the edge of the bench. “Y/n,” Mark said. His eyes were glistening with tears again. “I'll be honest with you. I miss Jisung as well, and I came here to clear my head. I'm glad that I've seen you here, because maybe we can talk about Jisung together.” You made to stand up from the bench, but Mark grabbed your hand. “Wait, y/n. I wanted to tell you something-”

“Get OFF me, you freak!” you shouted, pulling your wrist from his grip. He held his hands up. “I'm sorry, y/n. That was unnecessary of me.” There was a brief pause. “I just wanted to tell you that I forgive you, y/n,” Mark said. “Forgive me for what?” you sneered. Mark sighed patiently. “Let's be honest with ourselves, y/n. I forgive you for the way you abandoned me for Jisung.” Jisung frowned, and you stood up, sweat pooling on your brows. “I have to go now,” you said. Mark stood up as well. “Remember what you did, y/n? When we broke up, you told me that I was emotionally manipulative, but all you wanted to do was to get to Jisung because you had feelings for him. We grew apart from each other, because I couldn't bear seeing you two together as a result of your lies. He died before we could solve our differences. But I just wanted to say that it's okay-”

“STOP IT!” you screamed, horrified at Jisung's surprised face. “He might hear you!” Mark frowned. “Who might hear me?” “Jisung,” you sobbed. “He's here, and he can hear us.” Mark stepped away from you. “Is that who I heard you talking to just a moment ago?” he said. “Yes,” you whispered. “I'm telling you, he’s there.” You pointed to Jisung, and Mark looked in his direction. When he saw nobody there, he stepped away from you again. “You're having hallucinations, y/n. Jisung isn't there. He's dead.” “SHUT UP!” you shrieked. “JUST GO AWAY!” “I'm going, I'm going,” Mark backed away and disappeared into the clearing. You fell to your knees on the forest floor, howling as Jisung stood over you. “What a shame, y/n,” he said. ��I can't believe that you were so spiteful.”

“I'm sorry,” you gasped. “I did that ages ago, and I’m sorry.” You looked up at him. “You're going to leave me now, aren't you?” Jisung shook his head “You were a right asshole to break up with Mark like that, but I know who you are, y/n. There's goodness left in you still. Come on, get up. Let’s go home.”

You remembered what Jisung had said earlier before Mark had interrupted you. Jisung obviously remembered, too. He didn't say anything related to the forest, but he followed you everywhere, attempting to distract you with anything and everything possible. Your mind was working to the maximum, though. As you two watched television that evening, you gazed across at Jisung. You so badly wanted to hold his hand again and caress his palm with your thumb. You wanted to run his silken hair through your fingers, to feel his beating heart against your ear. The longing was almost destroying you. Jisung caught you staring. “You're plotting something,” he said. “I know that look in your eyes.” You smiled. “I'm not thinking of anything,” you said. Jisung sighed, raising his eyebrows. “Don't do anything stupid, please, y/n,” he said. “I won't,” you smiled.

That night, while Jisung watched you, you closed your eyes and breathed heavily under your duvet, pretending to sleep. After what felt like eons, Jisung was satisfied. “I'm going to slip out to see my mother now,” he whispered. “I'll be back later, though. I love you, y/n.” You stayed still even after the room fell into silent darkness, and took your time as you opened your eyes and sat up. To your delight, Jisung was gone. You stepped out of bed and turned on your night light, sitting down at your desk as you pulled out your paper and pens.

You wrote several letters through the night; to Jisung's mother, to your own mother, to your friends, Winter and Giselle, to your manager at work who had so patiently let you off for as long as you needed. The last letter was to Mark. In his letter, you apologised for your lies and deceit, and the way you had treated him when he brought home Jisung's ashes. You laid all the letters out on your bed, and turned to yourself in your vanity mirror. You looked tired; not just from lack of sleep, but of life overall.

You didn't lock your front door.

You climbed the steps of the apartment, not stopping even when your lungs clamoured for air and rest. The pain in your heart was stronger than ever, a demented longing that ached with every breath you took. At last, you were on the rooftop of the apartment block. The clouds from earlier on were dribbling rain, the wind a fully formed gale that blew your hair over your face and your pyjamas away from your body. Doubt gnawed at your mind. telling you to turn around and go back downstairs, but you ignored it. You were determined to get what you wanted. You grunted in pain as you scrambled atop the ledge, your heart beating faster as you looked down at the street miles below.

“I'm coming to you, Jisung,” you whispered, bending your knees.

You landed on the floor with a hard thud. Groaning in pain, you sat up, and found yourself in a lush green field full of flowers. It was a sunny day, and the blue sky was dotted with puffy clouds. You pulled yourself to your feet, frowning. It had been raining when you jumped from the apartment building, and there certainly wasn't a field below. You looked down and gasped when you saw your body covered in a beautiful flower dress, your favourite one from your wardrobe. As realisation hit you, you felt a tap on your shoulder. You spun around to see Jisung, his eyes glazed with tears. Wordlessly, you leaped forward and embraced him, tears rolling down your cheeks when you felt his arms tighten around you. You breathed in his fragrant cologne, gripped tightly onto the polyester of his football jersey.

"It worked,” you whispered into his shoulder. “I died. We can be together at last.” Jisung pulled away, his hands on your shoulders. “You can't die yet, y/n. You have to go back.”

“What do you mean?” you sobbed. “Don't you love me anymore?” Tears rolled down Jisung's face as he drew you back into his arms. “Of course I do, y/n. I always have, and I always will. But you have to be sensible.” “I don't want to be sensible!-” “Well, you're going to have to be, y/n. Think about how much it hurt your heart when I died. If you go, you're going to cause that pain for other people in your life. It will be even worse if they find out that you caused your own death.” He cupped your face with his hands. “Is that what you want to do, y/n?”

You slowly shook your head. “No.”

“Then you have to go back to your body, y/n,” Jisung whispered. “Take the chance that I didn't have. Go back and live.” “Okay,” you replied. “I'll only do it because you told me to.” You turned around to walk away, but then you went back. “Will you still be there as a ghost when I go back?” you asked. Jisung nodded. “Like I said, I'll be there for as long as you need me. But eventually, you'll need to be able to walk on your own and live life without me. Promise me that you'll do that.” “I promise,” you replied. “Thank you,” Jisung smiled.

“Can I hug you one last time?” you professed. Jisung nodded, pulling you into him wordlessly. You squeezed your eyes shut as you held on to him, doing your best to store this memory in your mind; you'd be needing it in the difficult days to come. When you pulled away, you gazed into each others’ eyes, pain and heartbreak ebbing between you. Jisung leaned towards you, placing his hand on your nape. “Can I?” he whispered. “Yes, please do,” you whispered back, closing your eyes as he placed his lips upon yours. As you kissed him, you felt a tugging sensation in your chest, too strong to overcome. You reached out for Jisung, but when you opened your eyes, all that met your eyes was pitch darkness.

“SHE'S ALIVE!” You opened your eyes to see Mark's face hovering above yours. Your pyjama top was gone, two sticky pads attached to your bare chest. “The defibrillator worked! I knew that those first aid training sessions would come in handy!” You tried to raise your head, but screamed when agony shot through your neck and back. “Leave this to us paramedics now,” came a woman's voice. “We'll handle this now. Thank you for your help.”

You were alive again, and it was no other than Mark Les who had brought you back.

When you woke up again, you were in a hospital bed, your body attached to wires and monitors. Your head was elevated by a neck brace, your face bruised and swollen. Everywhere on your body smarted painfully. “You're awake, y/n!” Mark was sat next to you in a hospital chair, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “The doctors said that you got away with only a fractured neck. It's a miracle that nothing else broke from such a fall. I've called your mother, and she's on her way. I promise that I'll clear off afterwards, though, because I've been in the wrong place at the wrong time way too often-”

He took a deep breath, cheeks red from gabbling. “It's okay,” you whispered.

“What?”

“Thank you for saving my life, Mark. I'd have been dead if it wasn't for you.” Mark squeezed your hand, his thumb caressing your knuckles. “It's okay, y/n. I'm sorry that I didn't notice how much you were struggling.”

“We're all struggling, Mark,” you replied. “What matters is how we deal with the grief. We have to be sensible about it.” Just then, your neck gave a painful twinge, and you winced, your back arching with discomfort. Mark stood up, letting go of your hand. “I'll go and get a nurse,” he said, disappearing behind the curtain.

“Well done, y/n.” You saw Jisung sitting at the foot of your bed. “Thank you for choosing to live. You won't regret it.”

“I know I won't,” you smiled. Your heart still hurt, but you knew that the healing had begun. For that, you were grateful.

-the end-

comments and reblogs greatly appreciated !! (´･ω･｀)

taglist: @cigsaftersuh @jenoleeaesthetic @pl4netx1a @jeonghansshitester @chenlezip @neodreamzenie @markkiatocafe @mejaemin

masterlist

click here!

if you have been affected by the topics in this story, please don't hesitate to reach out to these grief and sueecide management helplines:

UK: NHS Bereavement Helpline - (0800 2600 400)

USA: Crsis Support Services - (800-273-8255)

International: NBS Service - (0191 656 3201)

[International Sueecide Hotlines]

you are not alone, even if it feels that way.

#nct dream angst #nct angst #nct x reader angst #park jisung x reader #park jisung x y/n #park jisung x you #jisung x y/n angst #anniebeckcalla #fanfic #nct ff #fluff #angst #kpop angst #writing #kpop ff #kpop fanfic #nct dream

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anniebeckcalla · 14 days ago

Text

───not the right time (p.js) part 1

(bf! jisung x reader) ◦ ₊ wc2250> ◦ ₊ cwdeath, angst, grief, description of grief, bad language, ghosts, the supernatural, graphic details. ◦ ₊ cafe.

Your heart hurt.

No, that was an understatement. It ached. It burned. It throbbed. It stung. With every breath you took, your frayed heartstrings poked your ribs, shooting painful needles all over your chest.

The pain had started during the funeral. Before that, you hadn't believed that Jisung was truly gone, not when the nurse had approached you in the hospital lobby with a weary face to break the news. You'd still waited for him to walk in, even when the police had shown you the motorcycle wreck that cut his life short. It hadn't hit you even when you made funeral plans with his sobbing mother, picking out what he would wear in the casket. No, the pain waited to strike, creeping behind you as you sat in the front pew in black, listening to everyone talk about Jisung like he was a memory. It slithered around you as the casket was rolled in, and squeezed as you stood over him, gazing upon his resting face. He looks so peaceful, you'd thought to yourself. He looked as if he was about to wake up any minute.

He never did get up.

It was when they closed the lid that your heart started to hurt, the jaws of agony hacking at it messily, blood ebbing out and staining your black dress. The pain didn't go away. It just grew. It kept you up at night, stopped you from eating. Jisung was gone, and so was your peace. You noticed that your friends had slowly retreated from you; you weren't sure if you cared. Nothing that they said did anything to make you feel better. In fact, their sympathy made the pain worse. You hated their worried glances and their nervous fidgeting. You knew that they would never understand the darkness that haunted you, and that made you want to shut them out.

You hadn't cried. You wished that you could, but the tears wouldn't come. All that you did was curl up on your bedroom floor, the pain restricting any movement, time passing you in an uncanny blur. The lack of tears worried you. You felt as if you weren't missing Jisung properly, that his memory was not being honoured enough by the person who'd loved him the most. The worry only made your heart hurt the more, and so you continued to exist every day surrounded by misery and agony. Why had it been him, of all people? He was handsome, kind, and smart. He was shy, but funny and charming when it was the two of you. You two never argued. You'd never told him, but you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him, even though you two had only been dating for a year.

What had Jisung’s last thoughts been, you wondered? Had he been scared when his motorcycle swerved into the ditch? Did he die quickly, or were his last moments spent in agony while he'd bled out in the pitch dark? Your mind often went to the last message he'd sent you.

I'm on my way home.

“Hurry up,” you’d texted back, giggling as you imagined him rolling his eyes at your reply. How you wished that you'd told him that you loved him one last time. How you wished that you'd been bold enough to tell him that you wanted to marry him. You just wanted to lay your head on his shoulder one more time, to feel his strong arms around your waist, to hear his warm laugh at your corny jokes. It would never happen again, though, and the realisation dug deeper into your heart every day like a jagged piece of glass.

You didn't know how much time had passed since the funeral when you heard a knock on your door one evening, jolting you out of your curled position of anguish on the floor. You winced as you rose to your feet, pain spreading all over your body and piercing the inside of your skin as you staggered to the door. You wished you had looked through the spyglass first, because standing before you on your doormat was the person you didn't want to see the most; your ex-boyfriend, Mark Lee.

He was holding a cardboard box, a sorrowful look staining his face. “I know that this isn't a good time, y/n,” he said, and you noticed that he'd been crying. His teary eyes stirred some sort of anger within you. Why was he crying when he had virtually nothing to do with Jisung's death? “It isn't, no,” you replied, feeling horrified at how hoarse and weak your voice sounded. Mark frowned. “Everyone's been trying to reach out to you, y/n. They didn't get any reply. You…you look quite ill.” You shrugged. “Thanks. I haven't had much time for skincare.” Mark's ears turned red. “I'm sorry. That was really insensitive of me.”

There was a horrid silence.

Mark held up the box. “Jisung's ashes are in here,” he whispered. “His mother wanted you to have some, and Winter said that it would be best that…” His voice drowned out as you stared at the box. Your Jisung, who you'd only just recently seen in a casket fast asleep, was now reduced to dust in a little box. You swayed, eyes lolling as a black tunnel appeared in your vision. Mark lept forward. “Woah, woah. It's okay. I've got you.”

You awoke on your sofa, cold sweat forming beads on your forehead. Mark was sweeping the piles of rubbish into a plastic bag, but when he noticed you were awake, he rushed over to your side. “Y/n! You passed out. I'm sorry. That must have been too much for you to handle in one go. It's only been three weeks since the funeral.” “Three weeks,” you whispered. Mark glanced around the living room. “There was a lot of trash around the room. I've cleaned it, and I put the dirty laundry in the washer. I hope that's okay.” You turned your face away from Mark, clutching your chest. You hated the way that he cared for you, hated how he still showed you kindness even after you let him down.

“Why you?” you croaked, staring at the leather of the sofa. “I don't know what you mean,” Mark replied softly. “Why was it you who brought the ashes instead of Jisung’s mother?” “I don't know if Jisung told you this, but we were best friends when we were little,” Mark said. “We used to do everything together. Our mothers stayed friends even after we grew apart. I've been staying with Jisung's mother right now to help her with things, so when we didn't get any reply on the phone from you, Winter suggested that I come over with the ashes to give to you.” You slowly rolled over to face Mark.

“You're my ex, Mark. I don't care what you and Jisung had. I bet you did this on purpose, bringing my boyfriend's ashes to me to prove who lasted the longest.” Mark winced visibly, and you almost smiled at his hurt face. Composing himself, he smiled at you. “I think you're hungry, y/n. Food does wonders for the soul. I'll cook you something, and then you can open the cardboard box. I'll stay, because it can be very scary to do that alone-”

“Get out,” you hissed. “Get the fuck out of my house. I don't want to see your face ever again.” Mark paused, eyes brimming with tears. “Can't you hear?” you shouted. “I told you to get out of my house!” Raising your hand, you added, “I’m not scared to call the police!” “I'm sorry,” Mark gulped. Without another word, he let himself out. Your heart beat faster as you sat up and turned towards the box on the coffee table, the pain worse than ever before. With trembling hands, you reached out and picked it up, your nails clawing at the duct tape that sealed it shut. Inside the box was a clear bag of grey powder. You picked it up. It was cool and light in your palm. Way too light. You closed your eyes and saw the flames enveloping Jisung's resting body, leaving the ashes in their wake, and your heart gave another painful jolt.

Suddenly, your stomach heaved, and you gave a dry retch, tears stinging your eyes. You reached again, but this time, it turned into a sob, the tears rolling down your face. The sobs shook your body as your cries grew louder and louder, turning into walls and then screams as grief crashed upon your shoulders. The pain squeezed your ribs tighter and tighter with every sob, and as you fell to your knees, you were sure that you were going to cough your heart up in a bloody heap on the rug.

“Why are you crying?”

You froze when you heard the man’s voice, wondering if Mark had come back in the house again. You turned around...and shrieked at what-or rather who- you saw.

There was Jisung, as real as ever, wearing a football jersey and tracksuit bottoms. He had a smile on his handsome face. “Missing me, are you?” he said. You pointed to the ashes, backing away from him. “You're dead,” you whispered. “I saw you at the funeral. You died.” Jisung rolled his eyes. “Of course I'm dead, silly. I'm a ghost now.” You backed away further. “I'm hallucinating,” you gasped. “I've gone mad.” Jisung shrugged, sitting down on the sofa. “Remember how you always believed that ghosts were real and I didn't? Well, I believe you now. I guess that you could say that I'm living- well, dead proof.” He laughed out loud at his joke, and it sounded so much like him that you smiled for the first time since before the tragedy.

Hallucination or not, you decided to believe that Jisung's ghost had come to comfort you. Ever so slightly, the pain in your heart eased by one notch. You stood up and eased yourself down beside Jisung. “Can I hug you?” you whispered. Jisung pressed his lips together, looking down. Tears beaded your eyes. “Well, Jisung? Can I?” Jisung looked up at you. “Go ahead, love. But you won't be able to feel anything.” “What do you mean?” “I'm a ghost, y/n. You can see me, but you can't feel me.” The tears rolled down your cheeks as you forced a smile. “Oh, well. I guess we can't have it all, can we?"

Jisung opened his arms, and you leaned into him, your arms tightened around what felt like air. “You feel so far away,” you sobbed. Jisung patted your back. “I feel far away, but I'm still here,” he said. “I'll stay with you for as long as you need me.” “I'll never stop needing you,” you whispered. “That's how you feel right now, y/n,” Jisung muttered. You embraced for a long time. Of course, it wasn't like the real thing, but ghost Jisung was better than no Jisung. At last, you pulled away. Jisung's brows furrowed as he gazed at you, reaching his hand out to cup your face. “You look so tired,” he muttered. “You've become so skinny and gaunt.” “I didn't know what to do with myself when you…when the accident happened,” you replied. “It hurts here, in my chest,”

You pointed to yourself, and Jisung sighed. “It's grief, y/n. I'm sorry that I've put you and my mother through so much pain through my death.” You shuddered as Jisung’s hand left your face and rested upon your palm. “What was it like…when you…”

“When I died?” Jisung finished the sentence. “Don't be scared of the word, love. It's okay.” He sighed. “I didn't feel anything. One minute, I was riding my motorcycle, the next minute. I was in an ambulance, and my head was hurting. My last thought was how late I was and how worried you would be waiting for me at home.” “You were thinking about me,” you croaked. “Of course I was,” Jisung smiled. “I wasn't in much pain, though. Don't worry.” He stood up. “What we need to worry about, though, is you. You need to eat something right now, because in the nicest way, you look awful.”

“You never change, not even from the other side,” you laughed, making your way to the kitchen. It was like old times as you prepared and ate a meal for the first time in a long while. (Jisung watched you eat. He didn't need food anymore.) You took special effort to wash, brushing out all the knots in your hair and applying nice perfume. (Jisung watched. He didn't need to wash anymore.) As you settled into bed, Jisung lay next to you on his side. Just like he always used to do, he smoothed your hair away from your face in a repeated motion. You couldn't feel it, but you closed your eyes, your heart easing all the more. “Will you be there when I wake up in the morning?” you whispered.

“Yes, y/n, stop worrying. Go to sleep.” For the first time since the tragedy, you slept without the pain staining your dreams.

When you woke up the next morning, you jolted as last night's memory returned to you, and smiled as you remembered Jisung seeing you off to sleep. You rubbed your eyes as they adjusted to the light, expecting to see Jisung's silhouette lying next to you. The space next to you was empty and bare.

Jisung was gone.

end of part one.

comments and reblogs greatly appreciated !! (´･ω･｀)

taglist: @cigsaftersuh @jenoleeaesthetic @pl4netx1a @jeonghansshitester @herjaemin @chenlezip @neodreamzenie @markkiatocafe

masterlist

click here!

if you have been affected by the topics in this story, please don't hesitate to reach out to these grief management helplines:

UK: NHS Bereavement Helpline - (0800 2600 400)

USA: Crsis Support Services - (800-273-8255)

International: NBS Service - (0191 656 3201)

You are not alone, even if it feels that way.

#nct angst #nct dream angst #park jisung x reader #park jisung x y/n #jisung x y/n #park jisung imagines #park jisung angst #nct dream fanfic #nct dream ff #anniebeckcalla #fanfic #nct ff #writing #kpop ff #kpop fanfic #nct dream

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anniebeckcalla · 14 days ago

Text

───not the right time (p.js) contents

(bf! jisung x reader) ◦ ₊ cwdeath, angst, grief, description of grief, bad language, ghosts, the supernatural, graphic details. ◦ ₊ cafe.

part i

part ii

if you have been affected by the topics in this story, please don't hesitate to reach out to these grief management helplines:

UK: NHS Bereavement Helpline - (0800 2600 400)

USA: Crsis Support Services - (800-273-8255)

International: NBS Service - (0191 656 3201)

You are not alone, even if it feels that way.

#park jisung angst #jisung x reader #jisung x you #nct dream angst #contents #masterlist #anniebeckcalla

6 notes · View notes

anniebeckcalla · 14 days ago

Text

───not the right time (p.js) part 1

(bf! jisung x reader) ◦ ₊ wc2250> ◦ ₊ cwdeath, angst, grief, description of grief, bad language, ghosts, the supernatural, graphic details. ◦ ₊ cafe.

Your heart hurt.

No, that was an understatement. It ached. It burned. It throbbed. It stung. With every breath you took, your frayed heartstrings poked your ribs, shooting painful needles all over your chest.

He never did get up.

I'm on my way home.

There was a horrid silence.

“Why are you crying?”

You froze when you heard the man’s voice, wondering if Mark had come back in the house again. You turned around...and shrieked at what-or rather who- you saw.

“Yes, y/n, stop worrying. Go to sleep.” For the first time since the tragedy, you slept without the pain staining your dreams.

Jisung was gone.

end of part one.

comments and reblogs greatly appreciated !! (´･ω･｀)

taglist: @cigsaftersuh @jenoleeaesthetic @pl4netx1a @jeonghansshitester @herjaemin @chenlezip @neodreamzenie @markkiatocafe

masterlist

click here!

if you have been affected by the topics in this story, please don't hesitate to reach out to these grief management helplines:

UK: NHS Bereavement Helpline - (0800 2600 400)

USA: Crsis Support Services - (800-273-8255)

International: NBS Service - (0191 656 3201)

You are not alone, even if it feels that way.

21 notes · View notes