#last week was just so insane plus i’m still sick so i didn’t want to post half asses chapters that i’m not proud of
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chososcamgirl · 1 month ago
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i’ve been feeling so uninspired as of lately so i’m not going to post the previous chapters i missed the last week, but instead sticking to my schedule so i can avoid burnout😭 but i want sjap to end before christmas so after this week, expect 3 chapters posted per week! sorry for the lack of consistency, but hopefully this week ill get back to regular posting!
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dellalyra · 1 year ago
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𝙗𝙪𝙞𝙡𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙨 - 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴
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Summary: The early days of pregnancy are taking it’s toll. Thanks, Akio.
A/N: my darling doll @soraya-daydreams coming in clutch again with the bestest ideas.
CW: pregnancy, vomiting, sweetness, fluffy
Taglist? Taglist.
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The toilet in your office had become your best friend in the last couple of weeks, seeing that you felt like you spent more time with it than your husband. You were only 10 weeks pregnant, but the morning sickness of your first trimester was kicking your ass to the moon and back. Also, calling it morning sickness is a lie.
It was 24/7 sickness. You found that eating small amounts often helped keep your stomach settled. Satoru had been fretting over you, fussing and driving Shoko insane, no matter how much you tried to convince him this was all part of early pregnancy. The baby was healthy, you were healthy and this was all just part of growing a person.
But, that didn’t make it any easier. You were so tired, and hungry - but no food tasted like what you wanted. You wanted taiyaki, but you couldn’t get any and the crackers you kept in your desk to keep the nausea at bay had started to taste like cardboard. Your emotions were running rampant and you couldn’t think straight, having been woken at 5am by the bile in your stomach rising for the day. Your boobs were starting to hurt, you were so frazzled by everything that you just tried to set yourself on autopilot to get through the day. You didn’t want Satoru to worry any more than he already was - you were okay, really, and the thought of causing him more stress upset you more than any of it, Shoko - being the doctor she was, helped you with whatever you needed but she had been so busy all week you didn’t get to see her too much - plus, she didn’t need the added workload. Nanami, well - as much of a darling as he is, is still Nanami.
You were currently sitting on your office sofa, head leaning against the back and eyes closed as you breathed through your nose to try and combat the swelling feeling of sickness in your stomach. There was a knock at the door, and in walked Megumi.
“Hey sweetheart, you doing okay?” You ask, opening one eye to look at him.
“Yeah, could you sign this? It’s last weeks mission summary, it needs to be signed by a supervising sorcerer and you came on that mission with us.” He says, passing you a stack of papers, mission summaries being part of the curriculum that Yaga prepared, meant to be positive practice for record keeping after graduation and time to report any issues.
“Course, ‘Gumi. Just -” as the words came out of your mouth you felt your stomach twist and you stood and bolted to the bathroom like lightning, leaving a confused boy in your wake. You slammed the door behind you and made it to the toilet bowl just in time, heaving what little breakfast you had managed into the toilet.
After a moment, you took a deep breath and sat back on your heels, wiping your mouth as a knock on the door echoed through the room. Megumi opens it, holding your big pink water bottle which you see he had filled up. He looked unnerved, and came toward you like a person approaching a wild lion.
“Um… I thought you’d need a drink. Do you - want anything else? Should I get dad?” He asks. You really don’t want to worry him, or anyone else - because this really wasn’t anything to fret over.
You smiled as you took the bottle, and took a drink. You take your hair from its ponytail and attempt to fix it in the mirror.
“No, sweet boy, I’m okay. Just your sibling making sure we know they’re there. Definitely your dads kid.” You smile, rolling your eyes as you go to stand - which you instantly regret. There’s no warning, just a wave of hot liquid which you barely manage to get into the toilet. You cringe, knowing Megumi is still behind you but your fears of him being afraid seeing his mom vomit are assuaged when you feel a cold hand wrap around your hair and hold it back out of your way. Just as Satoru has been doing every morning for the last 3 weeks, as he rubs your back and wipes your forehead. You can’t help the tears that spring to your eyes, as you wipe your face and turn to him.
“I’m so sorry, ‘Gumi, nobody needs to see that. I’m okay, I promise.” You say, patting his free hand.
“Mom, shut up. You’re okay, yeah, but you don’t have to do this alone, I know you don’t want to worry us but we want to help you - okay?” His stern eyes are focused on you, as he flicks your forehead. That was the straw that broke the camels back as you fell forward into his chest and sobbed. He froze, pulling his arms to hesitantly pat your back. He didn’t know what to do now, how do you comfort a crying pregnant woman on a bathroom floor? Should he Google it? His dad was away on a mission all day with the second years. Emotions aren’t really… his forte. That’s way more Itadori’s thing.
Itadori! He patted your back awkwardly, then pulled away.
“I’ll be right back mom. Wait here.” He says, and resorted to patting you on the head.
A moment later, the door opens again and Yuuji and Megumi enter again. Yuuji immediately gasps at seeing you crying on the bathroom floor and rushes to your side.
“Y/N! Are you okay? Megumi said you were sick!” He asks, wrapping you in a hug as you nod.
“It’s morning sickness, Itadori. Because of the baby.” Megumi says, from his perch on your desk.
“Oh yeah! Do you think you’ll be sick again?” He asks you and you shake your head.
“Okay! Oh no! You’re so sweaty, here, let’s get you a cloth.” He stands up as he wets a cloth and dabs your forehead, the show of kindness only making you cry harder - hormones in full force.
“Hey, Fushiguro - Google what’s good for morning sickness!” He says, and without warning, you feel a strong pair of arms under your knees and around your back as Yuuji swoops you up like you weight nothing due to his unnerving strength and walks you over to your office sofa. He gently places you down, and takes the fuzzy blanket off the arm of the sofa to drape over you as he sits beside you and pulls your body into an all encompassing bear hug. Stroking your hair.
Megumi is slack jawed on the desk, he knew Yuuji was caring, and endlessly kind but seeing him care for you, his mom, like it was second nature awakened something in him. It clicked in that moment.
He had a crush on Yuuji Itadori.
The fluffy haired, pink tinged boy who’s unnaturally strong arms are laced around his shoulders of the woman who raised him, pressing soft, soothing circles into her shoulders and asking her what she needs with big, bright chocolate brown eyes. He’s had crushes before, admiring people he knew in school or that one girl in his old debate club. Yet, the way his heart seemed to seize, or skip a beat when Yuuji entered a room, or how he couldn’t help but crack a small smile at his antics, or how he couldn’t help but look for him in every crowded room, or sit beside him in every class, restaurant, train, cinema. How he felt a heat in his cheeks when Itadori would train shirtless and sweaty wasn’t just from being impressed at the boy’s strength, or how he wondered if Yuuji’s hair was as soft as it looked, or how his large, calloused hands would feel in his. None of that was friendship. Well, it was. It was also more. He saw that now, clear as day.
Well.
Shit.
“Fushiguro?” The boy is question’s voice snaps him out of his trance as he freezes. These emotions could be dealt with at a later time.
He flicks his eyes up, seeing the questioning look on Itadori’s face made him look back to his phone and try to concentrate on finding ways to help the crying woman on the sofa. He cleared his throat.
“I’ll be right back, apparently ginger tea helps.” He says, and darts out of the room to the kitchen.
Yuuji blinked at his odd behaviour. He felt like he knew Megumi Fushiguro pretty well by now, seeing as he couldn’t help but spend every moment looking or listening to him. He’d known since the moment Fushiguro came in to the crematorium, battered and bruised but instructing him to join him at school that he had a painfully large crush on the taller boy. Hell, even seeing him for the first time in the hospital Yuuji thought he was the prettiest boy he’d seen in his life. Yuuji knew he was bisexual, he had had a few short term, middle school girlfriends and had gone on dates with guys before but had never felt that searing attraction and overwhelming attachment to anyone before like he had with Megumi.
A sniffle broke him from his thoughts as he saw you in his arms.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to call Gojo-Sensei?” He asked.
“No! Don’t bother him. He’s so excited about the baby I just don’t want him to feel like he has to worry about me when he already has so much on his shoulders. I am so sorry you two have to see me like this, I didn’t mean to have you guys watching over me - you all probably have better things to do.” You say, wiping your cheeks on your sleeve.
“Ah-ah! No! Bad Y/N Sensei! You’re making a whole ass human, you’re allowed to let people pamper you! When Nobara makes cookies she expects praise for a week afterward! Plus, we wanna mind you! Megumi the mostest, he was talking last weekend about introducing his shikigami to the scent of the baby early so they can watch over them too. Nobara is researching the best beauty regimes for pregnant women, and I’ve been learning how to make baby food! I also am learning to crochet, so I can make stuffies! That’s only us three. Inumaki was telling the group chat that Okkotsu had sent a photo of a baby blanket he got in Africa for the baby, and Nanamin already has started calling the baby his niece or nephew! That’s not even including the main person who is here for you - Gojo-sensei! I don’t think he’s spoken about anything but you or the baby in weeks, he even asked us to help him find all the books on babies in the library.” He says, arms waving around.
Your eyes well up again, but with happy, warm tears this time and you can’t help but laugh at the idea of Sukuna’s vessel crocheting.
“You don’t have to do this alone, Y/N sensei. You once said that it takes a village to raise a child? We’re your village.” He says, and pats the top of your head.
You open your phone, looking through your camera roll - when you find the photo you want you pass it to him.
“Only me, Shoko, Satoru and ‘Gumi have seen this.” You say, smiling softly at him as he stares at the screen.
“Is this - ?” He asks, mouth gaping and eyes wide.
“That’s lil’ mochi. We got a sonogram at the weekend.” You beam at him. This boy is so kind, so endlessly gentle and you’re so thankful for him - but something, call it mother’s intuition, tells you he’s going to be in your lives for a very long time. You’d guess, in relation to your eldest son.
“Holy shit! That’s so fucking cool! Is that their little hands?!” He asks, pointing to the 3D sonogram photo and you nod, beaming.
“Your sensei calls them lil’mochi because he thinks that’s what their head looks like.” You laugh.
At that moment, Megumi comes into the room, holding a mug and a Nobara in tow.
“Y/N! Okay so - if your morning sickness is bad my grandma used to say that meant you were having a girl! That’s so exciting! Also - when my aunt was pregnant she liked sour candy, so here’s some sour patch kids from the vending machine. Fushiguro has your ginger tea. Do you want me to braid your hair so it’s out of your face?” She asks in a verbal stream of consciousness, hands on her hips and she squeals seeing the open sonogram on your phone.
You take the tea from your eldest boy, who uses the back of his hand to test your forehead. Nodding wordlessly when he likes what he finds. You whisper a soft thank you to him and he gives you a small smile. Your stomach settles as Nobara sits behind you on the top of the sofa and braids your hair, while Yuuji chats away absentmindedly. Megumi knows you said not to, but he opens his phone anyway.
💬Dad:
Mom is sick bc of the baby this morning - she keeps saying she doesn’t wanna bother or worry anyone , for some reason she actually listens to you so can you try talk some sense into her? We’re taking care of her today.
Before he even locks his phone he hears a thud from the corner of the room.
“Princess! Is mochi making momma ill?! Nooooo, Mochi! You gotta be nice to Momma! She’s an angel and she is making you!” He says as he flings himself at your feet, kneeling between your knees and kissing your belly. You don’t even shriek, so completely used to your husbands sudden warping.
“Silly momma! Princess, my sweet girl - you should have told me the morning sickness was bad today! You didn’t make this baby alone, so you’re not gonna create it alone!” He says and all the kids cringe at his wording.
“I just didn’t wanna worry you, ‘Toru. But I’m guessing Megumi decided to take action anyway, because he’s as stubborn as you.” You say, eyes turning to the dark haired boy, who just raises an eyebrow and shrugs. You just laugh, knowing there’s no fighting your two boys when it comes to caring for you.
Nobara jumps from behind you, grabbing Yuuji by the hand and Megumi as they leave.
“C’mon, you two, before they start trying to make another one.” She says, laughing, but knowing it’s time for you and Satoru to have a moment alone. Her phrasing makes Megumi die a little inside, remembering the unpleasant experience of being 13 and coming home unexpectedly early from a cancelled after school club.
The door shuts, but not before you say.
“Megumi.”
The boys turns in the doorway as his friends walk ahead.
“Thank you, sweet boy.” You say, smiling, and petting the white hair of the man who is still kneeling at your feet - whispering chastisement’s to the fetus causing you annoyance.
He nods, and smiles, and closes the door behind him, leaving his parents to have some time, knowing there is nothing, or nobody, on this planet who can comfort or make you feel more loved or safe than your adoring husband, Gojo Satoru.
“Princess, why didn’t you want to tell me? I’m not mad, sweet girl - I just want to be here for you. I know we’ve had ‘Miki and Megumi, but this - pregnancy, babies, it’s all new for us, and I bet you’re pretty scared.” He says, standing to sit beside you and pull you into his lap, accommodating you on his wide thighs.
You lean into his chest, inhaling the sandalwood scent.
“I just - you already have so much to deal with, and I didn’t wanna add this on too, because the baby is healthy, and I’m healthy, it’s just this is a really shitty part of pregnancy. Also… this sounds dumb when I say it out loud, but - after you, I’m the strongest sorcerer, and I didn’t… I didn’t want anyone thinking I was weakened.” You say, nuzzling into him, grateful to have a husband you feel so at home and comfortable with that after some coaxing, you can share your deepest feelings without reserve.
“Oh my pretty girl - look at me. You -” he pokes your nose lovingly, with his blindfold off and stares at you with so much love in his gaze that it takes you back - even though you have seen that same emotional gaze every day for almost 12 years.
“You - are the strongest. You’re doing something that I can’t, you’re making a whole person. I gave you some equipment and you’re building it from scratch, if you ask me - that’s the strongest, bravest thing I’ve ever heard. You’re incredible, Princess, and as the strongest sorcerer beside you - you can lean on me. We’re in this together, like we’ve done everything, okay? Plus - you might be pregnant but I saw the way you smashed that second grade without lifting a finger from your milkshake last week.” He strokes your cheek, pressing kisses to the side of your head as you squeeze into him even more, closing your eyes and just basking in the moment of vulnerability with your soulmate.
“I love you, ‘Toru.” You say, kissing the place where his heart is.
“I love you too, princess.” He says, smiling and wrapping his strong arms around your waist.
You guys are quiet for a moment.
“Have you noticed how Yuuji looks at Megumi?” You say, and Satoru smirks, eyes sparkling.
“Eh - obviously. Six eyes. But, have you noticed how Megumi blushes whenever Yuuji compliments him?”
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Recommended Listening:
cinnamon girl - lana del rey
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6feathered6siren6 · 26 days ago
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Neverending
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Notes: Part two of "Winding back the clock", I actually like this idea and wrote a lot for it. Plus I still have more, but I want to take a break from this before I burn out on it.
Trigger warnings
Death
Dissociation
Murder
Insanity
═════════•°• ⚠ •°•═════════
『00:27』
Somehow you and Angel were dating, you forgot how, maybe you lost that memory. But Angel was worried for you. She has not allowed you to leave her apartment. 
“Angel, love. I have to leave.” You said, sure you were tired, but you can try and find some info about this loop thing. But you did not want to sleep. You did not want to see what terrors that would be in that land. 
She was in front of her front door with her arms crossed. She was still stern. “No, hon, you are looking like you are about to drop dead. When was the last time you slept?” She stepped closer and put her hand on your cheek. It was soft, like the first time she did that gesture. 
“I can’t, I have work to do. I can’t lay down,” You move your face away from her grasp. Her eyes widened before looking sad, disappointed, and almost frustrated. 
It was February, you guys officially started dating but there is less than a month before time goes back, or that her manager dies on that day. You remember she was ruthlessly working to the brink of losing herself. 
“You saved me, why can’t I save you?” You blinked. ‘Saved her’... What did she mean by that? “You helped me get rid of Filian, why can’t I get rid of your demons for you? You need a hand. Let me be there for you. I’m your girlfriend, let me in.” 
You looked at her crossed off calendar, you had less than two weeks. It seems you have already reached a good ending here. Why not savor it for a bit? You released your breath and looked defeated. “Okay..”
She smiled, gently grasping your hand and leading to her bed. She made you lay down, lifting your head to be on her lap. She played with your hair as she looked down. 
“You scare me sometimes, y’know.” Her voice was soft, gentle even. Like if she raised her voice, something would shatter. And you think it would be you that would shatter. “You are this person, so strong headed. Working so hard, and you know, everytime you turn on your computer, your icon for the server is on. I would check it to see if you are asleep sometimes. It would worry me when I see you online. Ronin could track how long with his admin access.” You weren’t looking at her, you felt guilty for that. Making her feel bad. “I… a whole week. And I know you weren’t at your job. I called your job, I was gonna surprise you with this lunch, and they said you haven’t shown up and you were fired.”  
You felt droplets on your cheek, you looked up at her. She was… crying . “What’s wrong? Please let me help you. I can’t let you suffer alone. Not like how I was. Please.” You sat up and wiped her eyes. “I don’t want to see you drop dead. Not now, not ever.” 
You pulled her into your arms, feeling her sob into your chest. You didn’t know what happened in this loop. But this is one thing you learned, you lost a piece of yourself. 
-
Angel cried to the point she fell asleep. You were laying down with her still on your chest. You felt nothing but guilt, this was someone who was your friend, your girlfriend in some loops. And seeing her act like this… it hurt you but at the same time you didn’t feel anything. 
You felt broken .
『00:32』
Hearing Ronin’s lines again and again, the moment you were told what you would have choose, you just broke down. You couldn’t stab him, not after the first time, nor could you kiss him. You felt so broken, hearing his chuckle and his snarky comments. You felt like you lost so much through these loops. Never getting an ending or able to continue to date him. You were so sick of it, you felt your hot tears stream down. It was never fair, why can you continue? 
You felt a hand pull you to Ronin’s chest. “Didn’t think you would break down for a choice like this. Thought you could handle it.” 
Your hands found his shirt, it was wet through this pouring rain. Your grip was tight, making your knuckles white. Meanwhile, Ronin’s hands are in your soaking hair, brushing it softly. 
“There has to be why you are so broken in my arms, Darling. Not like I like it either, like something else is corrupting you. Making you a puppet of sorts.”
You shivered under the cold air, “I’m sorry… I will make it up to you. I promise.”
『00:50』
You gasped as you went back again. Hand over your panicked heart, you were coughing. Like you were trying to throw up the blood from the last loop. You fucked up. Way too early. You didn’t know what would happen when you died. But you know now. You go back in time. A reset. 
This could bring up opportunities, new ideas. You felt the smile from your hand. The laughter that filled the room didn’t feel right. And it was from you.  
You looked at the screen, the invite waiting for you. 
“Let’s play a game, shall we?”
『-̵̳͈͍̠̈́-̸̨̘̺̤͑̄̄͠:̵̬̪̃̎̔̚͜-̸͚͗̏-̴̡̡̗̂̓̃』
“Loops are tied over and over, but nothing will go forward. Time can be altered. Not the one you need to find. Find the mastermind. Kill them to go forward. Reach for the stars then and you can be with your lover. 
Good luck Reader, you will need it. - Your perfect victim <3”
『00:87』
You were covered in blood with a manic smile that could even scare the Joker . You were done with this, how long will this go on? But you wanted to find who did this loop thing. They left a message, one of taunting. And you wanted them dead. 
You never joined the server this loop, nor the last one. Sure, you would like to talk to them, but this. This was so important, they could wait. You wanted to know who cursed you, and you don’t care how long this took. 
Laughter filled the night for months. The killer was on the loose. They called you ‘The Shadow’. A weird name, but whatever, you weren’t a killer to the point of the others. Not like Ronin. 
“I finally found you.” 
You know that voice, you turn your head to see the vilagente himself. And you haven’t joined the server. Interesting. 
“Hello, there. Can I help you?” You tilted your head, holding your bat that was covered in blood behind your head. It was making your hair messier than it was. The same smile plastered on your face. One that you gave to him in the past before. 
He holded his knife up, like one wrong move from you and you were gone. “What’s your M.O., Shadow?” 
You blinked a couple times. “M.O.?” You hummed. “To find the one who caused this, V.”
He took a step back as you said his name. He didn’t know you yet, and you know him. His dagger was now protecting him. “How did you know my name?” 
“Sorry, can’t tell you.” You kept this time loop to yourself, you aren’t gonna start now, not ever. You can do this yourself. “Word of advice though. Your friends care about you more than you think. Even the asshole ones.” You started walking towards him. “See you again, V.” 
Walking past him, you could see the fear in his eyes. 
You got home and washed any blood off with perfect practice. In the bathroom, you look at yourself for a moment, your hair… Picking up the blade and now your hair is shorter and uneven. You can fix it later, but V knows your basic appearance, your hair and its color. Why not fuck with V while looking for your tormentor. This could be fun, right?
-
Your hair is a dark blueish purple, a joke for the killer name the people picked for you. You walked through the night, your bat clean and ready. Who is next?
As you were about to walk past Ronin’s territory, you were pulled with a crowbar pinning you to the wall. Ronin was holding it against you. His expression was one you haven’t seen yet. He was pissed beyond any god could make him. 
“Howdy, Devil. Can I help you this fine evening?” You were calm, not the first time you were threatened to be killed, but in front of his crowbar, sure it’s new. But not scary. 
He growled slowly, “A new threat, wanting to see who is stealing headlines. Shadow, right?”
Raising your hands, surrendering and not about to fight someone. “That’s what they call me.” Your smile was back, not one for love. But one that plastered from finding your violator, the one who claims to be your perfect victim. 
He pulls his crowbar away, “What’s your deal?” He took a step back from seeing that smile on your face. 
“I want revenge.” You said with no hesitation. 
“Makes the both of us.” Simple and short. He doesn’t seem happy nor make any snarky comments that twisted you. 
You pondered, it was a few days ago since you saw V. Did he call Ronin because you called V by his nickname? Making the admin take care of the issue? You tilt your head, looking at The Butcher in his alleyway with little light that was offered 
“If you’re worried about me killing you or your friends, it won’t happen. Promise.” 
Ronin’s eyes harden. He didn’t like that. 
“But I must be off, I have to find the one who mocked my life. Have a nice night killing, Ronin.” You walked off without realizing you called Ronin by name. You got 10 steps away from the alleyway before you were hit from the back of the head. 
“Fuck.” You were back in your room again. Note to self: 'Don't say Ronin’s name if he doesn’t know you.’ 
But you made progress. 
『--:--』
Rules to self in loops
Don’t go anyones ‘bad ending’(They deserve better)
Mass murdering gets you nowhere(Can not find the ‘Victim’)
Whatever the Victim said, remember it well, you can not bring the messages into the loops, and they do not repeat it. 
Never say Ronin’s name without meeting him and his full name before March. 
Remember the first couple loops, don’t forget the feeling. Don’t lose yourself. 
Vince and Ai hua are married with two kids, don’t disrupt them and they are good in your book. 
Learn as much as you can, any information can be useful. 
Killing people with little pattern will get V to try and kill you
Treat people right with your real identity 
Don’t piss off rich people(Who tipped Misaki is a bitch.(Could also be Victim, still unsure))
『00:41』
Luca and Feli dragged you into VC, a rare thing, but you joined. Luca and Feli were people you didn’t interact with as much. You do want to get to know them better, like you did get them together so many times. But they are already together. What else are they bugging you for? 
“Hey man!” Luca yelled out, excited as ever. “So me and Feli had this idea! And…”
Feli sighed, like she rolled her eyes. “Luca and I want to hang out with you in person. Like fly over here.”
“And to thank you for getting us together, and getting our heads out of our-” 
“Luca.” You can hear her struggling a bit with him. But still feel the love vibe off of her. “We want to repay you. Like he said, you helped us get together and we want to repay the favor.” 
You thought for a moment, this loop was calm, not too murderous. You were just laying around this loop. Why write when you need to learn more skills? But they do bring a point. Why not a new environment? It could bring ideas.
『00:82』
Christmas was a holiday you celebrated before, now… it’s just a normal day. A day with no emotions and happiness. You were on the roof, cold to the point your lips turned blue. You are currently missing the Christmas dinner from the server. But that doesn't matter now, “Victim”, as they called themselves, sent the first message. So there was something, someone that caused this. And they know you remember.
This seems like a game. A game of hide and seek. And they made you the seeker. Take a thing from Ronin's book and you are gonna kill them, kill everyone until you find them. The bat that would be your new mark lays on a seat waiting with a note from them again. 
“Find me Reader :), End these loops.”
* ‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.° 。˚𓆛˚。 °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊ * ‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.° 。˚𓆛˚。 °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊
Finished this part, now I'm gonna draw some snippets of this fic.
Words: 2,153
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heavencasteel420 · 10 months ago
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I probably won't finish the fifth chapter of Tonight, Tonight, the Highway's Bright until Tuesday or so, but in honor of the We Love Jancy Fanfic Event, I'm posting the first bit (Nancy's letter to Jonathan) right here:
Dear Jonathan,
Guess who’s grounded for a week because she disappeared for almost three hours on Thanksgiving Day? That’s right—it’s me! Mom was frantic when I came home, with Dad and all the relatives tiptoeing around her, nibbling on hors d’ouvres. Apparently she’d called Steve (even though he was in Virginia with his grandparents for Thanksgiving) and Tommy (as though I’d spend any time with Tommy on my own) and Carol (which at least makes sense—she was in town and we do hang out a lot, unfortunately). Plus half a dozen other people from school, so everybody’s whispering about how I’ve gone crazy again. I guess I’m lucky, because if I hadn’t broken my hand and screamed at my mom in front of everyone last winter, they’d be gossiping about how I must have been cheating on Steve, or doing drugs in the woods, or going to the Planned Parenthood in Bloomington for a VD test. I’m insane enough that nobody has a problem believing that I’d skip out on Thanksgiving just to smoke cigarettes and listen to The Lexicon of Love in my car by myself.
(Do you like ABC? I bet not. I bet they’re too goofy for you.)
That’s what I told everyone, by the way. I figured you wouldn’t want everyone in your business, even though you don’t live here anymore. I thought about telling Mom, because she always liked you and she’d be glad to hear you were doing all right. She’d probably say something to Dad, though, and he’d let it slip to people at his job. I thought about telling Steve, too, because he’s maybe the only person who seems to think I was acting weird (for me, I mean). He keeps asking why I didn’t just fake sick or go to Carol’s if I needed a break from my family. That’s what he does when things are tense at home, basically: pretend to be too tired from basketball practice and hole up in his bedroom, or visit me or Tommy. Sometimes I worry that he has the idea that I’m cheating, like maybe Billy Hargrove said something to him, but I don’t really think that’s it. He’d be mad at me and Billy, and he’d be hurt, and he’d have every right to feel that way, but he wouldn’t be too scared to ask me if it was true. Because that would be a shitty thing to do—it was shitty to let Billy feel me up that one time—but sometimes normal girls cheat on their boyfriends. He’d know what to do with that—dump me or forgive me or get back at me with some other girl. But I don’t think he even knows what he’s afraid I’m doing.
Speaking of being afraid to ask things, Mom hasn’t said one word about the cobbler. At first I assumed she’d forgotten—there were two pies and cookies and ice cream for the dessert already—but then Dad asked if there were any leftovers of the cobbler on Sunday, and she told him it’d all been eaten up. Maybe it was. It’d be a lot for one person, but probably your roommate ate some of it. What’s he like, anyway? I don’t think I even asked whether you met him through school or work or what. I guess I talk a lot about myself. Did you like the cobbler?
Well, I get out of prison on Saturday. I’m going shopping for winter formal dresses with Carol. I am not looking forward to it. All the girls have been bringing catalogs and magazines to school this week so they can show each other their favorites, but it just makes me sad. Barb and I used to look over Seventeen for hours and talk about what we’d wear to high school dances, when that was still years away. We used to wear matching outfits. Do you remember that? The same styles, but different colors, because I was a brunette and she was a redhead. Like Betsy-Tacy. But you’ve probably never heard of Betsy-Tacy.
Anyway, Carol’s a redhead, too, and she’s mad because pink dresses are so “in” this year. It’s hard to find one that’s any other color. She thinks it’s some kind of fashion law that you can’t wear pink if you’re a redhead, even though all the magazines say that you just need to pick a shade that complements your hair color. She told me that’s just a lie advertisers made up to sell lipsticks. (There’s no way you’re interested in this debate, but you’re going to hear all about it, anyway.) She’s been pissing off all the other girls by criticizing their dress choices. Chrissy Cunningham, one of the cheerleaders, almost cried because Carol said her carnation-pink Gunne Sax gown would made her complexion “look like ass.” And Nicole Evans isn’t speaking to her because she said Nicole could wear anything she wanted, because she “has a face like an angry hardboiled egg no matter what she does.”
(I feel bad for Nicole—her face doesn’t actually look like an egg—but I’d feel worse for her if she wasn’t always talking behind my back about how sad and boring and not-that-cute I am, and how she can’t believe Steve ever looked at me twice. She’s not totally off-base, but I don’t think she should blame me for Steve’s bad taste, ha ha.)
About the only girls who are still talking to Carol are me and Heather Holloway. Heather has black hair and looks gorgeous in pink, so Carol couldn’t really insult her. (She couldn’t insult me because I didn’t tell her my dress idea—I want one like Ariel wears in Footloose, pink and off the shoulder—but I’m sure she’ll do it on Saturday.) But Heather’s mother is taking her shopping in Indianapolis, so it’s just me and Carol at the downtown J.C. Penney’s…and Mike. I don’t know if Mom’s still punishing me by making me chauffeur him—he shot up a few inches over the summer and seriously needs new pants—or if she’s just desperate to get him out of the house. Honestly, though, he’s not going to make the trip worse. Carol will be annoying about it, but she’s always kind of annoying. Plus she’ll talk the whole time, so I won’t have to figure out what to say to Mike. He’s so quiet nowadays. I worry about him sometimes.
By the way, don’t think that you’re getting out of meeting me at the mall in Indianapolis. Your time is coming, because the selection at the J.C. Penney’s downtown is never good, and I still want my dish back.
Love,
Nancy
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solaarbeeam · 2 years ago
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always on time - todoroki fuyumi x reader
notes :: gender is not specified, but fuyumi is pregnant with reader's child, this is for black readers only !!
warnings : pregnancy mention, vomiting mention, s3x mention but its hidden, nausea mention
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if you had told fuyumi todoroki that she was going to have a blasian baby by one of the top heroes in the world, she would've thought that you were absolutely insane.
but here she was, sitting in bed, 8 weeks in, vomiting her life out while you were out completing hero duties. although she was nauseous, she decided that she was an independent 22 y/o woman, and drove over to your agency.
luckily for her, as soon as you met the top charts and hired people, she got to know and remember every single name of the people who work with your agency, including your assistant. therefore, as soon as fuyumi stepped on the premises, she was provided with everything she asked for.
as she walked towards your front office and opened the door, there you were signing your last few papers and typing things on your computer, as hero work doesn't only consist of beating people up and hooking them up with gods wifi.
as you look up, you see your assistant holding a trash can with a bag in it so she can throw up, as you quietly send your servant away to help your wife. you guide her over to lean against the side of the porcelain table, as you hold her by her waist
"what you doing here? i told you to stay home and ask the workers for the things you need."
"i wanted to see you. plus, its not fun being home alone without my significant other with me."
"fine, you can stay, just make sure you rest. cant have your fine ass running around hurt and/or sick even more."
sometimes she wishes she didn't blush every single time you said anything along the lines of that
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sometimes there would be moments where fuyumi would think you'd never be there, and it really does hurt knowing that your not always there when she calls, but you somehow manage to always be on time and it really makes her wonder about your duality.
it was a late night, around 11:50 PM, and you hadn't answered your phone since she started calling at around 10:00. it reminded her about that day in her childhood, but she don't even wanna think about it. she starts to cry, not only from hormones but from the fact that you could be anywhere, injured, critically injured, or worse, dead.
the staff at the house help calm her down and rush her upstairs, and she sleeps, but once she wakes again around 1 AM, she feels the need to throw up again.
she throws up again in the bathroom, and walks downstairs to drink some water. the door clicks and you come through. you see the stains on your shirt and immediately rushes over, although she cuts you off, you try to kiss her, but she doesn't let you.
"so, i've been calling you since 10:00. I had to stop at 11:30 and then our blessed staff had to get me to bed. I wake up, i have to throw-up, i do so, then you waltz in here, try to kiss me without consent, after you haven't answered me for so long?"
you were silent. she isn't in the wrong, and you were gone for so long, you didn't even consider it.
"i was in a high-chase with one of the a-class villains, i told them i had to get home but they didn't let me, and you know from personal experience, the hero comission are D1 assholes and all of us are still working together to try and bring them down for good. the villain we was chasing was a former HC member, so we had to ransack the nigga for evidence."
"... don't do that shit ever again." there was a long pause before she turned around and gave you a bear hug. "i was worried, do that shit again and im gonna kill you."
"i'm not always gonna be there when you call, fuyu. i'll always be there on time, and i'm going to give you my all, all i ask is for you to be mine. forever."
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from, jordan
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autumnrory · 5 months ago
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okay well she prescribed some lidocaine gel or something for my back and i’ll be able to make an appointment with a physical therapist there so that’s nice since it’s a convenient location and I’m glad I pushed this time bc last time it had been a few months of neck and shoulder pain which i KNEW was not normal for me because usually doing anything wonky would last at most a few days and not this badly (like sure i am not nineteen years old but still it is Too Much) so now it’s been a year and i was just like no it is not a muscle thing stop trying that with me
and i did get my blood work done which is nice so i don’t have to go back for that, but ofc i am nervous about my cholesterol and last time a couple of my vitamin levels were low and they prescribed those for a few months when i was like i would rather just take a daily vitamin that has this stuff which i should’ve done in the meantime but i didn’t so. they might still be low but i want as few presciptions as possible ya know, plus they’re checking my thyroid again and honestly i hope it IS low enough that they put me on something for that bc that might help my weight a bit and energy levels as well, she also mentioned testing for diabetes i think when she asked about my dizziness like they tested that last time because of the numbness and i have had dizziness issues for most of my life at this point i don’t think you’re gonna find anything that wouldn’t have been caught long ago if there were a real cause for it, the dizziness was just temporarily worse last year when i had the weird (possibly sinus) headaches and like. that isn’t the issue it was for that horrible couple weeks where i could barely function and i think that was the combination of probably having had covid and then getting the covid and flu vaccines when i maybe still had something in my system even though i was no longer sick
and of course she mentioned being due for the vaccines and i care so much about getting vaccinated but i don’t want to risk that weirdness again i mean at the very least i would do a large gap between them instead of both at once but STILL like the majority of last year was just nonstop feeling bad or weird which i guess is still true since my neck pain has never gone away either but yeah i just don’t want anything to add to my horrible feelings because i really am so over my body being insane, though again i do think it probably did all start with covid lol not the direct cause for everything but those weeks of being sick are the origin imo
why can’t one go to the doctor without the mention of weight
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reverie-starlight · 2 years ago
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can i request Semi and his s/o are very busy and when they finally get together, s/o gets sick and she feels bad because she thinks she ruined the date.
Yes ofc!!! This is such a cute ask 😭 and I’M SO SORRY it took me this long to write it, anon, I hope you can forgive me!! School has been insanely busy and I’m still getting used to university life, so writing kind of had to take a back seat for a bit (and still might, considering I have my first midterm on Oct.7th). 
Also- I am currently a little bit sick, so I definitely modeled the reader after myself with how they act in this fic :’)
{a change of plans - semi. e}
GN!reader
Genre: FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF i got butterflies writing this :’)
Warnings: none, just absolute fluff.
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Light shone through the curtains of your bedroom as you rolled around in your sheets, trying to get comfortable after being rudely woken up by your alarm. When that task proved to be impossible, you groaned and rubbed a hand over your eyes. Something felt off with, but you were still too sleepy to put a finger on it. 
It wasn’t until you tried to sit up and the room started spinning that you realized-
You felt like shit.
You groaned once again and flopped back into bed. Reaching over for you phone, you checked the date and frowned. Guilt pooled in your stomach. 
It was Friday- your day off, which meant you could rest, but you and your boyfriend had been trying to plan a date for weeks now. School and work kept getting in the way, and your schedules finally seemed to align this weekend, starting today. 
But now it looked like you’d have to cancel again to prevent him from getting sick. 
Semi was meant to come over around lunchtime and spend the weekend at your place, starting with a date tonight at a fancy restaurant, so there was still enough time to call him and let him know, but if you were being honest with yourself, all you wanted in that moment was to be cuddled up in his arms as he ran a hand up and down your back. If you could admit one thing about yourself, it was that you got incredibly needy for him while feeling sick. 
It wasn’t fair that you hadn’t actually spent any quality time together in the last few weeks and now you were getting frustrated with yourself for getting sick on the one weekend you finally could. Thoughts of pretending to be fine and having him over anyway popped up. 
However, you knew telling him the truth was the only option here. He had shows next week, and you would hate to infect him and take him away from those. Not to mention he’d also be out of his day job for a couple days.
Plus, after an intense coughing fit and a sneeze, you knew you wouldn’t be able to fake your health anyway. 
So you slowly sat up again and pressed the call button on his contact with teary eyes. It took a few rings for him to pick up, but when you heard his voice on the line, you sniffed. “Eita?” 
“Baby? Hey, what’s wrong?” He was obviously woken up by your call, but the sleepiness in his voice was soon overtaken by sweet concern at the sound of your scratchy voice. 
“Eita, I’m sick. I woke up with a cold and now you can’t come over because I don’t want to get you sick too, and I’m so so so so sorry that I got sick this weekend, I miss you and I know we were both looking forward to it and now I’ve ruined it and-” you broke into another fit of coughs.
“Hey y/n, calm down, it’s okay,” his voice was calming and slow and successfully soothed you. He waited for you to finish coughing before continuing. “You didn’t ruin anything, alright? It’s not your fault that you got sick. Just relax for a bit, try to get some more sleep.” 
You frowned. “Are you sure? Eita, I’m really sorry. I miss you so much.” Your voice cracked at the end as you fought back some tears. 
 “I’m sure. I miss you too, but please rest up. I’m coming over anyway.”
Your eyes widened. “Eita, wait-”
“Nope. You can’t convince me to stay home, I want to come and take care of you.” 
Your heart swelled. You felt guilty that he might end up sick, but he was insisting so you thanked him instead. 
“Of course, baby, anything for you. I’ll let myself in with the key in case you’re asleep by time I get there. Love you, bye.”
He hung up after that, and you stared at the black screen for a minute after that before smiling a bit. You loved your boyfriend so much. 
Despite him telling you to sleep some more, you wanted to get up and tidy the house like you originally planned. A foggy head and sore throat wasn’t enough to stop you. Being awake and moving around usually helps with feeling better. You always feel worse in the morning when you’re sick. 
Plus, laying in bed any longer without your boyfriend might just end up making you more touch starved than you already were.
So you got done with your morning routine and headed into the living room to tidy up a bit. An hour later, when you were on the couch with a blanket and some tea, you heard the lock of your front door turning and instantly smiled. 
After some fumbling, Semi finally walked through the door with his overnight bag among other things and headed right for your kitchen. You giggled a bit as he looked over to the couch then did a double take. “I thought I told you to get some sleep, my love.”
You just put your arms out for him and he set down his bags before diving for you. You laughed as he wrapped his arms around you and got as close as possible. Moving your head away from him, you said “Eita, I just wanted a quick hug, if you get too close, you’ll get sick too!”
He nuzzled even closer to you and kissed along your jaw and cheeks. “We do this every time you get sick, beautiful, when are you going to realize that I don’t care about getting sick? Also, I missed you, let me smother you a bit.”
You tried to hide your smile from him but he saw it and leaned in closer so that his breath was on your face. “Besides,” he whispered, “we both know that you turn into the biggest baby when you’re not feeling well and you get so needy for me.” 
This time you couldn’t hide your smile and you whined. “Eitaaaa, don’t tease me, I’m vulnerable right now.” 
He laughed and apologized with more littered kisses across your face. You started laughing a bit, too, enjoying the attention you were getting, but you cringed as you turned your face away from him and coughed into your sleeve. 
He stroked your cheek with his knuckles when you were done, frowning. “I’m sorry you’re sick, baby, I brought you some medicine if you want.”
You shook your head. “I haven’t eaten yet, I don’t want to take it on an empty stomach.” 
“I brought food if you want something. We can call it brunch. Or we can just wait until lunchtime comes, but I think some food might do you good. Your face is warm, but you’re shivering.”
You hummed and leaned into his hand, eyes closed. “Mmm, yes please. Food sounds good.”
He smiled fondly at you and kissed your forehead. He got up and handed you your tea, which had been placed on the table beside you when you beckoned him for a hug. 
“I love you, y/n, I’m always going to take care of you when you’re not well, you know that right? And really don’t worry about our date, baby, we’ll make it fun from home.”
You gave him a shy grin. “Thank you, Eita, I love you too.”
He kissed your cheek and then he was off to the kitchen to prepare your food.
An hour later when you were done eating and your medicine was kicking in, you turned to Semi and looked at him expectantly. You fiddled with your hands a bit and tapped your foot on the ground. You weren’t good at asking for the things you wanted.
He raised an eyebrow and scanned your body language before breaking out into a tender smile. “Would you like some affection now, sweetheart?”
You nodded and immediately went into his arms. As an adult, and also someone who was always giving your all to others, you rarely got the chance to be taken care of and babied in return. So when you were sick (and even when you weren’t sometimes, to be honest), Semi took it upon himself to be the one to pamper you and love on you a little extra the way you deserved.
And you took full advantage of that.
He pulled you onto his lap and you wrapped your arms around his neck, nuzzling your face into it as well. When he stood up, you wrapped your legs around him and he began the trek back to the bedroom.
He tried to set you down on the bed, but you giggled and held on tighter so that he physically had to pry you off of him. One of his hands held you protectively on your back, the other pinched your side, causing you to squeal and let go of him. He laughed when you fell back onto the bed and followed you down so that he was laying in on top of you.
You frowned and lightly pushed him off, lying down by the headboard, and he followed suit once again. His front was calling to you and you flopped on top of him, finally getting what you’ve been waiting for since you woke up.
He rubbed your back soothingly up and down as your face nuzzled into his chest. Instant waves of comfort washed upon you. Sweet nothings were murmured into your ear. “You really are just a big cuddly baby deep down, aren’t you, sweetheart?”
Starting to fall asleep, you just nodded along making him snort. “My baby.”
You smiled and planted a kiss right on his chest, not caring that his t-shirt now had lip balm on it. “Thank you for everything, Eita. I love you so much.”
“I love you too, y/n. Now get some rest. When you wake up from your nap we can get take out and watch a movie.”
You drifted off into a peaceful sleep shortly after that.
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Thank you for reading!!! Sorry this took so long, once again, but I’m happy with this!! I’m literally the biggest baby when I’m sick and just want to be held, so if this is too cheesy for you, I’m very sorry but it’s what I needed to write at this point 😭
Please reblog!! <3
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twink-between-worlds · 3 years ago
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splitting, barely fitting; show a smile, we’re rather bored, nothing lines up anymore!
hihi so this is. longer. so i cut the chapter in half. yea :] ima go sleep now
relationships: shadow/vio, red/blue, blue & red & vio & green, mentioned past green/vio
ao3 link; x
“So, let me get this straight..”Red paused, her eyes still fixed onto Vio’s face. “You’ve been living in the fire temple since Shadow’s death—a death you claim was your fault—and had an accident which resulted in you losing your hand last week. Oh, and let’s not talk about your unhealthy eating habits during that time. Is that right?” Vio winced, sheepishly nodding. “That…is correct, yes.” “Okay,”Red took a breath, shutting her eyes before they snapped back open. “Why in the world didn’t you contact us?” “Um…well, for a while, I assumed you all still hated my guts, so there’s that.”Vio stated simply, playing with the cloth on the table. “I thought you all…wished that you’d never see me again.” “Oh, Vio—we looked for you for months..”Red frowned gently. “We didn’t even want to stop but we had to.” “...yeah. Green mentioned that.”Vio sighed, glancing up at Red. “I’m sorry.” “You disappear on us, for a long time, let us believe you’re dead, lose a hand, and you say you’re sorry?”Red deadpanned, clearly unimpressed. “...yes?”Vio winced, a nervous grin on their face. The response was met by three sighs from their companions. “..was…that the wrong answer?” “Yes, you idiot. What happened to you being smart?” “I’m still smarter than you lot.” “That isn’t exactly a challenge.”Blue shrugged loosely. “We’re fucking dumbasses.” “I’ll drink to that.”Vio laughed softly. “So…um. Should we head home?”Red smiled. Blue nodded slightly, glancing at Green. “Are you coming with, or going back to the castle?” “I probably need to tell Zelda that Vio isn’t actually dead.” “Oh, yeah, I forgot you all thought I was dead.” A beat of silence before, “Vio, we were talking about it less than five minutes ago.” “Oh, really?” “Yeah.” “..oh.” Red frowned, then shook her head and stood up, blowing the candles out. “Well, let’s go! Greenie, are you fine with Vivi using your bed til we get one for them?” “I never use it anyways.”Green shrugged as he got up. “Hey, make sure Vio bandages that up.” “We know what to do, Green.”Blue deadpanned, locking the bakery door behind them as the four of them stepped outside. “By ‘make sure’, I mean force the fucker.”Green clarified bluntly, and Blue nodded along. “Ah, got it.” Red sighed gently, grabbing Vio’s hand and walking ahead of the other two. “It’s nice to have you back, Vivi. We’ve got a lot to catch up on.”She smiled, to which Vio faintly returned the gesture. “Hey, Red, um…”Vio began, trailing off as they struggled to find words. “I have a question.” “And I probably have an answer!”Red laughed, swinging their arms. “Why…why do you care that I’m not dead? You’ve done well for yourself…all I did was cause problems. I’ll probably just make more problems for people to hate me for, anyways. Why not just let me go back to the fire temple?” “O..kay, so, that was more than one question. However! I have your answers. We care because we love you, you’re our friend. The fire temple isn’t a good place to live in, Vivi, you could get sick or worse! Plus, we want you here with us.” “Oh.” “Oh?” “...I didn’t expect that,”Vio admitted, shrugging loosely. “I mean—I obviously know the fire temple was a terrible decision for a place to stay for an extended period of time, but…I didn’t expect you guys to want me here. After all I’ve done..” “Well…we all do dumb things when we like someone.”Red whistled lowly, giggling when Vio’s face lit up. “Did you think we didn’t know?” “Know what?”Vio coughed, looking away nervously. “You liked Shadow. Maybe you still do…but we did notice it. He seemed to like you back, too!” “I sure hope so.”Vio muttered under their breath. “Um…thanks for not…acting like I’m insane. I’m sure everyone else would if they knew.” “People thought me and Blue were weird too, everyone was convinced we were all siblings.” “We aren’t even related, though?” “Yeah, people seem to struggle with that. Anyways! We’d never act like you’re insane.” “It wouldn’t really be acting anyways.”Blue piped up, grinning when Vio laughed at the comment. “You think I’m insane?” “No,”Blue paused, humming. “I know you are.” “Blue—”Red huffed, but fell quiet when Vio continued to laugh. She missed seeing Vio, and seeing them smile is nice. “Because Vio is laughing, I won’t get mad at you for that.”Red sighed. Vio smiled faintly, letting out a breath once they’d calmed down. “Well, you are talking to the idiot who cut their own hand off.”Vio mumbled, wincing when Red and Blue both froze up. “That's how you lost it?!” “...oops, did I not say that originally?” “No, Vi, you said there was an accident. Not that you cut it off yourself.”Blue deadpanned. “What the fuck?” “Oh. I thought I’d said it was myself…my bad, then.”Vio laughed, shrugging. “I cut it off myself, in a poor attempt to revive Shadow. I had read that, to bring someone back from the dead, a part of my body would aid in it. Maybe I did it wrong..” “Hold on—you do necromancy now too?”Red frowned, staring at Vio. “I…yes, I’ve been practising it for a while now.”Vio paused. “Is…is that weird?” “A little, yeah.” “Oh. Okay.”Vio hummed, heading into the house after Red and Blue unlocked the door and went in. “I can make you a new hand, if you want.”Blue glanced at Vio, wincing when Red pinched his cheek. “You won’t be doing anything until your wrist is healed!” “Well no shit, Red.”Blue rolled his eyes, sighing. “When I can get back to work, I’ll make it. You might have to come to the shop with me, though, so I can make it right.” “Oh, okay..”Vio nodded, glancing around the home. It’s relatively small, but it’s not claustrophobic. It’s actually a comfortable kind of small. …if that makes any sense. The walls are a standard beige, and the floorboards are dark oak, but there’s a few rugs scattered around. The rugs were all in all four of their colours—the purple ones were no doubt gifts from Zelda, as purple is very expensive and only nobles and royals even had permission to purchase such a colour—and they were in various different shapes and sizes. “Green said you can take his bed, but…are you comfortable with that?” Vio paused, eyes trailing to Blue and they winced once they saw Blue’s knowing look. “You knew.” “I’m not a complete idiot, Vi.” “Are you sure about that?”Vio grinned, poking Blue’s side teasingly. “Ay—” Vio snorted softly, then sighed. “To answer your question, I’m comfortable with it.” “You sure?” “Mhm! I’m sure.” Red blinked, grabbing the med kit as she made Vio sit on the couch. “Do you two know something I don’t?” “How could you not know? I know you’re not the sharpest blade in the shop, but c’mon Red.”Blue sighed, shaking his head. “Vio and Green had a thing before Vio’s fake-betrayal.” “Oh…”Red blinked, then gasped. “Oh!! That makes so much sense now!” “It’s why Green was so—”Blue paused, glancing at Red. “Permission to swear?” “...hesitantly granted.” “Thanks. It’s why Green was so pissed when he saw Vio with Shadow.” “He did seem a little mad.” “A little? He was more than a little mad. He chose the violence route.” “Ha. Violence.”Vio grinned, their grin widening when Red laughed and Blue cracked a smile. “You’re fucking weird,” “And I embrace it.” Red giggled softly, carefully bandaging Vio’s wrist up. “It’s good to have you back. It’s tough having the braincell, can you take it back now?”She pouted, and Vio nodded. “Of course. Thank you for keeping it away from dumb and dumber.” Red stood back up when she’d finished her work, pulling Vio up. “C’mon! Um, if you don’t like the fact the covers are green, we have some blankets you can put over it. They’re white, but better than nothing! We’ll probably have to ask Zellie for purple themed things, but she loves us so she’d agree.” Vio nodded along, following her into the bedroom. The house is a one-bedroom house, so the beds are in the same room, but Vio doesn’t mind. In the far corner is a single bed with mint green sheets and sage green covers. It looks untouched. On the other side of the room is a double bed with red and blue patterned covers, along with a simple white bed sheet. “Yeah we’re…looking to get a bigger house. Even more reason to now that we’re all together again, right?”Red smiled. “Where does Green sleep if not here?”Vio mumbled, an eyebrow slightly raised. “Oh! In the castle.” “His job requires it,”Blue added with a loose shrug. “He’s never here long enough.” “Ah.”Vio nodded, sitting down on the bed quietly. They haven’t been in a real bed for so long…they forgot how comfortable they are. If it could, their back would be thanking them for finally sleeping in a bed. “Vio, why do you look like you’ve never been on a mattress before?”Blue snorted, snapping the other out of their daze. “I..uh. Well, there wasn’t,,,exactly a bed in the fire temple—well, there was, but it was Shadow’s and it felt wrong for me to sleep in his bed—and, well, basically, I haven’t really been in a bed or on a mattress for months.” “Oh, that’s so sad.”Red pouted, rushing over and pulling Vio into a hug. “Why didn’t you take the bed? I know Shadow was…important to you, but he wouldn’t have minded.” “I know he wouldn’t have, it's just…he’s gone, Red. It felt wrong, especially because of what I did to him..” “You did what you had to. And Shadow chose to do what he did, that isn’t on you.” “...it feels like it is. I should’ve—maybe I could have convinced him to work with us, in a way that didn’t involve me abandoning you three..” “Oh, Vio…” “He liked drawing. Maybe if I’d convinced him, he coulda been a professional. He was good enough to be.” “He liked drawing?”Blue hummed, subtly asking Vio to elaborate. Vio nodded and quietly grabbed Shadow’s sketchbook from their bag, opening it once Red and Blue sat on the bed on both sides of them. “He did it in the little free time we got. He uh…had a preference.”Vio mumbled, embarrassed as they flipped the pages, encountering a few drawings of the violet hero pretty quickly. Quite a lot of them were drawn when Vio was asleep—looking peaceful, which is the rarest state for Vio to be in—but there were the odd few drawn when Vio was awake. The one they were looking at right now…Vio loves it, in a weird way. It was from one of their dates—one Vio chose, which also means there was no arson involved—and it appeared to have been drawn when Vio was talking about something. Their head was tilted back, seemingly staring up at something. Now, the drawing wasn’t coloured, but Shadow can make something really detailed only using various blacks, greys and whites. Somehow, Shadow had made Vio’s eyes seem to shine, and he seemed to be observant, if the small details were anything to go by. Vio was smiling in the drawing, and Shadow had remembered to add their dimple, along with freckles scattered across the hylians face. If you looked close enough, he’d even caught Vio’s slightly crooked teeth. They’re not really an obvious thing—you have to really look to see it—but also Shadow did have his tongue in their mouth a lot so maybe he felt that they weren’t straight. Vio let out a breathy laugh, thumb tracing over the little heart in the corner. They had a lot of time these past few months, and they’d looked at this sketchbook many times. The hearts were only on pages with Vio drawn on them. It was sweet, really. …Shadow loved them. He—He said it once, but Vio hadn’t wanted to believe it, knowing what they had to do. So they told him to shut up. They told him not to say it, and Shadow listened. Vio wishes they could hear it again. Just one more time. “Vivi?”Red frowned, shaking the other slightly. “Are you okay? You zoned out…” “Oh.”Vio frowned, then shrugged. “Got lost thinkin. He’s a great artist, ain’t he?” “He was, yeah.”Blue hummed. “It’s super detailed. Shit, Vi, he noticed your teeth.” “You notice it too?”Vio winced, glancing at Blue, who quickly shook his head. “No, Vi. It’s not obvious, promise.”He reassured, continuing when Vio seemed less anxious. “All four of us have slightly crooked teeth, Vi. Link had ‘em.” “Really..? I never noticed.”Red blinked, tilting her head. “Yeah. All of us have it, but nobody usually notices. The fact Shadow did…” “He liked looking at me.”Vio mumbled quietly with a soft sigh. “It was one of his favourite things. He’d let me talk and just—watch me. Not enough to be creepy or uncomfortable, but enough that he noticed little things about me. Fuck, he noticed a lot—did you know my left ear is shorter than my right ear?” “Is it?”The two blinked, clearly surprised by this. “I didn’t…know that.” “I didn’t either! Shadow was the one who pointed it out to me. He noticed my ears, my dimple, my teeth…he noticed everything except the fact I was lying to him.” “Well it’s…it’s good he didn’t notice that, right?” A silence. “My plan failed anyways,”Vio shrugged. “Guess I forgot he knows my sleep pattern and that he’s clingy.” “Um…Vivi? You keep…talking about Shadow like he’s still here, I think…” “You should get some rest, maybe? You’ve had one hell of a night.” Vio sighed, nodding and placing the sketchbook on a shelf, slipping into Green’s—their?—bed as Red and Blue headed over to their own. “Hey Vi?” “Mhm?” “It’s good to have you back.” Vio cracked a smile, staring up at the ceiling as they waited for sleep to take them.
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emilysshortstories · 3 years ago
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Paul Lahote Part 2
Don’t really know what to call this, but thanks for all the love on the last part. I’m gonna try and post weekly but I work a lot so no promises.
Warnings: Angst, lots of it. cussing, hints towards abuse.
After a few weeks went by things seemed to work themselves out between Jacob and Bella. I would drive out to Emily’s about once a week, Paul conveniently never being there. Which I was actually kinda glad about, although I felt eager to be around him, Jared told me about his anger issues so I think it’s better for me to steer clear of him until this eagerness goes away. Anger issues scare me. 
Jared and I have gotten close through these visits, always laughing at each other's sarcastic jokes and ending the night with an episode of New Girl. That was usually the time when everyone else bailed but I didn’t care, it gave Jared and I some hilarious inside jokes. No matter how close we got, our feelings for each other never grew past platonic, though I would rarely catch Sam giving Jared a look. It was never all knowing “when are you going to ask her out?” look, more of a “back off” look. But that could just be me reading into it too much, there is nothing. I am thinking too much. I’m just happy I finally made a friend of my own. 
One day when I arrived at Emily’s for dinner, there was a new face in the crowd. “Y/N! You’re here!” said Emily as I walked in. “Hey! This is for you. It’s a cake for later” I said, handing her the grocery bag in my hands. “Thank you, you didn’t have to do that. This is Seth, Harry’s son.” Emily pointed to the unfamiliar face. “Hi, I’m Y/N, Charlie Swan’s niece.” I introduced myself, but Seth just kind of stared at me, never saying a word. Jared’s laughing was what broke the silence. “What are you laughing at dick nose?” I asked, hoping not to embarrass Seth. “Nothing, just your ability to woo people” 
“Very funny, I don’t woo anyone, you’re imagining things. How Emily puts up with you is beyond me.”
“IT’S NOT WITHOUT GREAT DIFFICULTY” Emily yelled from the kitchen before walking towards us. “Paul isn’t going to show up again?” she added.
“Nope” Embry said “ Too stubborn for his own good, the dumbass”
“Hey, if he doesn’t want to meet me that’s fine. It’s none of my business.” I say, hoping to ease Emily’s thoughts, seeming it always bothers her when he doesn’t show up. 
We all seemed to move past it and dinner was great, as usual. “Hey, instead of New Girl do you want to take a walk? I’ll show you the hiking trails around here.” Jared asked me.
“Sounds great” I said with a smile.
“Can I join you guys?” Seth asks like a small child which made me have to suppress a giggle. Poor boy had been staring at me all night like a lost puppy, he was cute no doubt, but being 5 years younger than me was a deal breaker. 
“No, Jared has something important to explain to her. Remember?” Sam said like he was Seth’s father. He seemed to always be incharge of everything around these guys so that didn’t surprise me. I definitely wouldn’t call them a cult, but club would be a better term, seeming as a hierarchy was apparent. 
“Seth likes you” Jared said as soon as we walked out of the house. “Wow! Way to out your friend there! Remind me to never trust you with a secret. Plus you don’t know that for certain, he just met me.” I said and Jared laughed, but didn’t say anything back. No until we were pretty deep into the woods did I ask “So what is this thing Sam said you needed to show me?” 
“Well I wanted to try and explain it to you but I have a feeling you wouldn’t believe me.”
“Your sarcasm levels are like no other to be fair, so show me.”
“Ok” he said and stopped walking. “Just brace yourself and try not to panic. I promise I won’t hurt you ok?”
“Ok” I say, trying to do what he said.
I watched. Watched him take off his shoes. Watched him back up a few feet. Watched him start to shake. Just like Paul did that day Bella slapped him. Then I watched him turn into a wolf. I was stuck. Didn’t say or do anything. I couldn’t. Just continued to watch as this wolf trotted back into the woods. My brain was blank. No thoughts, words or actions came to mind. Everyone knows the fight or flight trauma responses, but not a lot of people talk about the third: freeze. 
Jared came back, this time a human. “You okay?”. I took a deep breath and said “I’m in need of explanation please” I remembered that he wasn’t going to hurt me. 
He explained the histories, Vampires, and why he spends most of his time with the “pack”. I listened, tried to take it all in and process the copious amounts of new information, but apparently I was too quiet for Jared. “Please say something” 
“I’m alright, surprised to say the least and will need some time to process everything. But I’m not mad I promise. Thank you for telling me everything.”
“Well, that actually is not all. We just figured it would be best to wait until you’re ok with this first.” 
“There is more? Please just tell me the rest, trust me, I process better with all the information.”
“Okay, well. We can hear each other's thoughts, we are 108 degrees, and we can imprint.”
“That’s why you never wear shirts… What’s imprinting?” 
“The best way I can describe it is soulmates. When we make eye contact with them, our whole world becomes this person and we will be and do anything for them. When we are apart it’s hell, getting rejected by an imprint can really fuck you up. Make you sick. No one has ever died from being seperated from an imprint but you might as well be.”
“That sounds intense. What does that have to do with me?” 
“Paul imprinted on you. And it scared him. Still does scare him because love was never something that he wanted. That’s why he won’t see you, he isn’t mad at you. He’s in love with you and his stubbornness is eating him alive. It wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t have to listen to his obsessive thoughts all the time.” 
“Hold on. Paul is my soulmate but he doesn't want me?”
“No, he wants you. He needs you, but he’s scared. We thought if we told you, you could convince-”
“You want me to try and convince my soulmate that he should be with me?... Fuck that. You dump all this crap on me and then tell me my own fucking soulmate doesn’t want me?!”
As if on cue, Paul came out of the woods “What did you do to her Jared? You hurt her?!”
“How do you know I’m in pain?”
“We feel our imprints' pain too” Jared added. 
“Oh! Perfect! So you can feel what you are doing to me asshole!” I couldn’t help but yell at Paul, I was overwhelmed to say the least. I’d never been so angry in my whole life. 
“What?”
“Jared didn’t hurt me, You did! What? You thought that I would be all sweet and understanding?! Awe my own fucking soulmate doesn’t want me-”
“No it’s no like that-”
“What is it? Am I not as pretty as you thought I would be? Well I can guarantee that you were not what I had in mind either you prick! In fact you are the last person I ever wanted. Oh great! Another egotistical asshole with anger issues to make me feel like shit all the time! Let me just take off my shoes so you can sweep me off my feet properly! I’m happy you got some practice keeping your distance from me. Now keep doing it! And don’t you dare think, even for a second, that you have any sort of claim over me. I’m out of here!”
Frustrated tears flowed down my face like a waterfall while my heart felt like it had died in my stomach and air was coming into my lungs but not my head. 
“Please don’t go. I had no idea you would feel this way. I can’t be separated from you anymore, I’ll go insane-”
“GOOD! Now fuck off!” I got into my car and slammed my door before Paul ran up to me window “Ok ok you can leave, just please let me drive you home. You shouldn’t be driving like this, and it’s dark. I promise I won’t say a word. Let Jared drive you! Anything.”
“Don’t tell me what to do!” My own stubbornness got the best of me and I drove away. Only this time I was dumb enough to look in the mirror to see Paul sobbing.
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byunbaekby · 4 years ago
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title — the things i know pairing — soccerplayer!jisung x female reader genres — angst, fluff, high school au, strangers to lovers au, first love au, long distance relationship, hurt and comfort, coming of age overall warnings — underage drinking, cancer, character death, language, mentions of hickeys, fainting, mentions and descriptions of hospitals, soccer inaccuracies, lots of angst (you’ve been warned!) word count — 14.8k summary — jisung has never been keen on growing up, or even understanding what adulting means. at seventeen, all he knows is: he loves soccer (and he’s damn gifted at it), and girls are very pretty but also plenty scary. then he met you, his first love who turned his life upside down and made his stomach roll like the soccer balls he loved to kick around the field. but when your cancer comes back after years in remission, jisung thinks, he doesn’t really want to grow up anymore. playlist — falling, harry styles ; your guardian angel, red jumpsuit apparatus ; my first and last, nct dream ; bye my first, nct dream ; orchid, jeremy zucker
additional — for the heartbreak hotel collab hosted by @nct-writers​. my concept in the five stages of grief was “acceptance and hope.” thank you to my babes @suh-insane​ and @astroboy-lele​ for proof-reading!
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The thing about knowledge is that you never know when or what you’re going to learn. There’s no way for you to predict what will be of your mind when you fall into bed that night, surrendering to the moon. In the morning, there’s no telling what knowledge your brain will choose to store away for remembrance over the course of the night, and what your brain will decide is unnecessary. What you decide not to remember is a memory you can’t even miss. 
When you wake up every morning, you don’t know if you’ll go to bed having met someone who will change your life forever. 
At seventeen, there are two things that Park Jisung knows. One, he loves playing soccer (and he’s damn good at it, the way his long legs carry him across the field in what seems to onlookers like seconds). Two, girls are very pretty but plenty scary as well. 
The day starts out normally, like any other away game that the team plays.
He wakes up at six o’clock on the dot, and eats a large breakfast to hold him over for the game, then packs a few granola bars into his soccer bag and lets his sister know he’s leaving before he jogs the way to the park where the bus is waiting for his team. The ride is normally an hour long, so he either tucks his earbuds into his ears and tries to get in a short nap or he converses with his teammates. 
Today though, the bus ride is three hours long. Crossing his hoodie-clad arms across his chest to act against the cold air of the bus, he focuses his gaze outside and watches as the town goes by. 
“Yo, Jisung, check this out!” 
At the sound of his name he turns his head, blinking when he sees a number of his teammates in the surrounding area nudging him closer. A few of them are leaning in towards a particular teammate, who displays a proud expression. “What’s up,” asks Jisung as he too leans forward toward his team member, curiosity slightly piqued.
Jaemin, the teammate in question, tugs the collar of his jersey down to reveal his skin. On the milky white curve of Jaemin’s collarbone, he sports a dark purple bruise, surrounded by a perimeter of yellow where the skin seems to be healing. There’s no question as to where that mark came from, and it definitely wasn’t from soccer. 
“Ew, man, that looks sick!” comes from Donghyuck, along with a few comments from others, either approving or disturbed. 
“Where’d that come from?” 
Renjun slaps Mark on the chest, eyebrows furrowed at him. “Obviously, it was from Anne! Didn’t you see the way they were all over each other at last week’s game?” Jaemin grins, eyes going lovesick at the thought of his girlfriend. 
Jisung’s expression contorts into one of disgust. “That’s disgusting, man,” he comments, nose still scrunched in distaste as he leans back into his original spot on the bus seat. Another thing he’ll never understand is why people are so desperate to grow up, as if giving hickeys and sneaking vodka into their Hydro flasks makes them somehow more adult. 
He slips his earbuds into his ears, playing some light muzak to lull him to sleep with his head leaned rather uncomfortably against the cold window. 
-
Jisung doesn’t think that he’s exceptionally smart; he’s gotten passing to above average grades his entire life. He’s not musically talented, nor is he particularly a smooth talker. 
But hearing people call him gifted is a feeling he relishes every time.
With his long legs and strangely large and spacious lungs, soccer called the boy’s name from the time he could run. He dominated the peewee league, then the club teams until this point, at the ripe age of seventeen waiting to be scouted for college teams. 
He wasn’t usually one to brag but today, he had shot the winning goal. 
Everyone has their thing, the one thing that they excel at. For Picasso it was painting, for Yiruma it was piano, for Renjun it’s spending four hours every night researching alien conspiracy theories. For Jisung, it’s soccer. But he’s never been exceptionally good at speaking to people. 
“What’s your name?” He hears a voice, cheery and upbeat, behind him as he’s grabbing his bag on the side of the field. The game is over, and the crowd begins to dissipate while the team members are gathering their things to return to the bus. Turning over his shoulder he sees you, wearing a bright smile. Cautiously he responds, “Jisung Park.”
“Oh, so you’re Korean then. I’m gonna write that down, okay? How long have you been playing soccer?” You ask next, and now Jisung’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. 
“Write what down?” He asks, trying to keep his tone as polite as possible. Even so, how is he supposed to react to a random person at a game suddenly appearing to ask him questions? As he wipes his forehead with his towel he adds, “Who even are you?”
Quickly you say, “I write in the high school newspaper, and wanted to get a close-up of today’s star.” It’s then that Jisung realizes the camera slung around your neck and the notepad in your hands. 
“Why are you writing about me? I don’t even go here.”
“Because,” you say, a slight sigh creeping into your voice now. “Our team sucked today. You straight up stole the show, and no one wants to read about a team that lost. I’d rather give them a peek at the star.”
“14!” His coach yells his number once, causing Jisung to look over his shoulder to the source of the voice, where his teammates are already beginning to pile onto the bus. The boy in question slings his bag over his shoulder and tucks his soccer ball under his right arm before finally getting a good look at you. “Shouldn’t you be writing something to raise your team’s spirit or something? Giving them support, maybe?”
You shrug. “I don’t like underdogs. Don’t like writing about them. I’d rather read about the heroes. So how long have you been playing soccer again?” 
“Jisung!” Now it’s Chenle calling after him, and he really needs to go. Eyes flickering to the street where his teammates are gesturing for him to hurry, he looks back to you. Your eyebrow is raised expectantly, right hip popped out as you wait. Before he starts to run off, he manages a small, “I’ve been playing eleven years. Um… bye.”
Then he turns away and his long legs carry him to the bus a few meters away. Even so, behind him he can hear your loud, proud voice yelling after him with the name of your high school: “Check the online newspaper! You’ll see my article!”
What a weirdo, he can’t help but think as the team cheers for their star player getting on the bus back home. 
-
A week later, it’s another Saturday night following a victorious win against another team in the local area when Jisung gets a call from Chenle. “What’s up,” he asks immediately, leaning back in his desk chair to throw his soccer ball up in the air and catch it with one hand. 
“Wanna party tonight? Celebrate our win a bit?”
“Where?” asks Jisung. He’d never been big on parties. For one, his long legs that were great for running weren’t exactly skilled in dancing or anything of the like. Secondly, he’d definitely be expected to talk to girls and he’s not really in the mood to make a fool of himself. 
“Taeyong’s house. Me, Mark, Hyuck, and Jaemin are going. Renjun’s busy, and Jeno wants to spend time with his cat. What do you say? Wanna join?” 
Jisung sighs. He was honestly just exhausted. “Think I’ll pass. My sister’s been getting on me about my bio grade.”
Chenle groans on the other line. “Lame.”
“Next time, promise,” says Jisung. 
“Fine. Have fun studying, looooser!” This is the last thing Chenle says before hanging up, leaving his best friend alone to shake his head with a small laugh. Then he remembers something, some words that a stranger had yelled out to him a week before. 
Sitting up at his desk, Jisung opens his laptop and types in the name of your high school, along with your town. A few clicks around the website finds him at the online news section, plus a scroll or two past some questionable articles, there it is: a picture of him mid-kick, the winning one if he remembers well enough. His nose is scrunched in concentration and strands of dark hair cling to his forehead. 
Soccer Superstar from the opposing team steals the show and the win!
A small scoff leaves Jisung’s lips, trying to humble himself as he reads over the first few paragraphs. 
Our school’s boys soccer team faced a devastating loss on Saturday in the face of the opposing team’s ace player (pictured above). The game ended promptly when the superstar player confidently kicked in the final shot, though the result had been clear from the first half of the game. 
A short interview with the hotshot player revealed that he has been playing soccer for eleven years! A senior from Neo Culture Prep, it is clear as day that the school is very lucky to have such a prodigy on the team.
Who is this superstar player, you ask?
His name is Jisung Park. 
Geez, Jisung thinks. He knew he was good but not that good. The article did a good job of spicing him up, making him look like he was a lot better than he really was. There’s too much fluff; sure, he’s skilled and he knows it, but—he touches his cheeks. They’re warm—the article makes him sound like a soccer god, and it’s beyond embarrassing. Who even are you?
A scroll to the bottom of the page tells him all he needs to know.
Article written by: (Name) (Last Name).
-
He doesn’t return to your town for almost two months. There’s a tournament today, the hours lurching between games giving him more than enough time to psych himself out about how he’ll play. 
It’s noon, the sun shining overhead causing a sheet of sweat to amass on Jisung’s forehead. His team has just won their second match of the day, and in waiting for their next game, his eyes are scanning the bleachers set up for observers on the side of the field. It’s not hard to find you, same camera hanging around your neck. 
With his long legs, he jogs over to you towel in hand. You’re not at all focused on him, eyes pressed into the camera’s viewfinder as you attempt to capture a good shot of the current game. 
“I don’t like the stuff you said about me in your article.” 
His deep voice suddenly intrudes your thoughts, and you jump in your place. As you turn to him and drop your camera from your face, he catches sight of the way your eyes widen at his appearance. A flood of recognition replaces the shock before you tilt your head. “Why? It was all good stuff.” 
Patting at his forehead with his towel, Jisung responds, “Yeah, exactly. I’m not that good. I could’ve played better that day.” This brings a small snort from you. “Really! They were narrowing the angle on me, I should have flanked or lofted.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
“It’s—” 
You cut him off before he can explain. “You’re good. Why are you so shy to accept that?”
“Why do you keep trying to paint me as the main character of the team? Everyone works hard together.” He questions, eyebrows furrowed. 
“Because you are,” you respond matter-of-factly, focused enough to press your eye into the viewfinder again. A few seconds pass, and Jisung recognizes the click of the camera as you capture something on the field. “You’re clearly the best player on the team by a long shot. You’re the main character, the hero.”
At your response, Jisung shakes his head in disbelief and scrunches his nose. There’s really no getting through to you. “I’m more than the hero you think I am.”
You turn to him, facial features contorted into a mischievous expression. “I’m sure you are.” Jisung realizes then that you’re holding something out to him. Taking it, he observes it. A… business card? With your name and number on it. “(Name). Aspiring journalist.”
“You have a business card? Aren’t you like, seventeen?” 
You shrug, smile tugging on your lips. “Never hurts to be prepared. Call me.” It’s the last thing you say before you flitter away on quick feet, leaving to interview the team which has just won their match. He watches you leave, wondering if you know what kind of effect you have on people. 
-
“I don’t know, man. She seems kinda crazy,” says Hyuck from the seat next to him, leaning his head back. However, a sudden bump in the road causes the bus to jump, startling the boy a bit. Jisung had just shared his thoughts about asking you out with his friend, who immediately made a face and shook his head. 
“Crazy?” Sure, you’re a bit forward and maybe slightly reckless, but he doesn’t think you’re… crazy. It’s been a few weeks since he last saw you and from the conversations you’ve shared over text and phone… he thinks he likes you. Like, really likes you. It’s goddamn terrifying.
“Yeah, we all saw her article,” Chenle speaks up from the seat behind him. “She’s obsessed with you.” 
Jisung rolls her eyes. “It was one article. That doesn’t mean she’s obsessed.”
“I think you should do it. It’d be funny to get on camera in case you fail,” snorts Renjun.
Jaemin pipes in from in front of them. “But if you do ask her out, she lives three hours away. That’s a lot of distance.” He’s the only one in a relationship, so maybe he has the only opinion that Jisung trusts. 
“Other people have done more distance.”
Now, it’s Jeno’s turn to pipe in. “But you’re not other people, you’re Jisung Park. You’ve never had a girlfriend.” Should he feel insulted? Chenle also adds, “Jeno’s right. You’re a senior! It’s your year, and you wanna spend it tied down to some girl who lives three hours away?” 
But you’re not just some girl. Mark’s the only one who hasn’t spoken, and most of the time, he’s the most level headed. Jisung turns to him with a sincere expression and asks, “What do you think?”
Though he had been trying to stay quiet throughout the conversation, he stretches a bit in his seat before finally saying, “I think you should go for it.”
“I think you should too!” Jaemin says. “But I think you should be prepared for what it means.”
“Whatever you decide to do, we’ll hype you up.”
“I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?” Jisung asks. “If she rejects me, at least she’s three hours away, right?” There’s murmurs of agreement around the seven of them. He tries to sound relaxed, but the thought of asking a girl out for the first time causes his heart to thump loudly in his chest. Oh god… should he do it?
“So?” asks Hyuck after a few seconds of silence, and it’s then that Jisung realizes everyone’s looking at him. “Are you gonna do it?” 
He gulps. “... No idea.”
A collective groan emerges from the group of boys. Hyuck, ever the genius, straightens his back with a glint in his eye. “How about this? If we win, you ask her out. You’ll be riding on a winning spree and it’ll give you confidence. If we lose then… there’s more girls back home.” 
That… doesn’t sound like a bad idea. But oh god, he doesn’t know which option he wants. 
-
For the first time, Jisung feels like his legs are knotting into each other, tumbling over his feet. 
Soccer had always come easily to him, like breathing. But for some unknown reason, he’s totally off his game today. He knows the play, his strengths, and even the weaknesses of his opponents, but he trips over his feet. 
No, that’s a lie. He definitely does know the source of his nervousness, and it lives in the form of a girl with a camera and a notepad sitting in the bottom corner bleacher. His breath is frantic as he zips back and forth across the field. The sounds of the game are ringing loud in his ear, and he can hardly even focus on the black and white ball being kicked around, let alone what the coach is screaming at them. They’re so close, one more goal should do it. 
He knows what’s going to happen. Jisung Park had always been known for his ending kicks.
But what if he messes it up? What if he fumbles the kick or whiffs it? 
Then again, does he even want to win? That’s a dumb quesiton—of course he does—but the question is: is he ready for what comes with the win? He really shouldn’t look, shouldn’t peek for just one look at you, but he does. You’re scribbling in your notepad, and he swears in that millisecond that you look so pretty. 
Yeah, he wants it. He really wants it. 
He’s ready, and—oh god, Sungchan is passing the ball to him. Suddenly Jisung is on high alert, winding up toward the goal. He captures Sungchan’s ball with ease, no longer tripping over himself as he makes his way to the end goal. 
One kick, just nail this one kick. 
He winds up, turning his body to the correct angle; he kicks it and…
Please go in, please go in, he’s begging. 
The ball flies in straight past the goalkeeper, who jumps toward it but there’s no use. It all happens so quickly, and suddenly his team erupts into celebration when the referee blows his whistle. Still standing there, Jisung catches his breath and stares into the goal. 
He won. 
That means… He glances at you. You’re wearing a huge smile on your face, and without noticing it himself, Jisung has his own proud smile on his. His momentary peace is interrupted by his friends running toward him, nearly knocking him over in their celebration. 
“Yeeahhh, Jisung Park, you’re the man!” 
A few minutes later, Jisung tries to calm his nerves after thanking the opposing team for a good game. When he returns to the sidelines where his stuff is, he can barely get some water down his throat before Chenle is pushing a soccer ball into his hand. “Good luck, dude,” he says, and Jisung can feel the others’ eyes on him. Oh no, it’s time. 
He steals a glance at you, and—Oh. You’re looking at him too. A bashful smile spreads over your lips and you turn away, focusing back to your conversation with your friend. His heart is beating so loud, but Jisung doesn’t think it’s because of the soccer game. Turning back to his friends, he groans, “I need a pep talk.”
“Okay, uh,” Mark attempts. “You got this, you know you’re the man. Um… if she rejects you, then it’s okay, there’s other fish in the sea!” A groan erupts through the group. “That’s not a pep talk, Mark!” 
“Listen,” says Chenle suddenly, grabbing Jisung’s shoulders to stare at him. “She’s not gonna reject you. You’re Jisung freaking Park! The star of the team and my best friend! Go get ‘em, and don’t take no for an answer!” With this, he gives Jisung a small push in the girl’s direction.
“Actually, uh—I think no means no,” pipes in Jisung but everyone cuts him off with a collective, “JUST GO!” 
Pink spreads across his cheeks as he slowly walks in your direction. At a good distance away, he places the coveted soccer ball down on the ground and winds himself up for a kick. Okay, he just shot the winning goal of the game. If he can do that, he can do this. Running forward the slightest, Jisung gives himself a silent pep talk as his foot taps the ball. It goes moving from its spot, flying through the air… and that’s when Jisung realizes his mistake. Instead of gently tapping against your ankle like he had planned, the ball flies straight in the air, knocking the side of your head rather harshly. 
“Not that hard, genius!” Chenle chastises from behind him, and Jisung has to hold back the desire to actually groan in that moment. He immediately runs toward you, hands out in surprise. “Oh my god, oh my god, I’m so sorry,” he repeats, reaching out for you. You’re rubbing the spot on the side of your head where the ball had hit, and he wants to disappear right there. 
He never should have done this. 
Why was he born again?
“I’m so sorry,” he says again for the nth time, feeling shame and humiliation speed up his spine at the way you wince when you touch the side of your head. “Oh my god, go get me an ice pack,” he demands over his shoulder at his friends.
“No, no I’m okay,” you reassure everyone. Now all the eyes are on the two of you. 
A few moments of silence pass as you eye the soccer ball which has rolled some distance away, crouching down to pick it up. Ball in hand, you scan the outside of it… and destroying all of Jisung’s hopes and expectations, you burst into laughter.
You laugh so hard, the boisterous sounds leaving your lips so vehemently that you have to cover your mouth with your hand. Jisung furrows his eyebrows. “I just kicked you in the head and you’re laughing?” Oh god, he must have done more damage than he thought. You don’t answer, the only sounds leaving you are giggles and guffaws. It’s only making him feel worse; geez, he wishes he wasn’t so tall so he could positively disappear right now. 
You finally look up at him and meet his gaze, your own eyes crinkled in delight. Flipping the ball over in your hands, you present to him the ball. Written on one of the large white spots reads a firm, “Go out with me?” in black marker.
“This is why you kicked me in the head?” You ask, still chuckling the slightest. Bashfully, Jisung nods. You laugh again. Every time you do that, he feels like getting smaller and smaller. “Of course I’ll go out with you.”
Wait, really?
He says these words aloud, eyes wide at your ease. He hadn’t expected you to actually say yes! “Sure,” you respond with a smile. “Though I could’ve gone without the head injury.” 
This brings a laugh from the both of you. He really had been worrying so much about nothing. His frame instantly relaxes, taking the ball back from you. “You sure you don’t need the ice pack?”
“No, I could definitely use an ice pack.” 
-
The first date happens two weeks after that game, and it’s his first real date so he has no idea how to act. Everything goes fine—he takes you to the local arcade in your town, and though he’d deny it to the ends of the earth, you beat him in foosball. 
“Ha!” You had screamed. “Superstar soccer player Jisung Park, and you can’t beat me in table soccer?” His cheeks had burned pink at the sound of your voice reverberating around the public arcade, but honestly the mirth in your eyes was worth it.
His cheeks are red but the air is cold on the walk home to your house. He had promised to have you home by nine, and it’s—he checks the time on his phone—8:45. 
A look at you, holding the giant stuffed teddy bear that you had won (he hadn’t won it for you, because lord knows he’s horrible at skee-ball), and Jisung can see the air leaving your lips. “Hey, you cold?”
“Nah,” you shake your head, though you scoot closer to him on the sidewalk. His tongue laves over his bottom lip quickly, and he almost wants to hold your hand. But that wouldn’t do much to keep you warm. 
He purses his lips, then immediately his hands are working at taking off his hoodie. That’s a cute thing, isn’t it? Boyfriends giving hoodies to their girlfriends? “Here, take this.”
When you take one look at the hoodie in his hands and roll your eyes, Jisung knows he’s in for it. “Seriously? You can’t fool me with some cheesy rom-com moves,” you laugh.
Ouch.
That hurt his pride. He was just trying to be nice, maybe a tad bit romantic, but you clearly weren’t having it. He should have known you would be so tsundere, and maybe he does.
He knows you act strong, like there is no way on the face of the earth that you would ever swoon for his lame attempts at flirting. But when you reach upward on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek before you step into your house, he knows you like it just as much as he does.
-
For the longest time, it’s been just him and his sister Naeun.
His parents passed away shortly after his birth, so they stayed under the custody of their aunt. When his sister became an adult, she became his legal guardian. Since then, it’s been the two of them against the world.
Though kids had sometimes made fun of him for not having a mom or a dad, Jisung never paid those kids much attention. Sure, he didn’t have a dad to teach him how to drive or a mom to attend his parent-teacher conferences, but he had his sister and she was all he’d never need. Naeun gave up everything for him: she didn’t go to college, she traded nights out with her friends to help him with her math homework, she worked two jobs so he could play soccer. She had worked so hard, perhaps sheltered Jisung so much that he had always lived a comfortable life.
It never occurs to him just how much she had struggled until the morning she asks him to get a job. 
She sits across the dining table at breakfast, and over his cereal, Jisung notes how shaken and guilty she looks. There must be something on her mind, but that’s how his sister’s always been; she doesn’t like to worry him, and speaks up when she’s ready. When she finally tells him, he blinks, confused. 
“I can’t pay the bills alone. Not with soccer getting more expensive, and the landlord raising the rent—that bastard,” she mumbles under her breath, surprising Jisung. She hardly cursed. “It’s… It’ll just be for a short time. I promise.” She has tears in her eyes. Jisung furrows his eyebrows; she must feel guiltier about this than he thought. Immediately he nods in understanding. “It’s fine, Noona. Don’t worry about it. I’ll, uh, go out looking this weekend.” 
He takes another spoonful of cereal into his mouth, thinking that the conversation will end there. But it doesn’t, his sister’s quiet voice reaching his ears. “Promise me you’ll go to college, Sung. Promise me you’ll make it. Make it all worth it.”
And it’s in that moment, in the way that his sister’s voice is on the edge of breaking, that it occurs to him just how much his sister has sacrificed for him. How quickly she had to grow up, having become his parent at eighteen, just a few months away from how old he was now. And he was nowhere near as responsible as her. 
He swears in that moment that he’ll uphold his promise. He’ll get a scholarship, he’ll help his sister out. He’ll pay back everything she’s given up for him.
-
Finally, today you’re in town.
It’s the first time you’ve come to visit him in his town, and he’s so excited to show you everything: his school, his favorite ice cream place on the corner of the street from his apartment building, and even the park he grew up kicking soccer balls at. Even after all these years, him and his friends still came here to practice their soccer technique.
Today, the two of you are sitting underneath a tree at said park, his head in your lap. You’re running your hands through his dark hair, and wow, he’d never admit that it feels so good. 
There’s a small laugh heard from you as you comb through his locks. “You should dye your hair.”
“Suddenly?” He asks. “I don’t even know what color I’d dye it.” 
“You should do like, a blue or something. Oh, purple! Purple would be nice!” Your excitement causes him to roll his eyes promptly, sitting up. “I’ll dye my hair purple if you dye your hair purple,” he retorts to you. 
“Maybe I will,” you say, standing onto your feet now that he’s gotten off of you. Wiping the grass from your legs briefly, you nod toward his soccer ball a few feet away. “C’mon, let’s play.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You wanna play soccer.”
“Yeah, is that so surprising?” 
“Um, yeah, a little bit considering the fact that you said it’s boring and that you complain having to get up to go to the fridge at two in the morning,” quips Jisung with a laugh. You only roll your eyes in response. “I never said soccer was boring, I just said it’s only interesting when you play. And you’re gonna teach me right now, so stand up,” you say, extending a hand to him.
He takes your hand, rising to his feet before picking up the ball. “Fine,” he relents, a smirk making its way onto his face. “Try to keep up.”
For fifteen minutes, the two of you race up and down the park’s open grass field, chasing the ball in every direction. He evades you, long legs carrying him and the ball while you chase after him. 
“Wait,” you say mid-sprint, slowing to a stop. Your chest is heaving, and slowly Jisung stops his running also. “You good?” He asks from a few feet away.
“Yeah,” you say breathlessly, reaching a hand up to wipe at your forehead. “Just… gimme a sec.” A minute passes of you catching your breath, but Jisung doesn’t pay it much attention—a person who didn’t play soccer and have trained lungs like him would struggle.
“Okay, okay,” you finally say, shaking your head a bit. “Let’s go again.”
“Are you sure?” He asks, worry seeping into his tone.
“Yeah, yes! Just—just go.”
So he does, beginning to kick the ball down field as he chases after it, stopping past center field to pass the ball to you. You’re racing after him, and though the ball is coming your way, you trip over it, falling straight onto the floor.
Your head hangs low, and he immediately rushes over to you.
“Hey, hey! You okay?” He asks, kneeling down but your eyes are closed. He swipes a hand over your forehead, and it’s that moment when he realizes your eyes are closed. Did you pass out? Had he pushed you too far? “(Name)?” 
No response. Oh god, what is he supposed to do?
Is he supposed to check if you’re breathing? Where can he check for a pulse again? In his moment of inadequacy, he pulls out his phone and calls his sister.
She’ll know what to do, but it pains him that he doesn’t.
His sister arrives quickly, and immediately takes you to the hospital. According to her, you do have a pulse and you probably just had heat exhaustion. He sure hopes so… 
For a few hours he sits in the waiting room as he awaits the arrival of your parents. They rushed over from your town, four hours away, and this definitely was not the impression he wanted to have on them. Head in his hands, he can’t help but worry about you.
You do wake up, eventually but he can’t see you until your parents arrive.
They take you back home. You’re walking and talking again, but as you shoot him a weak smile from over your shoulder, walking down the hall and out of the hospital, Jisung can’t help but feel that something has gone terribly wrong. 
-
He swears he’s never been so tired. 
Working at McDonald’s isn’t horrible, per se, it’s just different. But it definitely takes more out of him than soccer ever did. The second he walks into his room Jisung drops his backpack on the bean bag next to the door and almost collapses on his bed. Throwing his work cap on the floor, he runs a hand through his hair and pulls out his phone.
The best thing about coming home from work, is coming home to you.
He immediately fishes for his phone from his pocket and opens it to speed dial. Pressing on your contact, Jisung presses the phone to his ear and waits for his girlfriend’s voice on the other end. The line picks up.
“Hey,” he says, a smile spreading over his lips without him even knowing. 
“Hi…” 
Something’s wrong. Your voice is missing its signature excitement, the snarkiness he had grown accustomed to. He sits up in bed, eyebrows furrowed. “Is everything okay?” 
Yes, you’re supposed to say. Everything’s fine. Everything’s just peachy.
But you don’t. “I got a call from the hospital.”
After you had fainted the other day playing soccer with him, the hospital had run a few tests to make sure you were okay. He knew this, you both did. They were supposed to say that you had been dehydrated, that you hadn’t eaten in a few hours. “I haven’t been completely honest with you, Jisung…” 
“What, what is it?” 
There’s a momentary silence on the other side, then a shaky breath. “When I was ten… I got really sick. I was always having nosebleeds, always tired—some days I didn’t even want to get out of bed. They took me to the doctor and they told me that… I had leukemia.”
Jisung releases a heavy breath, staring into his sheets. No… don’t say it.
“I fought it for two years, and I beat it. God, it was… it was really hard, and I got through it. It’s been five years now but—but the hospital called and…” Please, no. “My cancer came back.”
Jisung’s never felt this way before; like all the air in his lungs have been pulled from his chest, lost to the universe. Not even when he sprinted across the soccer field, not even when he had gotten punched in the chest. All those times, his chest burned with fire, be it anger or passion. But now… his chest feels empty and hollow and numb. He manages to spit out a few words. 
It’s not supposed to be like this. You’re supposed to be okay, you’re supposed to go to prom together. Graduate. He’s supposed to get a soccer scholarship, you’re supposed to study journalism at the same school, and the long distance would cease to exist. You were supposed to be happy. “But it’s gonna be okay, right? You’ve fought it before, you can do it again.” Perhaps it was a bit selfish of him to ask for consolation when you were the one with the illness. But you were a journalist, never a liar. Your voice is weak, like you’ve already given up.
“I don’t know.”
-
“What’s up with you?” Chenle’s voice is almost worried, but Jisung wouldn’t be able to tell because his eyes are focused on the ground. He’s been kicking a soccer ball around with Chenle and Mark for a while now, but there’s clearly something very off about the teenager today.
“Yeah, is something wrong?” Mark asks.
Jisung blows some air into his cheeks. Should he tell them? It’s your private information but technically, you’re his girlfriend right? The news has been troubling him for a few days now, and he’s had no one to talk to. Surely, he can’t talk to his sister about it. 
He should just spit it out. “(Name) has cancer.”
It’s like the world stops, his friends taking in his words. “W-What? What did you just say?” Chenle speaks first, then Mark quickly follows. “Did you say (Name) has cancer?”
Keeping his gaze on the ground, Jisung nods and gives the ball a small kick in Mark’s direction. “Yeah. She had leukemia when she was younger, and… the other day she went to the hospital and they said that it came back. Her cancer came back.” When he looks up, both his friends are looking at him with genuine concern etched across their faces. 
“Seriously? Cancer? And you’re still dating her?” Mark asks, causing Jisung to raise an eyebrow in confusion. Did he just insinuate what he thinks he did?
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” 
Chenle speaks up next, trying to defuse the sudden tension. “Jisung, you guys have only been dating like, a couple months. It was just like yesterday that you kicked her in the head asking her out!” 
“And?” Jisung asks pointedly. Suddenly he’s in front of Chenle, and though he technically towers over the latter in height, Chenle’s chest is straight as he makes his point.
“Is it really worth it to stay on a sinking ship?”
Jisung’s voice reaches a new level of low, erupting from a place deep inside of him that he’s hidden away. It’s a place of rage, of anger sizzling and bubbling in his stomach. Suddenly they’re both chest to chest, unwilling to back down. “Now, I know you’re not talking about my girlfriend.” 
“Hey, hey, hey!” Mark interrupts, hands coming between them to tear the two boys apart. “Calm down. Both of you.”
“He started it,” accuses Jisung quickly, dark eyebrows furrowed in frustration. “My girlfriend is not a sinking ship. Neither is my relationship, and I don’t need you to comment on it.” He looks to Mark for guidance. Mark had always been the most logical one, the one he would look to for help, and though he thinks that Mark will agree with him, he almost looks guilty.
“But it’s true, Jisung. We’re worried about you. She’s just a girl. Is she really worth hurting yourself over?” He had trusted Mark to be on his side, but now Jisung just releases a scoff. He had been hoping for his friends’ support, but it seems like he’ll be going through this alone, then.
-
You’ve been avoiding him.
Of course, there’s not much that can be done to avoid him when you live hours away from each other. But you haven’t been responding to his texts, and when you do, they’re mostly short and taut. You’ve been cutting your phone calls short, often saying that you’re tired. Maybe you really are, but it hurts hearing the line cut off, not knowing how you’re really feeling.
Jisung can’t help but feel like he’s failing. He should be doing better.
It’s like your relationship is an hourglass, running out of time with every day that he spends going to school, work, or soccer practice. Like you’re getting further and further away with each short text message.
His entire life has been spent running. Speeding forward center field like a lightning bolt, long legs carrying him far ahead everyone else. But for the first time, Jisung feels like he’s falling behind.
-
It only takes a three hour bus ride (four, with the added stops) but in Jisung’s mind, it’s all worth it. It won’t be the first time he’s gone over to your house, but it is indeed the first he’s ever showed up unannounced, which is a strange appearance given that he lives three hours away. But with everything happening, he’s willing to give up the day and six hours worth of travel for you.
Sitting on the bus, he pulls out his phone. It’s early, like nine in the morning, but he knows you have a doctor’s appointment in a few hours so you’re definitely awake. He presses the facetime button, but you quickly reject his call. His eyebrows furrow, but lighten with an incoming text from you.
[ message from : (Name) ♡ ] : jisung, i’m using the bathroom rn. call you back in a bit.
He nearly rolls his eyes, but it’s a sweet one. You’re always so candid.
[ message to : (Name) ♡ ] : you act like you’ve never facetimed me on the toilet before.
[ message from : (Name) ♡ ] : wow, call me out more why don’t you
[ message to : (Name) ♡ ] : pick up my call, brat ♡
[ message from : (Name) ♡ ] : no, You pick up My call :p
Seconds later, his phone is lit up with an incoming facetime screen. A laugh almost leaves him at your tenacity before accepting the call.
The call opens up to the visual of his girlfriend, you in your PJs fixing the phone up against the mirror in the bathroom. He sees himself reflected in the mini screen, hoodie on and earbuds in wearing a boyish grin. “Hey pretty girl. Make sure you wash your hands.”
You roll your eyes at his remarks. “Hey ugly boy. I’m already doing that. What are you doing?”
“Just making sure, because I don’t think you brushed your teeth after you fell asleep on call the other night,” he teases, clicking his tongue as you’re the only person he can tease so easily. “I’m on the bus to practice.” A lie, but a white one at that. “What are you up to?”
You wack your still dry toothbrush in front of the camera, nose scrunching up in the slightest. It’s a habit of his that you’ve picked up. “I’m also doing that right now.” You wet the brush, putting some toothpaste on it. “I thought you didn’t have practice this Friday? Or was that next Friday?”
Your actions bring a low laugh to his lips, and his eyes momentarily focus on the passing landscape outside the bus window as he’s now three hours out of his normal perimeter. “Uh, Coach wanted to add in a practice today. Don’t you have a doctor’s appointment today?”
You nod at his answer, toothbrush in mouth. “I do, I think it’s like, in a hour or something.”
“Oh, okay,” he replies simply as the bus comes to a stop, your house only a short walk away. He stands, gathering his bag. “Gotta go, but I’ll talk to you in a bit, pumpkin honeysuckle,” he snorts, making his way to the front of the bus. 
Your brows furrow as you give him a disapproving look through the screen, shaking your head slightly before moving to rinse your mouth. “Talk to you soon, don’t get hurt at practice or I’ll fight you.”
He scoffs as he steps out of the bus, into your neighborhood. “Like you could take me. Later.” You probably could, given your determination, but he gives you a nose scrunch before ending the call. He’s only taken a few steps when his phone rings with a text message.
[ message from : (Name) ♡ ] : you and i both know i could take you :)
A snort leaves him. Classic (Name).
When he arrives a few minutes later, he hesitates at the door, only praying that the person who opens up is you, not your parents or god forbid, your brother. It only takes a few hard knocks before he hears your voice on the other side, determined to see just who the hell had the nerve to interrupt your laziness this early in the morning. “Who the fu—”
He tsk’s in distaste. He shouldn’t have been surprised that the first words to leave his girlfriend’s mouth are cuss words. “You potty mouth. I thought you’d be happy to see me,” he says, opening his arms.
Jisung’s not quite sure what he expected. For you to jump in his arms? What a delusional boy. You blink for a few seconds, then suddenly you’re throwing yourself at him, fist first to land a deserved punch to his arm. “I thought you had practice? What are you doing here and why do you look so much cuter than when I last saw you?” 
“Well, I lied,” he snickers, patting your head. “I’m here to annoy you, obviously. But you look too. For a—” A person dying of cancer, but he can’t say it. He won’t. “—person who barely got up twenty minutes ago.”
Your hand immediately begins rubbing the spot that your fist landed, worried that it might actually bruise in a bit. Jisung asks, “So are you gonna invite me in, or?”
“What are you, a vampire or something? I’m pretty sure you weren’t given permission when you entered my heart so just come in and cuddle me before my appointment.” 
Your response catches him off guard so he blinks before entering in silently, sticking his hands back into the loose fitting pocket of his hoodie. Even after six months, he’s still not used to you saying those kinds of things. Hell, he still gets sweaty holding your hand.
“Hey Mom! Dad!” You’re grabbing onto his arm, tugging him into the kitchen. “Jisung’s here!”
-
After a small breakfast and conversation with your parents, he’s given the permission to go with you to your doctor’s appointment. The two of you take the bus, hands interlaced as you sit, and Jisung smiles awkwardly when an elderly woman compliments the two of you, calling you a cute couple. 
He’s never really been in a hospital before. 
For an arduous soccer player, he’s lucky enough to never have suffered a pain great enough to warrant a visit to the hospital, nor had he ever been sickly enough to send him there. It’s for that reason that he feels slightly out of place, tucked in his hoodie whilst trying his best not to gaze at the others in the waiting room. Instead, he tries to keep his gaze focused upon his girlfriend as you remain bright despite their surroundings. Your hands intertwined, he feels a comfortable warmth seeping into his veins, gold in color and feeling. Gold like the ring on your finger, and like your heart. 
He’s so lucky to have you.
“I don’t really have anything planned,” he says softly, giving your hand a slight squeeze. It’s true that your itinerary is next to nonexistent for this impromptu date, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. If anything, a hospital is a strange starting destination for a date but your relationship is a bit strange. Quietly, he says to you, voice low in the hopes that no one overhears, “Don’t hospitals scare you?”
He knows that you spent a good portion of your time here; surely you must have grown accustomed to it, but Jisung was not. Hospitals were cold… white and bleak and much too quiet.
“Nah, not really,” you answer with a shake of your head. “Except for all the souls wandering around.”
Jisung blinks. “Souls?” He gulps.
“Yup. The souls of the passing.” You click your tongue, along with a wink in his direction now that you’ve successfully managed to creep him out. Do you ever stop making jokes?
The door to the waiting room opens and a medical assistant calls your name. “Hey, I’ll be right back,” you tell him, standing and releasing his arm. He gives a hesitant nod, watching as you leave through the door and disappear down the hall. 
When you emerge, some forty-five minutes later, the mirth is gone from your eyes.
He knows right away: you didn’t get good news. His heart is pumping in his chest, like he’s waiting for you to collapse right there. Years could pass, and Jisung swears he’d never be able to erase that memory of you. “Are you—” Okay, he wants to ask. But you just give him a small smile and shake your head. It’s not the time. He cuts himself short, reaching a hand out to you with a small, albeit forced, smile. “Let’s go on our date.”
-
It’s a long afternoon, spent in the arcade where you had had your first date—this time, for memory’s sake, he gets another ring from the claw machine—then McDonald’s and ice cream. He treats you to lunch, courtesy of his employee discount, and the entire day is filled with laughter and mutual teasing. Everything feels like it’s okay again. 
Jisung enjoys these moments the most.
The moments where he doesn’t feel like he has to be anybody: not the star soccer player, not the kind understanding younger brother, or a kid trying to look grown up at an adult party. With him he’s just you, awkwardness and quirks altogether. You’ve never hid yourself from him, and now he doesn’t have to hide himself either.
Now that the day is touching evening, the two of you sit at a park, relaxing mindlessly on the swings next to each other. Now that the romantic buzz is gone, the two of you have fallen into a comfortable silence.
“Thanks for coming this far, Ji. This was… nice.”
A small smile spreads over his lips. “It was nothing. I wanted to do it for a long time.”
“No, really,” you say, turning to him with a thankful smile. Your eyes are serious now, and Jisung feels the sunlight seep into his skin. “I really missed you.”
He doesn’t say anything for a moment. This moment feels heavy, like he’ll remember it for years to come. “... I missed you too. A lot.” You both turn back to face the sunset, watching the sun fade behind a hill. It’s setting, streaks of gentle reds and soft-spoken oranges staining the empyrean firmament. It’s then that Jisung feels his heart begin to sink, like the sun, into the pit of his stomach.
“Are you scared?”
A moment passes without you saying anything, then you speak up beside him. “Not really. I mean, it’s just the hospital. The only thing that’ll suck is not being able to leave. I never thought I’d say it but, I’m really gonna miss going to school.”
Did you think you were never going to return? “Are your chances good?”
The implications from earlier at the hospital return. What are the chances that things aren’t looking up? “They say so,” you breath out.
That’s not good enough. Anything could happen. Jisung needs clarification, confirmation. He doesn’t want to lose you. “What if you—”
“I might.”
A beat of silence.
Jisung feels like crying. It gathers in the back of his throat. “What would I do without you?”
There it is: the implication that you’ll be gone. That one day, Jisung will have to wake up and face a world without you in it, a world with less happiness and less passion. A world where there isn’t someone who will call him ugly when really they think he’s the cutest to walk to the earth, or where there isn’t someone to make fun of him the way you do. A world with less love. 
Your voice is dry as you speak. 
“You’d move on.”
“I don’t know if I’d ever love anyone like you,” he finds himself saying. 
“L-Love?” You suddenly say, voice the smallest he’s ever heard. You’ve always had the loudest voice, most prominent in his brain, but his words seem to have caught you off guard. “Do you? Love me?” 
He doesn’t know what love feels like. He’s just a teenager, what is he supposed to know about love? About loss? Is it all-consuming, like in the movies? Is it meant to hurt? “... I think I do. I think I love you.”
There’s a sniffle next to him, and he turns immediately, alarmed that he may have made you cry. There are tears in your eyes, but they don’t fall. Being a writer, you talk too much. Your words are eloquent and true, though sometimes Jisung has a hard time getting you to stop talking. But this time, you choose to abandon words altogether, instead leaving your swing to stand in front of him. Compelled by nature, he stands too. Instead of speaking, you reach upward on your tiptoes once more. Except this time, you kiss him. 
Your lips meet, and everything is golden.
And against the backdrop of the setting sun, it feels like the closing scene of Jisung’s very own romance movie. But this isn’t the end, he knows.
-
When he walks you home, he offers his sweater again. 
This time not out of obligation or the desire to appear more romantic than he is, but because you’re cold. Really cold. You’re shivering, arms wrapped around yourself not giving enough warmth.
“Here,” Jisung says, already beginning to take off his hoodie, but you stop him with a hand and a pointed look, though your chattering teeth cause you to stutter. “S-Still trying to woo me with cheap rom-com tricks?”
You’re stubborn. You’re so stubborn and he hates it.
“Just take it,” he says, pushing it into your arms. 
“No,” you argue. “You have a three hour ride home, it’s late and you’ll be cold.”
It’s obvious your illness has made you even more sensitive to the cold, and for that reason, Jisung’s fine facing the biting cold as long as you’re okay. “You’re freezing, please just take it.”
“Jisung, I said no.” Your voice is stern now, and he gets the feeling that he’s upset you. He gives up, gnawing on his bottom lip in deep thought. He just wants to make you feel better, doing what he thinks will help but with you, it never does. You’re so independent, too much so and much too stubborn to admit you need his help… “Fine,” he says before putting his hoodie back on. If you won’t take his warmth, then he’ll give it to you. 
He lifts his arm, placing it fully around your shoulders and pulling you to him so your bodies meet. “At least let me hold you,” he mumbles. Your frame freezes in his for a moment, until you wrap your arms around the circumference of his chest. 
Burying your face into his side, you relent into him. “Okay, fine.”
And later, he finds that you’re right. When he sits alone on the dimly lit train, he realizes that the warmth he had been feeling earlier, bathing in the sun’s rays with your lips, is long gone. All he feels now, is cold.
-
“You skipped practice the other day.” Jisung looks up from where he had been sitting on the bleachers, tying his shoes after practice. It had been a tough practice; he had missed quite a few passes and whiffed more than just a couple shots. He can only blame himself. He’s been distracted; alongside his worries about you, he also has a job to attend to and even more, the results for his dream school’s soccer scholarship is supposed to come out soon. His gaze falls on all six of his closest friends, looking down at him. 
“Yeah, something came up,” he says easily.
“More like, someone,” retorts Donghyuck easily. “We know you ditched to go see your girlfriend.”
“And what about it?”
“I don’t know what’s happened to you, man. You never want to play ball with us anymore, you don’t want to hang out with us. Whenever you invite you to a party, you raincheck. It’s like I don’t even know you anymore,” Chenle spits out, arms crossed over his chest.
“Chenle,” says Renjun carefully.
“No,” interrupts the boy in question. Chenle looks straight at Jisung, who stands now to meet the others’ heights. “He needs to hear this. Ever since that girl came around, it’s like you’ve lost your way. You used to be all about soccer and friendship. Now you always have her on your mind, and—did you see the way you played earlier?—she’s messing you up. Your head’s not on straight.”
“Chenle, stop.” Donghyuck speaks up now, voice low as he tries to stop the younger from going off. “You’re not the same Jisung I met in peewee camp, and I don’t know if I like who I’m seeing,” Chenle finishes. 
That’s enough for him. His voice comes out before he can stop it.
“You know why I never party with you anymore?” Jisung suddenly says, voice booming and clearly at his limit. “Because I’ve always hated partying. Because I have a job now, and because I don’t want my sister to stay up worrying about me while I’m getting piss drunk. I hate drinking, I hate trying to look cool while actually looking fucking stupid, because I don’t know how I can even think about partying when my girlfriend is fucking dying.” 
A hearty scoff leaves his lips, as though he can’t even fathom the words he’s faced today. “You don’t even know me anymore? That’s where you’re wrong, because you never knew me. Not all of me. You only see me as the star player who’s gonna get you your win. She knows me, she knows all of me, and she doesn’t try to change me. Well, sorry that I’m not the same kid you met years ago who let everyone walk all over him. I thought you guys were my friends, but clearly you only want me around for as long as I can play.”
Those are the last fiery words to leave Jisung’s mouth before he turns on his heels, storming off the field and away from everyone else. He just needs to get out of here, away from everything before he ruins it. Mark and Hyuck follow after him, while Jeno and the rest hold Chenle back. 
“Don’t listen to him,” Mark says, ever level headed. “We know what you’re going through.”
Though he appreciates their concern, Jisung spits, “No, you don’t.”
Both of them stop walking, no longer chasing after him as Jisung pulls out his phone. 
A new email.
He immediately opens it, eyes glazing over the text.
Dear Jisung Park,
Thank you for applying to our university’s soccer scholarship. We reviewed every application with our utmost dedication and attention. Unfortunately, we regret to inform you that we cannot accept your application at this time. Our soccer program is one of the most competitive at this school, however we encourage you to reapp… 
What a load of shit. 
-
The past few weeks have been horrid. 
Soccer is as tense as ever, though Jisung would be lying if he said that his fight with Chenle didn’t fuel him to work even harder during practice. His job sucks, especially after someone spilled a bucket of old oil on him (it was cold, thank goodness but still gross nonetheless). So far he’s gotten another rejection. Who knew that getting into college would be this hard?
He wishes that he could say his relationship with you is the saving grace, but it’s really not. You’re in the hospital now, and the two of you have been talking less and less. Even now with his feud between his friends, he feels even more alone. Today when he calls, you sound even more tired than usual. 
“Hey, chocolate honeycomb bunny,” Jisung says, giving his absolute worst at giving a cringe-worthy nickname. It seems you’re too tired to even give a repulsed response. 
“Hey.” You’re quiet for a moment, only your breathing heard across the line. “What’s up?”
“Nothing much,” sighs Jisung, running a hand through his dark locks. “Just exhausted. My coworker is getting on my last nerve.”
“The same one you talked about last week?”
“Who spilled the dirty oil on me? Yeah,” he responds with a roll of his eyes. “We’ve both been working the same amount of time, I just want to know why he’s so slow to pick it up.”
It’s characteristic of you to agree, seeing as complaining is one of your favorite past times. But you don’t, voice only coming out softly across the call, “Maybe just give him some time.” 
“Yeah, I don’t know,” he sighs. “How about you? Are you feeling better?”
“About the same,” you respond truthfully. God, you sound so tired. He almost feels bad for making you talk to him when you clearly sound exhausted. “Any more results?” You ask, regarding his college acceptances.
“No,” he shakes his head. He doesn’t understand. He’s a good student, he’s done community service. Just what more do they want from him? “You said I was special, but I don’t think the colleges see that.” 
He can almost see your small smile in his mind. “You are special. Just ‘cause they don’t see it doesn’t you aren’t.”
“Eh, I don’t know,” Jisung says, playing with a loose thread on his bedsheet. 
What you say next catches him off guard. “Maybe we can both be college-less, together.”
“What?” He asks, brows tightening in confusion. “Didn’t you get into the journalism program at that one university?” He’s caught you. You’re silent on the line for a few long seconds, but the quiet is deafening for him.
“I did, but Jisung, I…” You hesitate. “I’m not going.”
“What do you mean you’re not going?” He asks.
“I… I don’t know if I want to.” In a small voice, you continue, “I don’t know that I’ll make it that long.” What are you saying? What are you implying? Heart racing, Jisung tries to decipher these words in his mind. To him, it just sounds like the end.
“You’re giving up already, I hear it in your voice.”
“I’m not,” you say, a broken promise. “I just… want to be prepared for the worst.”
“The worst isn’t coming. You’re going to get through this. You’re going to beat it. I know you are.” It becomes blatantly clear in this moment that the person Jisung is trying to convince, is himself. 
His pleas fall upon deaf ears, because you argue back in what seems like the strongest voice you’ve made in months. As though you’ve amassed all your remaining energy for this conversation. “I’m not a hero, Jisung. I’m not cut out for this. The doctors said it’s not looking good.” 
“Then prove them wrong. You’re gonna beat it.” 
“I don’t want to be the underdog either, Ji. You know I hate them.” What you say next has his blood boiling. “I don’t deserve it anyways, no one would want me to come back.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Jisung raises his voice now, volume growing with each word.
“No one likes me,” you spit out across the line, and he doesn’t need to see you to imagine how incensed you are at the moment. “I’m rude, I’m loud, I cross boundaries and I say things that hurt without caring about who it touches. And before you yell at me that no one thinks of me like that, these are things I’ve heard from other people.” Your voice breaks, as does Jisung’s heart. “If this were a movie, no one would root for me to survive.” 
“I do,” Jisung says, voice strong. “I’m rooting for you. Every. Single. Day. And who cares about how other people see you? You’re rude? You’re crass? I like you because of those things, because you’re different from me. Am I not enough?”
“You’re different,” you relent, voice tired. “You’re the only one who matters. But I—“ You choke up. “I’m just tired of fighting. I don’t want to go to sleep every night not knowing if I’ll wake up the next morning. I want to be strong, and I want to face every day knowing that it could be my last… I don’t want to leave anything behind—”
“You’re not leaving,” he cuts in.
“—and I can’t go through every day letting you think that everything is okay, because they’re not. But I’m ready to let go, Ji. Because I’m happy with what I had, with what we had, and I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”
Tears are falling down his cheeks now, suiciding off the surface of his face and staining his bed sheets. He doesn’t know if the tears are the result of sadness, anger, or the pain of loving someone the universe would never let him have, yet it hurts all the same. “But I love you! I told you that I loved you.”
“I love you too,” you cry, and the sound is heartbreaking. “But I just wish that were enough.”
A pregnant silence consumes both of you. All that can be heard is the sound of your mutual crying, along with your breathing that Jisung had learned to fall asleep to. When you speak again, your voice is steady. You had always been the stronger one. “I don’t think you should call anymore.” A few sniffles. He can’t even speak. “Goodbye, Jisung.”
Then the line dies.
-
It’s Christmastime. He knows it’s cold, probably even colder in the hospital where you are.
Now, Jisung knows you don’t want anything from him. You don’t want him around. In the past weeks he must have become someone even he wouldn’t want around. And though he gets the feeling that you’ll never need him again, he figures you could use a sweater. It’s nothing much, and really he thinks it could be better. 
A hoodie, not fit to your size but slightly larger because he knew you well enough to know you’d like it like that. On one sleeve, near the wrist, a patch of a soccer ball. He had learned how to sew it on himself. On the other, his initials. JS.
He sends it in the mail, in a box to the hospital with your name and room number on it. There’s no letter, nothing. Just his bare soul in the form of an oversized cotton hoodie. He’d send it himself, appearing at the door to your hospital bed, but something tells him he’s run out of things to say.
-
His phone rings at three in the morning. 
He knows what it means.
February 2nd, at 2:39AM. The world lost you. 
It would never be the same again, and neither would he.
-
Grief is an interesting thing, someone once told him. 
He doesn’t quite remember who it was, whether it was his sister comforting him after the death of their goldfish, the guidance counselor at his school giving him a required appointment after the passing of a student, or yourself. But as the hours go by, it feels more and more like a weight in his chest that has been sitting on a hollowed place in his heart. 
Grief is indescribable, and Jisung doesn’t know if this is because his limited seventeen year old vocabulary hasn’t collected enough fitting words to even begin to verbalize his emotions, or if because it really is indescribable. 
The first few days had been hell. 
He had almost become someone that he didn’t know, barely stepping out of bed and perhaps worrying his sister out of her mind. It was his way of ignoring the world, dissociating himself from the irrefutable truth that you weren’t really gone. You were still laying in bed, three hours away as usual, struggling but still fighting. If he could lay in bed, sleeping the days away and ignoring his text message condolences from his friends, he could pretend for some time that things were the way they were, eight months ago. 
Eight months before it.
Eight months before he lost you. Before your relationship, a burgeoning dandelion in the nook of spring. But dandelions represent rebirth, the reappearance of hope like a beacon after an arduous winter, and you would never have another spring. 
He could not pretend, because every morning the sun rose again, and he would have to reach his head out from the burrow of blankets he had buried himself in. He would need to face it for himself that he woke up, and you didn’t. His friends texted. His sister knocked on his door and begged him to eat, even going as far as to cook his favorite foods as a means to lure him from the darkness of his corner. He ate. But it was never the same. 
Messy bedheads, earbuds tucked in with muzak playing gently like the thrum of his heart which beat enough for the both of you, tear-stained pillow cases, knees to the chest, light failing to shine in through the blinds which remained closed, counting the seconds between each breath, dreaming insubordinate dreams. 
The first few days went like that. Empty.
Then he was angry.
Angry because the world had given him a love worth changing for, then ripped it from his inexperienced hands. He had never had anything in his life! Not a mother, not a father. Could he not have this one lily, this flower which sought to remind him of the fragility of life? And even more so, he was angry for you. You were a fire—you were a bottle of passion bursting at the seams, a well of untapped potential, a boldness which no one else could emulate—and the universe crushed you beneath its foot. 
And suddenly, the emptiness of your hollow space reflected upon him.
He should have been better, should have done more. A soccer ball proposition? A sweater? It was laughable; that was the least he could give? If only he had called, if only he hadn’t listened to you like the meek child he was, things could be better. 
And above all, he was sad. 
What would he do without you?
Moving on seemed useless. A light at the end of a dark tunnel which stretched for ages. An epiphany that you would never reach. 
He just hoped that it was not cold. That you left the world in a ball of light, surrounded in the warmth of family and love, not the rigidness of the unforgiving world. Perhaps it was selfish of him, but he hoped that the soccer ball sleeve had been clutched to your chest, and that his hoodie could have provided just a little bit of that warmth. 
-
The walking pattern outside his bedroom door is different from his sister’s. So is the knock on the door; his older sister’s is much more quiet, reserved, as though she was afraid to wake him. This one is harsh, and it reverberates through the room before the door opens.
The air in the room is still for a moment.
“Jisung.” 
It’s Chenle. And Mark, Renjun, Jeno, Donghyuck, as well as Jaemin. They all take their seats either on the end of his bed, the floor, or his beanbag, but Jisung doesn’t move from his place underneath the blankets. 
“What do you want?” He manages to groan out in a small voice.
Someone places a hand on his leg, a comforting gesture. He thinks it’s Jaemin from the gentle touch. “We’re here for you.”
Donghyuck comments, “You haven’t been to practice this week.” Of course that would be what they would mention first. Jisung scoffs. “I’m kind of going through something.”
“And we’re here.” Mark’s voice.
“We wanted to apologize.” Chenle speaks now, and despite being best friends since they were five, he’s the last person Jisung expected to say sorry. In their decade-long friendship, Chenle was the confident one, the one who charged forward without consequence while Jisung trailed behind, cleaning up his mess. “We’ve been… assholes, simply put.” Had he been in higher spirits, Jisung would have snorted. “We thought we understood what you were going through, and we thought it was dumb. To let yourself get hurt over some random girl… but we were wrong. We didn’t understand your point of view.”
“Not even a little bit,” says Donghyuck, head hanging low. 
“Yeah, we’re supposed to be your friends. Your team! We’re supposed to lift you up when you’re down and… well, we haven’t been doing that. And we’re sorry. I’m sorry.” Chenle says. Slowly, Jisung lifts his head from below the blanket to face his friends. They all wear a variety of expressions, all somber. “And we know now… she’s not just some random girl.”
Yeah, they’ve all been assholes, some more than others, and Jisung can’t exactly say that they were any help in his struggle. But perhaps this was something he needed to go through alone. At the time, he needed you. But now… he just really needs his best friends. 
Tears sting at his eyes for the nth time. 
“Come here, you crybaby,” says Jaemin, opening his arms.
-
It’s Monday, meaning he has to go back to school today. He’s not ready, how could he be? It hasn’t even been a week since you… left, but he knows he has to go back. His sister, God bless her, had let him take the first few days off but now that the weekend has ended and school has rolled back around, he has no choice.
“You look like shit.”
Donghyuck has always lacked a filter. It would hurt if Jisung didn’t know that Donghyuck meant that in the best way possible. You look like shit, he says. So I’m glad you found it in you to come to school, is what he doesn’t say. 
Jisung closes his locker with a sigh. “Thanks.” 
“No problem,” snickers his friend, and Jisung turns his head to find Mark and Jaemin approaching. “Morning,” greets Jaemin as he taps the top of Jisung’s head, despite being shorter.
“Hi,” responds Jisung quietly, clutching his chemistry textbook to his chest. The three of them look at him with quiet and somber eyes, but don’t say anything. Mark places a comforting hand on his shoulder, giving it a small rub.
“You got this.” 
The truth is, he can’t do this. The world feels quiet and empty, lacking a particular passion that you used to always embody. It could be worse. Thank goodness your relationship was rather private; he doesn’t know how he’d be able to function at school had there been curious eyes on him, if you had gone to the same school as him. 
The day goes rather slowly, and Jisung busies himself with catching up on his work that he had missed. He could almost pretend like things are normal. It’s not until fifth period calculus that something strange happens. 
An office TA pokes her head in and scrambles over to the teacher, who was in the midst of a very enthralling lecture on integrals that Jisung was definitely not paying great attention to. The TA whispers something into the teacher’s ear, then hands her a piece of paper. Mrs. Huang nods, then suddenly Jisung finds her eyes on him. “Jisung, Mr. Moon wants you in his office.” 
Him? Why him of all people?
Mr. Moon is the guidance counselor at their school, and Jisung has a moment of internal panic—had he somehow found out about you? Should he prepare himself for a lecture about grief and moving on? 
With a gulp, he nods. 
Mr. Moon is a fairly nice man, with a friendly smile and a reputation for being a pushover teacher. Jisung had met with him a few months ago to discuss his desire to pursue a soccer scholarship but he highly doubts that’s the case now.
When Jisung enters Mr. Moon’s office, the first thing he sees isn’t Mr. Moon but a tall man with a stoic expression standing behind his desk. In contrast to the stranger, Mr. Moon wears his trademark smile. “Jisung, good to see you. Still getting a kick out of that old ball?” 
Of course, Mr. Moon doesn’t know that Jisung skipped practice all last week to mope in his bed, but Jisung nods politely. “Yes, sir.”
“Good,” responds the teacher with a smile. “Take a seat.”
He gestures to the chair in front of his desk, and cautiously does Jisung take a seat. The tall, bruff man is still standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, having not yet said a single word. Somehow the atmosphere is tense, and Jisung’s quite sure he knows what this is about. 
“Now, Jisung, I’ve called you in today because—”
“Is this about (Name)?” Perhaps it’s a bit rude of him, but Jisung doesn’t want to be prodded at, at least not by people who think they know him. The last thing he wants is pity. 
Mr. Moon’s eyebrow raises just the slightest, and he leans forward on his desk. “Why, yes, it is. How did you know?”
A scoff leaves Jisung’s lips, but it’s much weaker than he would like. “My question is, how did you know? Who told you?” Who was it that shared information on his personal life? Was it his sister? His friends? 
“Nobody had to tell me, Jisung. (Name) sent the letter to me herself.”
Wait… what? 
Jisung blinks, hands falling slack on his lap. “W-What? What letter?”
Perhaps his staring is a bit too obvious, for Mr. Moon gestures to the stranger in question with a hand. “Jisung, this is Johnny Seo.” Finally, the intimidating stranger has a name. “Johnny is the head coach of the soccer team at Greenwood University—” Wait, Greenwood University? That’s Jisung’s dream school—well, it was his dream school, until they rejected his application for a soccer scholarship. What would they want to do with him? “—and he wants to offer you a full-ride scholarship.”
What? 
Jisung’s mouth falls open. What? What the hell? Hadn’t they just rejected him three months ago? His eyes must be bugging out of his face, so he blinks repeatedly, trying to find the words to say. 
“W-Wait, what? A… A full ride?” He stammers, unable to find his tongue.
The man named Johnny only nods. “Full ride. Covered tuition, dorming, and soccer costs. All you have to do is keep your grades up and keep scoring those fancy goals of yours I’ve heard about.”
“But—But, you rejected me… why now?” 
For the first time, Johnny gives a small smile. “Because of the letter.” There it is, that letter again that Jisung has no idea about. He looks to Mr. Moon for guidance. All the counselor does is open his desk drawer and pull out an envelope, which he slides across his desk. “(Name) (Last Name) wrote a recommendation letter to the university, and honestly, it was stunning. It was enough to make the admissions board… bend a little, to say the least.” 
Reaching forward, Jisung grabs the envelope and examines it in his hands. It’s opened, but yes, on the front is your handwriting. He’s cried so much this past week that he doesn’t know how many times tears have touched his eyes, but they sting once more. This time, he doesn’t let them fall. 
“She… wrote a letter. For me?” 
“That she did,” responds Mr. Moon. 
“She’s right,” says Johnny suddenly. “In our work at the university, we’re always looking for the best of the best. We should look deeper, sometimes.” The words sink in the room, and Jisung finds himself staring down at the envelope in his hands. What things had you had to say about him?
Honestly, all he can think about is his failure. How he failed to be there for you, how he cowarded in your presence when you told him to leave you alone. He bites down on his lip. 
“So? Will you accept our offer?” 
Jisung looks up again, meeting Johnny’s expectant eyes. “I…” His mouth suddenly runs dry. “I don’t know, I… I need to think about it.”
“You’re not graduating for another four months. Take your time.” Slowly, still in glassy-eyed disbelief, Jisung nods. His fingers find the edge of the envelope, tracing its pointed edge. You wrote that for him. From across the desk, Mr. Moon speaks up. “You should read that letter, Jisung, and realize what’s coming for you: good things.” 
-
To Whom It May Concern,
Hello. My name is (Name) (Last Name), and I am a high school student writing this letter to appeal a rejection by your university. Not of my own application, but of an extraordinary person with the name Jisung Park. In my humble opinion, I believe that your institution has made a grave mistake in not offering a scholarship to Jisung. So, I write this letter to appeal such a rejection, and to do something that he hated, though it was what I always did best: write about Jisung. 
Now, Jisung is a humble person who never speaks up about his struggles, but the truth is that of all students, I believe he is the most in need of this scholarship. His parents passed when he was young, and he grew up in the care of his older sister who raised him. Their small but strong family made sacrifices, gave up luxuries, and endeavored to survive. 
In the midst of this crisis, Jisung found his one savior: soccer. 
He is, without a doubt, the best soccer player I have ever seen in my entire life. He can sprint across the field in half a normal player’s time, and I’ve never seen him miss a goal or a pass. But his soccer prowess isn’t what makes him great. Moreover, Jisung is the person you want on a team. He believes in teamwork, but is always striving to be better. He doesn’t want to stand out, but does so anyways. He is never arrogant, nor boastful. If there is one person who deserves this, it’s him.
But, I am sure that you are thinking: why should this letter mean anything to you? I’m not a highly valued individual in the community, nor have I done anything significant for my name to mean anything. I’m only a seventeen year old student, a struggling journalist. 
The answer to that question is, I know Jisung Park. You only see his grades, the shallow things on his application. You will never get to see the Jisung Park that I knew and loved. 
In my time alive, Jisung Park made an impact on my life that will never be forgotten. Even when life seemed the darkest, not a beam of light in the field's view, Jisung picked me up and made me see the sunset. I know now, the sunset is beautiful, warm, and comforting—everything that Jisung is. He never left my side, and never for a single moment did I ever feel alone in his presence. The world often overplays the saying “a heart of gold,” but the truth is that Jisung has one.
I used to think that love would be red, like the burning of one’s lungs racing down a soccer field, or black and white, made to be simple. But the truth is, love is golden. Golden like the sunset painting streaks against the floor, golden like Jisung. It’s a warmth that covers you from head to toe, relenting into a future that you don’t know. 
He is my golden boy, and he can be yours too. 
I may not have a future, but if there’s one thing that I know, it’s that Jisung deserves one. 
I’m a journalist. I don’t write love letters, but perhaps this is the closest I can ever get. And should Jisung ever read this letter, I hope he knows that with this, I dedicated my last spark of sunlight to him. 
Sincerely,
(Name) (Last Name)
-
Your funeral occurs on February 13th, a week and four days after your passing. 
Jisung stands in front of the bathroom mirror, nose scrunched in concentration as he makes a feeble attempt on his necktie. This is surely not as easy as throwing on a soccer jersey. “Ugh,” he groans, fingers getting confused again.
“Need help?”
His sister’s dainty voice calls him from the bathroom door. Dressed in all black, she’s ready too. Turning his head, Jisung sighs. “Please.” She makes his way toward him, fingers coming to work on his tie already with steady hands. 
“You’re too tall now,” she says softly, with a chuckle. It’s true; he used to look up to her, physically and figuratively, but now he’s an entire head above her. “You’ve grown up a lot.” 
It was his eighteenth birthday just a few days ago but to be quite honest, he hadn’t had the heart to celebrate it. If anything, he had always thought that his eighteenth birthday would be like an epiphany for him. As though he would wake up the morning of, feeling like an adult with all the answers to the world.
The truth is, he’s eighteen now and he still feels like he has no idea what he’s doing. 
“I don’t feel any different,” he admits. “I thought eighteen would mean something.”
“You’ll get there, trust me. And anyways, I always told you not to grow up too fast.”
For a moment there’s a silence as his sister swoops the tie in and out, weaving it to form the perfect knot. Feeling something scratch at the back of his throat, Jisung speaks. “... I’m sorry.”
“What are you apologizing for, silly? I was the one who never taught you how to knot a necktie,” she chuckles. 
“Not for that,” he says. “For last week. I… probably scared you.”
Suddenly, his sister is wearing that demure smile of hers again. The one that is small and polite, but always seems to carry more weight in it than he can see. “No. It’s okay, I knew you’d be better.” 
Naeun finally finishes the knot, tightening it the slightest around Jisung’s neck. “There you go.” He offers her a small thanks as he turns to look in the mirror, and she begins to leave. A sigh leaves him; there’s no avoiding it now, he’s ready to go.
“You know, Jisung,” she suddenly speaks up from the doorway. “I’m glad that you met her. Even if it ended up like this… you’re different. In a good way, and I think she had a lot to do with it. Even if you don’t feel different… you are.”
-
In the months of your relationship, Jisung had come to learn your insecurities. You were loud and proud, but with that confidence came an unwavering insecurity that you were unliked by those you spilled your tongue to. At the funeral, Jisung sees that that’s not at all true.
People give speeches for you, place flowers on your grave. The school newspaper had even written an article to commemorate your presence on their team, and the president of the club reads it aloud. A number of hospital staff make their appearance.
Even Jisung’s friends show up, despite the clear memory of them calling you crazy early on. Maybe they were right, maybe you were crazy. But he probably was too.
It doesn’t rain a single drop, though it had been pouring for three days before. Instead, the sun peeks through the overcast clouds, gifting sunshine. 
Jisung smiles. 
He probably looks like an idiot, carrying the soccer ball around the entire funeral but he knows what it means to him, and what it means to you. When he places it on your grave, the grass still fresh, his eyes catch the carefully written words on a singular white spot.
I love you. 
He knows that he means it. 
At eighteen, there a lot of things that Jisung still doesn’t know. But even so, there are a handful of truths that he can hold onto forever. One, he’s still an incredible soccer player and girls are still very scary. But like soccer, maybe that just takes time and practice. 
Two, growing up isn’t about a number. It’s not about partying or drinking, nor is it about rushing into relationships that have little meaning. For years Jisung had wanted to grow up, to face the world with no fears and be able to cruise through. But he knows now that growing up is about being strong in the face of sadness, pain, grief. About waking up every morning even if you feel like you have no reason to. 
Love is the same.
Love isn’t about making out on the bleachers after practice or trying to copy the coy clichés seen in romance movies. It’s about the sacrifices, like four hour bus rides. It’s about communication and connection, like a recommendation letter traced in gold. Because of you, he’s moving forward. He can go to college, and the day will never come when he stops being grateful toward you and everything you’ve done. That’s love, and he will spend the rest of his life loving you. Maybe the love will change but it will always be love. 
It hurts that you’re gone, it really does. Jisung doesn’t think it’ll ever stop hurting.
But the last thing he knows is that things will be okay.
Life moves on, and he will too. 
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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years ago
Text
Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 6
Positive
Cult girl and Hannibal find a way to turn a life-altering mistake to their favor.
@wisesandwichshark
Trigger warnings: accidental pregnancy, discussion of abortion, adoption, slight emetophobia
Another week passed and the 'hangover' didn't subside. Then a third week passed, so you had to give up the façade and just admit you were sick. Hannibal was smugly concerned, but not alarmed. It paid to have a doctor for a fiancé. Studying could be done from bed and you needed to be in perfect working order to burn down your grandmother's country club and fully enjoy it.
Hannibal wasn't so much of a hypochondriac that he denied you affection while bed-ridden. That, or he didn't believe what you had was contagious. Whatever it was.
It wasn't until you woke up late, just days before the start of the new semester, that you discovered. You hobbled blindly to the bathroom to take your medicine. You were fully prepared to drop to your knees and vomit in the toilet and you wanted nothing more than to return to bed and slip back into sweet unconsciousness. Not even microdosing meth could keep you awake.
You slid your birth control packet out of its sleeve. You were halfway through the green placebo pills, so you were sure that didn't help how miserable you felt. This period sure had a hell of a build-up.
That's when a number caught your eye.
It was a number you weren't even previously aware existed. A date on your birth control packet. Dated three months prior.
You weren't lucid enough to comprehend what it meant, but once it hit you, you spit the pill into the sink.
Expired. You thought. How the fuck do pills expire?
No. No. No. No.
"[F/N]?" Hannibal said. "Is everything okay?"
"Yeah." You called back. "I... just need to take a shower."
You turned the faucet on. It was a bad lie and he would figure it out eventually, but you couldn't involve him. Not yet. You needed a minute alone to think.
You found the pregnancy test you stashed under the sink all those years ago. You double-checked the lock, then began the test. There was no romantic or even palatable way to describe the process of peeing on a stick, quietly as possible, to avoid your frankly terrifying fiancé's notice. Once it was done, you wrapped the still-loading test in toilet paper and shoved it back under the sink.
You had no idea how long it would take to give you a result. Or if waiting four years to use it would give you a false result. There was so much you didn't know.
You jumped into the shower and washed up, trying to push all thoughts of panic out of your head. It didn't work. You went right into bury-the-body mode. A fall down the stairs could best pass for an accident, but had the unintended consequences of severe bodily harm. You wondered if those special herbal teas actually worked and where you'd find one. Or, instead of investing in gimmicky, pseudo-scientific abortion teas or throwing yourself down a flight of stairs, you could just talk to him.
You sat on the bathroom floor in a towel for what felt like hours, holding the mummified pregnancy test between your fingers. It took all your strength to rip through the tissue paper and confirm what you already knew.
A big, obnoxious pink plus sign. Almost like it was rubbing it in.
Your head was screaming just talk to him. He was your goddamn fiancé. The man you were going to spend the rest of your life with. But you couldn't tell him. Not after what he said at the country club.
"Hannibal?" You called out, voice weak. "Can you come here, please?"
He opened the bathroom door to find you huddled against the sink wearing nothing but a towel. It was a sight that would make anyone freak out.
"My god, [F/N]." He took a knee beside you. "Are you hurt? Did you hit your head?"
You gestured to the pregnancy test at your side. You hugged your knees into your chest and waited for him to process everything.
He looked at you with an unreadable expression. "I thought you were on birth control?"
You covered your face with your hands. "I did too. Nobody told me that the pills actually expire."
Then came the question that you were dreading.
"What do you want to do?"
That was why you were hesitant to tell him. Not because he would try to make a decision for you, but because he wouldn't.
"I don't know." You blurted out. "What do you want to do?"
Hannibal raised his eyebrows. "You know I can't tell you that. You need to decide for yourself."
"That's what I was afraid you were going to say." You threw your head back in exasperation. "I'm just asking for a little direction. You said you definitely wanted to have kids-"
"Not like this." He cut you off. "Not when it would derail your entire career.” 
“Look, you know I was on the fence about having kids at all.” You rambled, just trying to collect your thoughts. “But then you described what you wanted for us and it just sounded so nice.” 
“Darling, I am begging you,” He pressed his fingers to his temples. “Please, decide for yourself and only yourself.” 
“I’m trying!” You objected. “I just need a second to think.” 
“Don’t think, just answer.” He implored. “What do you want to do?” 
“I want to get an abortion.” You blurted out before slapping your hand over your mouth. 
“Was that really so hard to say?” Hannibal asked, voice broken with relief. Relief of what, you couldn’t place. 
You couldn’t bring yourself to make eye contact with him. “It was, a little.” 
“Why?” He tilted his head curiously. “And please don’t say it was because of me.” 
“I don’t know.” You shrugged, hiding your face again. “I just learned I was pregnant, like, five minutes ago. I shouldn’t be expected to make a choice this massive without at least ten minutes to think about it.” 
“Do you really want to get an abortion?” He asked. 
Your voice wobbled with uncertainty. “No... yes?” 
“I see.” He said, as if this were just a point of academic curiosity that didn’t involve him whatsoever. “Is there a part of you, no matter how small, that wants to see the pregnancy to term?” 
“Well, yeah. Thus the basis of my uncertainty.” You threw your hands up. “But I also know it’s insanely unrealistic to think I could just speedrun my last two years of school and however long it takes to establish a career just to get to the domestic bliss.”
“You would do good to not expect motherhood to be a blissful retirement plan, love." Hannibal gently scorned. "Parenting takes just as much commitment as your studies. Likely more."
"I know." You bashed your palms against your forehead. "I said it was unrealistic, didn't I? Look, I just don't foresee any worthwhile outcomes if I carry this pregnancy to term. Even to put it up for adoption just seems selfish. Why bring a kid into the world just to set them up for a shitty life?"
Hannibal paused, and looked off into the distance pensively.
"If you could forgive me a hypothetical," He began. "What if we could guarantee them a wonderful life?"
"Are we talking philosophy, or do you have an actual suggestion?" You probed.
"A bit of both, depending on where your mind takes you." He smirked as if he were about to say something very clever. "What if Beatrice [L/N]'s estate made sure our child had a safe, comfortable upbringing? With a weighty college trust fund in their name, naturally."
You couldn't tell if this was brilliant or insane. It all depended on how 'hypothetical' the whole situation really was. Either way, you were interested.
"Go on." You urged, letting the idea slither into your mind.
"There's nothing in the will that specifically states we must raise the child ourselves." He recounted. "Only that it must be of blood descent."
You hadn't considered that, but it made sense once you heard it out loud. Your grandmother had many skills to make her a sharp manipulator, but her inattention to detail was always her downfall.
“Forty-five million extra dollars in the bank would be nice.” You said. You were humoring him at first, but when you said it out loud, it rang true. 
“Forty-five is drops in the bucket compared to what we can get from her property.” He added. “The house and the golf course.” 
You put your hand on your chin, actually, seriously considering it. You were on the precipice of inheriting more money than you could possibly spend in one lifetime. Money that could make so many problems go away overnight. Money you could hand out to anyone you wanted to, just to make their lives a little easier. You pictured yourself giving waitstaff six-figure tips, or handing a hundred dollar bill to someone asking for change on the street. You could erase your best friend's college debt as a birthday present. Get Hannibal a proper gift. All with money you bled out of your abusers.
It was divine justice. All at the price of nine months of your life.
"So..." Your voice trailed off. "We just need to keep this thing alive for the next nine months..."
"We can find an adoptive family in that time." Hannibal nodded along. "And we can set up a college fund for the child to be given to them on their 18th birthday."
"And we could make the adoption open, in case the child ever wants to meet us." You said.
"Right." He agreed. "Allowing the option for an adoptee to meet their biological parents is much better for their mental health and adjustment."
You covered your mouth with your hand, only to hide your excitement. "I take it back, I'm starting to see a positive outcome."
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redrobin-detective · 3 years ago
Text
Like You
Trequel to Half Of and The only ghost in Amity Park
“We need to talk, Fenton,” Valerie hissed, slamming Danny’s locker shut in his face. He pursed his lips and lowered his gaze but said nothing. Manson scoffed and stepped right up, putting her finger in Valerie’s face.
“He doesn’t owe you anything, Val so lay off. If he wants to talk to you, he will, not because you demanded it.” Val grabbed Sam’s wrist, strong but still such delicate bones. The goth flinched a bit as Valerie applied pressure.
“Only my friends,” Valerie hissed with a hard look over at Danny, “get to call me Val. But I guess we’re not friends if you kept something like this from me.”
“Val...erie, let her go,” Danny mumbled quietly. “We’ll talk after school, meet me by the equipment shed behind the football field.”
“Alone,” Val said, flicking away Sam’s wrist. “None of your adoring, enabling entourage, new or old.” 
“No way in hell,” Sam said, clearly resisting the urge to hold onto her injured wrist. “Like we’d trust Danny with someone like you.”
“What? Human?” Valerie asked back. Danny stuck his hands between them and forced them apart. Now that Val was looking, the entire hall was watching them. Whatever, they didn’t matter. 
“Cut it out,” Danny frowned, looking over both of them. “Sam, I’ll be fine talking to her alone.” He turned back to her with his blue eyes. As long as she’d known him, Danny’s had a presence about him. She took it as growing up in such a strange house and later her growing crush. But there was no way to explain away the icy, electric feel of his gaze holding her own. “3:30, equipment shed, just talking. Okay?”
“Fine,” Valerie said, turning and stomping down the hall so she had the last word. The rest of the day passed slowly as she gripped the sides of her desk and bounced her leg, thinking about Danny Fenton. How long had Danny been a ghost or half of one, how was that even possible? Had he always been that way and she simply hadn’t noticed? Her? The best ghost hunter in Amity? How much of Danny was real and what was just a cruel ghostly joke? That’s the question that burned the most. Danny seemed to be the only one who liked this new, more grounded Valerie. What would she do if her closest friend was just messing with her?
Finally, school ended and she stalked purposefully towards the equipment shed. Interesting choice of location, it was almost never used since most every day sports gear was stored in the locker rooms. Did he chose it because it was isolated? Danny didn’t seemed worried about confronting her alone, what abilities could he have that he wasn’t scared of her? That made her pause once the shed came into sight. She’d only heard about Danny’s powers, never having ever seen them firsthand. Valerie took an ectogun from her bag and slipped it in back waistband of her skirt. Just in case.
Danny was sitting on the roof of the shed, weirdly enough. It would be next to impossible to climb so he had to have flown. She’d already heard of him floating but the idea of Danny Fenton and superpowers still didn’t add up in her head. He was rubbing at a tear in his jeans when she approached. Danny gave a little awkward half smile that, a few days ago, would have sent her stomach into somersaults. Now seeing it just made her sick.
“Are you gonna hide up there all day?” She asked curtly, hands on her hips. 
“You could always join me up here,” Danny shrugged, getting more comfortable on the roof. Val raised a disbelieving eyebrow, eyeing the lack of handles and the broken splinters on the old shed. “We’re far enough away, no one will see you use your hoverboard.” Just when Valerie thought he was done being surprised. She gaped open mouthed at Danny who got nervous and rubbed his hands anxiously. “You uh you wanted to talk so I thought we ought to lay all our cards on the table.” He took a deep breath, “I know you’re the Red Huntress Val...erie.” 
“How!” She demanded, activating her board without thought to get to the roof. She grabbed Danny by the shirt and hauled him forward until their faces were inches apart. His body radiated a soft chill that brushed against her skin. He held up his hands in surrender.
“Since the start, Sam and I, we saw you in the park, remember? You caught us uhhhh,” Danny trailed off, looking away with a blush. It took Val a minute but she remembered one of her first outings with the suit, she was chasing Phantom and his stupid dog only to find Danny and Sam kissing in the bushes. She hadn’t cared about the love lives of losers at the time. It had only become relevant when she started catching feeling for Danny but he’d assured her multiple times that he and Manson weren’t a couple. “It wasn’t real, the kiss I mean. It was Sam’s idea, you surprised us and we didn’t have time to hide so you didn’t...” he trailed off.
"Didn’t, what?” She demanded. Valerie gasped when Danny simply phased out of her grip and assuming his previous position on the roof. She stared for a moment at her hands before looking up again at Danny who was back to fiddling with his clothes. There it was, irrefutable proof that Danny wasn’t human. It felt like her heart was being chipped away with a hammer. 
“Look, this has been kind of a hard week for me,” Danny groaned, raking his hands forcefully through his hair. “I get my powers outed, I need to convince my parents not to kill me the rest of the way, keep the ghosts off my back for a period, get the government to acknowledge my existence all the while dealing with everyone’s stares and questions at school.” He tucked his knees closer and flopped his face into them. “I said I would be honest with you and I’m trying but I’ve already had to give so much of myself this week and... I don’t know, what do you even want from me?”
“I want answers!” Valerie tried to demand but it came across as more whiney. She pushed back any tears that were threatening to come. “I want to know what was real! Was our friendship real? Our feelings? Are you even real? And if you knew I Huntress all this time then why... why would you even talk to me? Were you just playing with me? Spying on me? What did you want with me?”
“I’m real, Val, I promise,” He held out his hand and she reluctantly took it. His hand was chilly but there always where, it was also solid with knobbing bones and ropy muscles. Beneath it all, there was a sluggish but persistent pulse. She squeezed his hand, it was a human hand and yet it had also passed right through her. How could he be real and not real at once?
“As for what I wanted, just a friend really,” Danny said, keeping his head on his folded knees but turning towards her. She read nothing but sincerity in his eerily blue eyes. “Sam, Tuck and I, we have serious history. We know each other inside and out. But you, you were someone new. I loved hearing about your interests, your dreams, finding out who you were as a person beyond that jerk who made fun of me the second week of Freshman year for wearing my dad’s jumpsuit to school. I liked being able to be a normal person with you, I think I had started to forget with the whole ghost thing going on.”
“What happened?” Valerie couldn’t help but ask.
“Lab accident,” Danny said quietly, “Sam and Tuck were there, wasn’t pretty. Thought I was goner for sure. I survived somehow but I got some freaky powers out of the deal. There’s downsides but some sweet benefits,” he tilted his head back and looked longingly up at the sky. “Flying is the best.”
“Yeah,” Val couldn’t help but sigh in agreement. She could almost the feel the sensation of the wind whipping against her suit. Hear the roar as she soared through the clouds. It was hard to imagine Danny flying but his eyes shined with understanding she usually only saw in the mirror. “So why did you hang out with me knowing I hunted ghosts?”
“It just sorta happened, You obviously sensed that Sam and Tucker weren’t too happy about the risk.” No kidding, Val had gotten warmer welcomes from freezers. “But you were cool, Val. Plus you,” he paused and seemed to consider his words. “I felt like once we got over the hump you would get it in a way the other don’t. You know what it like to balance two lives, to have insane power at your fingertips, to feel like if you take even a second break that the ghosts will overwhelm the town. It’s just... a lot to deal with alone, Sam, Tucker and Jazz, they try to understand but they just don’t.”
He looked over at her, “I guess it was nice to know that there was someone like me out there,” he blushed, “and that someone uh liked me. For being me, y’know?”
“Clearly I didn’t know everything,” she grumbled watching as Danny winced. Val frowned, she probably wasn’t being entirely fair, she hadn’t exactly been honest with Danny either. 
“So you fight ghosts, huh?” Valerie couldn’t help was ask with a little smile. Trying to picture it. The Danny she thought she knew wouldn’t but this Danny... “Is that why you’re always running out of class?”
“Isn’t that why you leave?” He teased back hesitantly. “I’m honestly a little surprised no one figured me out before. I was really bad at hiding at first. Of course it’s only when I get the whole ‘secret identity’ thing down that I get exposed.” He huffed, the ends of his hair lifting out of his eyes. 
“Secret identity, so you can turn into a ghost?” Danny was silent. “Have I seen you out there?” More silence. “Have I... have I shot at you?” Everything seemed quiet save for their asynchronous breathing. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“It stung but not enough to keep me down for long,” Danny said, flexing his arms but his smile was strained. There was something about it that was haunting, familiar. She turned to look at the woods because if she stared any longer she’d realize which ghost Danny turned into and neither of them was ready for that right now. 
“So now what?” She asked.
“I don’t know,” Danny sighed. “I’m kind of taking it one day at a time. Mom and Dad are nervous, jumpy, I’m not sure if they’re more scared of me or of themselves and what they did. My sister and friends are being annoyingly overprotective. People who hated me last week are suddenly in my face asking questions and demanding demonstrations. The government wants to kill me but,” he snorted a little, and tilted his head towards her floppily. “I'm also talking to you about this part of my life for the first time. Lying was a necessity I never grew comfortable with, I think I could do with a bit of honesty.”
“Yeah me too,” Valerie said, straightening up and looking Danny in the eye. “I’m still not sure how I feel about this. I don’t like ghosts and I likely never will. I’m going to continuing being Huntress and keeping the town safe. But I’m willing to give you chance, give you time to open up completely. It’ll give us both times to come to terms with everything, and maybe then we can figure out where we stand.”
“I’ll take it!” Danny beamed, “I was worried you were coming here to off me with that ectogun you have stashed in your skirt so this is much better!”
“How did you-” She gasped.
He winked and tapped his forehead, “I’m pretty sensitive to ectoplasm, especially out here in the real world. Gotta admit sometimes when my energy was low, I sought you out. Did you know your suit radiates a low level ectoplasmic field, even when you’re not wearing it?” He twisted his face in thought. “Now that we’re talking-talking, I should warn you what side effects excess exposure to ectoenergy can cause.” He twisted his hand and a small green ectoblast formed in his palm briefly before dissipating. “If that worries you, my parents can hook you up with some sweet ghost hunting equipment that won’t contaminate you.”
“So I could have powers like you one day?” She asked carefully, looking over her hands thoughtfully.
“Maybe, I don’t know. Mine was a kind of one in a million accident, well, two,” he made a face. “That’s whole other story, don’t ask. But we could maybe find out together, Val,” he winced. “Valerie.”
“Val is fine,” she said quietly, still thinking too many things. “We have a lot of things to figure out but in the meantime, you can keep calling me Val.” 
“I’d like that,” he smiled. “So uh, do you want to come to movie night tomorrow? It’s at my house this week. I uh always wanted to invite you before but Sam, Tuck and I usually end up talking ghost stuff during the movie so we couldn’t before but if you’re interested... could be fun to have you there. We’re watching The Shining.”
“That movie is like a billion years old,” Val laughed with an eyeroll.
“It’s a classic, I was named after the kid in that movie!” Danny defended. “I’ll text you the details but its up to you. Either way, we’ll uh, we’ll keep talking. See you around, Val.” And just like that, he vanished. She swiveled her head around but Danny Fenton was truly gone.
“Jerk,” she grumbled but there was no heat to it. She heard a giggle above her and knew Danny, in his secret ghost form, was probably flying. And it was too nice a day to walk home. She activated her suit and took to the skies herself. Valerie didn’t know if Danny was with her or not, she just turned off her brain and fell into the motion of aggressive loops and high speed dives around her town.
 Everything had turned upside down with the knowledge that Danny wasn’t who she thought he was. But again, things had been crazy since the ghosts first came to town. So she and Danny were at a stand still, not friends and not enemies, not open but not secretive either. It was a weird state to be in but Danny was probably used to being in a state of half life himself. But she’d worry about all that later, for now it just her and sky. 
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eartht137 · 3 years ago
Text
DEAREST HEART-LETTER TWO
Whooo, goodness!! I spooked myself after writing the first letter. There is a dog next door to my house and she likes to stare out towards the back "alley way" and one night while I was showering by candlelight (blinds still aren't fixed) she wouldn't stop staring out at the alley way. My azz was spooked lol. That being said, here is another "letter" from Mr. Kal El himself. Enjoy curvies MMMMMMwwwaahhhhhhh!!!!
Dark Clark Kent x Plus Size Reader
Warnings: Stalking (This chapter is pretty tame)
A few days later, the whole situation had hidden itself in your brain. You had so much going on in your waking life, you really didn't have time to dwell on a possible prank. Your birthday had arrived and you really weren't feeling too thrilled about it. Your depression just had to spike up and ruin the one day you thought you would enjoy, but you didn't even get to stress about it for long. You'd stepped into your office to boot up your computer for the day, and you saw it. On your desk was a letter, same vintage parchment, but his time it had an Aster instead of a Rose. You stared at it for so long, wondering if you should read it or not. You finally sat down and pulled the letter out of the envelope to see what he had to say.
Happy Birthday Little One,
I wish so badly that I could show you the best birthday you've ever had, but that will have to wait. I know you're not looking forward to today. I've noticed you haven't mentioned it much, and you almost forgot. How do you forget your birthday silly girl? I have purchased a gift every year since we met, I can't wait until I'm able to give them to you and you can unwrap each and everyone as if it were Christmas. Why haven't you planned anything? Not even a free day for yourself, what's going on? I wish you would talk to me. I want so badly to help you get better, but its a one day at a time deal. I was there you know, when you almost died? I was there the night you called your husband and told him the truth about how bad you felt. I swear it was the scariest night of my life when the surgeon walked in and told you they were putting you in an induced state for a week. All I could think was, what if you didn't wake up, or what if they did something wrong? What if they hurt you more or caused a bad reaction. I have seen a lot of things, but I have never been so sad and afraid to lose someone like you. I watched over you every night, making sure you'd come back to me and the baby. Well, you know what I mean. I know that's been rough on you, but you are making great progress. I remember you saying you'd like to change your hair, would you like for me to set up your appointment? I think you'd look delicious with cherry red hair, just don't cut it please. I love your hair. I love everything about you. I know you don't remember, but the moment our eyes met, I couldn't get you out of my head. I tried, I swear I tried so hard to stay away. I'd go for walks at night to clear my head and try not to think of you, and I'd find myself further and further away from home. It has to be fate that wants us together, because there you were, pulling in from work one night. I watched you sit there blaring your music, trying to finish the song before you went inside. I knew you right away, I had never been so....I can't describe how it felt, it was overwhelming. It had to be love that outweighed the hurt, even your "husband" walked out to greet you, it just couldn't overshadow what my heart felt. I told myself that I loved you enough to let you be happy, and I did for awhile. Not one day or night went by where you didn't cross my mind, so I decided to whisk by and take a picture of you, just for memory of the woman I couldn't have. One picture turned to two, two turned to ten. I had to get the perfect angle, but the only perfect angle is up close, in person; like I said I did try. I wish I could take you out for your birthday. I'd cook for us and we'd go down by the river, or I could take you somewhere 5 star. I know its really not your thing, but you deserve to be served like a queen. You are a queen to me. I dreamed about you, I dream about you all the time, but this one was different. It scared me so much, I woke in cold sweat. I can't bear to think about it now, but I know it was just a stupid dream. I will have to go out of the country for awhile, but I promise to still write as often as I can. I love you, so much.
With All My Heart and Soul,
Kal-El
"Babe!!! Babe, I need to tell you something." You said scared senseless. You rushed to your husband, showing him the letters and explained that you thought it was a sick prank. Your husband immediately called the police. He packed you all up and as much as he hated it, you all went to stay with your mom.
That night while you were up talking to your mom, she leaned back and asked you something insane.
"Is that really another man's baby?" she asked seriously.
"NO! I don't even know who this is, I swear I don't know a Kal-El. I've never met anyone like that in all my life." You whisper screamed at her as you struggled to hold back tears. She stared into your eyes for a moment before sighing heavily. Before you knew it she was crying and hugging your neck so tight you couldn't breathe.
"After all you've been through, this was the last thing you needed. I've always told you to be careful and watch your surroundings." She fussed.
"Ma I did, but I don't ever go anywhere. I stay in the house most of the time and I'm always with my family." You couldn't help but feel as if you were being attacked.
"You never know who is watching you." She argued back.
"Ma, look at me." You said standing back opening your arms to show your full body. "All these years I've worked hard to feel comfortable in my own skin. It took me a long time to feel fully comfortable around my own husband. All of these years you guys have trashed me for my weight, the times you all have told me that I get different treatment for my size, there was no way in this world I could've ever imagined that I would get stalked by-by this Kal-El fucker!" You yelled as tears flowed down your face, you could even feel your face strain in anger. "Now this is happening, and I should've been watching my surroundings. You drilled in my head for years that people looked past me for you and everyone else. You drilled in my head that people would only want me to use me, YOU DRILLED IN MY HEAD THAT I NEVER HAD THE LOOK TO MAKE IT OUT HERE, SO NOW HERE WE ARE WITH A MANIAC THAT SOMEHOW MANAGED TO FIND ME THAT I DON'T EVEN KNOW OR HAVE ANY CLUE AS TO WHAT THIS GUY LOOKS LIKE AND I SHOULD'VE BEEN WATCHING MY SURROUNDINGS!?" Your head felt like it was on fire, then all at once stars appeared and you lost vision.
When you woke up you were laying on the floor with a jacket under your neck as your mom and family (that she had called) stood around trying to get you to come back to. You tried sitting up, but only felt dizzier. Your hands and feet felt numb and you were shaking as sweat poured off of your body. Your husband sat by you, fanning you and giving you water. When you began to feel better, he helped you up and over to the couch. He asked everyone to leave you alone and not upset you anymore.
"Baby what do you want to do? How can I make you feel safe?" Your husband asked.
You stared deep in his eyes and remembered why you loved him so much. He always went out of his way to make sure you were happy. You thought back to not so pleasant days when you both argued and said mean things and your realized then and there how much you took him for granted sometimes. Before you knew it the flood gates released and you sobbed.
"Can you just hold me please?" You asked in a small pitiful voice.
"I will always hold you and be there for you baby. I love you. We will get through this together, like we always do."
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dreamyyang · 4 years ago
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summary: you made taeil’s undead heart soar and he was absolutely addicted to the feeling.
pairing(s): yandere!zombie!moon taeil x reader | kim doyoung x reader
warning(s): swearing, obsessive behaviour, mentions of blood, gore (kind of..?), minor character death, cannibalism, non con (taeil forcefully kisses the reader)
word count: 2.6k words
a/n: this is pretty heavy stuff so if any of the aforementioned content triggers you, do not read. please note that I do not condone taeil’s behaviour and that this is purely a work of fiction. my fic is not an accurate representation of taeil’s actual personality. 
part of @127-mile’s addiction collab
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emotions were as foreign to moon taeil as brains and human flesh once were. while he doesn’t mind either of them, they were just very hard to come by. that changed when he got a job at the qian family’s mortuary, courtesy of qian kun, a mutual friend. johnny had already explained taeil’s special situation to kun, who agreed to give taeil access to the bodies so long as he worked as kun’s assistant. it was an excellent arrangement for both men - taeil could finally eat some proper food while kun finally had help. for obvious reasons, not many people were willing to work at a morgue, especially for such low wages.
taeil managed to ease himself into a routine of work, brains, sleep then repeat. while many people would eventually go insane from being constantly surrounded by cold, still bodies, taeil couldn’t care less. a zombie couldn’t ask for a better arrangement. while he did not experience emotions, he still felt a semblance of peace.
at least, that was before you showed up, completely unannounced. of course, your arrival wasn’t completely random, kun did warn taeil that his cousin was coming home after getting their phd, but you weren’t what taeil expected. he had this mental image of you being stoic and reserved. he thought you’d briefly acknowledge him with a slight nod while visiting your cousin and that would be it. imagine his surprise when he came to work and was greeted by a smile brighter than the sun. you were like the human embodiment of a meadow of flowers in the summer - warm, wonderful and welcoming. hell, you even smelled like flowers.
suddenly, his daily routine was ruined. 
most mornings, you would meet him at the mortuary, looking as fresh as a daisy, and hand him an equally fresh box of baked goods from the bakery next to your clinic. if it was a slow morning, and it usually was, you would make small talk with him while kun went over the day’s plans in his office. he began to cherish those morning conversations with you and his undead heart would sink when the clock struck nine and it was time for you to hug him and kun goodbye. from then on, he was usually in a sour mood for the rest of the day, not humouring the silly jokes kun made as they worked. he would get off work with a dull ache in his heart if you weren’t there to pick kun up or offer to take them out for drinks.
this abrupt change frightened taeil more than anything. why was he suddenly experiencing these strange feelings? he hated it. every day, he was going through a rollercoaster of emotions that would be decided by whether or not he saw his boss’ cousin. it was so absurd. in the past five years of him being a zombie, he hadn’t felt such extreme emotions before. they all felt so...so human.
when he consulted johnny about these strange occurrences, his friend began to howl with laughter, “dude, it’s so obvious!” 
taeil glared at johnny, “care to explain what exactly is so obvious?”
“you like y/n. why else would you be constantly pining for them?” 
taeil scoffed. johnny must have smoked something because there was no way he liked you. at best, he had known you for three months and it isn’t like you regularly spent time together. plus, you were related to his boss. johnny had no idea what he was talking about, he was full of shit.
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“that’s bullshit. I don’t buy it,” taeil shook his head, leaning back in his chair.
“no I swear, it’s true! we drove past this factory and they were just beheading these chickens out in the open,” you sighed. “anyway, the sight was so sickening, I’ve never looked at meat the same way since.”
“yet you decided to be a thoracic surgeon.”
you shrugged, “yeah but operating on people and eating meat are two different things. I don’t mind looking at flesh and blood but the thought of eating any makes me sick.”
taeil silently thanked you as you made that statement. ever since johnny had suggested that taeil liked you, he’d been searching for reasons not to like you. and of course, there’s no way he could like you if you were a vegetarian. you would be absolutely disgusted if you knew what his main diet consisted of. yet, every now and then, he felt his mind drifting away to a different mental list - a list of the things he liked about you.
he liked how you would come up with the most absurd conversation starters, just to make him crack a smile. he liked how your hugs were warm and comfortable. he was even beginning to like the fuzzy feeling that would envelop his heart whenever he was around you. you made him giddy and lovesick and eventually, he didn’t mind anymore. being around you all the time forced him to accept that he had very strong feelings for you. in fact, he was certain that even as a human, he had never had feelings this intense. there was just something special about you that had him feeling some sort of way. normally, he would have been afraid of how you controlled your heart but now? he was in too deep to care.
he decided it was better for him to just accept the fact that he loved you. why try to fight it? it was highly unlikely that he would feel this way about anyone ever again. he had to hold onto you, he would be insane to let you go. 
finally, he plucked up the courage to confess to you. he was falling for you more and more every single day, and not being with you was slowly killing him. he decided to surprise you at the clinic where you worked with a bouquet of your favourite flowers. he planned to treat you to lunch at a romantic café then confess to you while walking you back to the clinic. he had rehearsed the little speech he wanted to give over twenty times with johnny, who repeatedly assured him that everything would go well. 
it did not go well.
taeil was greeted by a unpleasant surprise when he reached the entrance of the clinic. there you stood, his beloved y/n, in another man’s arms. taeil watched, horrified, as the man placed a soft kiss on your lips. you looked so happy with him and it broke taeil’s heart. he felt awful as he watched you smile at the man. that same wonderful smile that he wished was for his eyes only. it felt like a cruel joke to have your laughter fill his ears as tears pricked his eyes. taeil was glad that nobody was paying attention to him as hot tears stained his cheeks. he couldn’t have gotten away sooner, pushing past the people on the street to go home. 
he quickly texted an excuse to kun about how he felt sick and would be gone for the rest of the day. it wasn’t exactly a lie - he did feel sick and every time he thought about you and the stranger, it only got worse. he ripped up the bouquet and the plastic that had been wrapped around their stems, screaming as he did it. pain bled into fury as he destroyed the beautiful flowers. he was unbelievably angry and wouldn’t stop until every last petal had been snatched from the base and scattered on the floor. he was blinded by rage as he made a mess of his apartment floor. finally, the bouquet had been completely ripped apart and tears cleared taeil’s vision.
he dropped to the floor, feeling miserable as he stared at the mess, tears streaking down his face. he loved you so much, but someone had stolen you away. how dare that asshole? you were supposed to be taeil’s, how could he just come between the two of you like that? how incredibly selfish of him. taeil had to get rid of him, as soon as possible. the more time you spend with that jerk, the more he’ll ruin you. taeil scowled at the memory of the two of you kissing. he will pay.
 it was decided. taeil was going to make you his, one way or another. whether you liked it or not.
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“I hate this, taeil.”
taeil nodded, feigning sympathy as you pouted and continued to complain, “doyoung’s been so busy the past week that he hasn’t been able to call me even once. he just sends brief texts… I really miss him.”
“that sucks, y/n, but you know, it’s a very demanding job.”
“yeah I know…but would it kill him to at least call to say good night?” you sighed, sipping your tea. “whatever. thank you so much for listening to my rant, taeil, I really appreciate it. you’re an awesome friend.”
the word stung, but taeil tried not to show it as he smiled and promised you that he didn’t mind. which was half true. taeil could never get tired of listening to you talk about any topic but one - kim doyoung, your boyfriend. it didn’t really matter, though. soon, taeil would make sure that you would forget all about that piece of shit. soon, moon taeil would be the only thing on your mind, just like how you were the only thing on his min
but first he had to punish you. you deserved it. if you hadn’t gone and dated another man, he wouldn’t have considered such a thing. you needed to be disciplined. you belonged to taeil and he was going to make sure that you remembered that fact. so he sat there in front of you, politely nodding as you vented about your boyfriend, and tried to think of a suitable punishment.
“I know I’m complaining about him a lot, but I really like doyoung,” you laughed. “even though he took me to a barbecue place for our first date.”
that’s when a lightbulb went off in taeil’s brain.
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for someone who couldn’t survive without eating brains, taeil sure was an idiot. somehow, he’d gotten roped into a dinner date with you, doyoung and doyoung’s sister, jisoo. at least he managed to convince you to let him host the dinner at his apartment, insisting that he wanted to make a good first impression on jisoo. you’d wiggled your eyebrows and teased him about it but he knew, deep down, setting him up with someone else was hurting you. but you wouldn’t have to worry about hiding your feelings for much longer - taeil would soon relieve you of your misery. ideally of course, he wouldn’t want to start off your relationship with a double date with other people. not to mention your little punishment, but hey, all relationships have their ups and downs.
now if he could just get that pesky little jisoo out of the way.
after briefly stalking doyoung’s instagram account, taeil managed to find jisoo’s account and figured out where she worked. getting her to stay away was easier than he thought it would be. all he had to do was press a small knife against her neck and she was begging for him to leave her alone. he left her trembling in the alley behind her office, with her tears stinging the small cut that ran down the side of her cheek. he wasn’t worried about her telling her brother since that’s who he’d be visiting next.
he had to say, out of all the humans he’d made dishes out of, doyoung was certainly the best. probably because his meat was actually fresh, but you really seemed to enjoy him as well.
“god taeil, your spaghetti is wonderful. I can’t believe doyoung and jisoo are missing out,” you nearly moaned as you devoured your dinner. “these are the best vegan meatballs I’ve ever had. seriously, how’d you make this?”
taeil shrugged, “I used a pretty basic recipe, although I did use something extra special for those meatballs.”
“would you mind sharing what that special thing is, master moon?”
taeil’s smile dropped, his expression completely serious now. you didn’t think much of it, taeil was probably just being dramatic. however his tone as he spoke his next sentence sent a chill down your spine.
“enough dilly-dallying. tell me, sweetheart, did you really think you could get away with dating another man?”
you were too stunned to speak, what the fuck did he just say?
“woah, don’t get shy now. did you seriously think you could go be someone else's whore and I wouldn’t get mad?”
“taeil, what on earth are you talking about?”
you looked like a scared and helpless little rabbit and taeil would be lying if he said that didn’t make him feel some type of way. taeil’s predatory gaze burned into your eyes, ensnaring you and refusing to let go. you were confused. why was taeil behaving like this? why was he so angry with you? but you were certain about one thing: tonight was not going to end well for you. 
with a gentle voice, you tried to calm him down so the two of you could have a rational conversation but taeil wasn’t having any of it. he grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you up to your feet, stepping away from the dining table and pulling you close till your chest brushed against his. suddenly, his steely gaze slightly softened.
“y/n, my love, I hope you know that I didn’t want to do this to you, but you left me no choice. you forced my hand.”
tears were beginning to well up in your eyes. taeil was getting frustrated. you knew exactly what he was talking about yet you were acting as though taeil was speaking in cryptic messages. taeil noticed your tears and tsked, cupping your cheeks. there was no point in you crying now. the deed was done. taeil was hoping you’d learnt your lesson so the two of you could move past this.
“don’t cry, sweetheart. at least, not until you know what I did.”
“but taeil, I don’t even know what I’ve done,” you sniffed lightly.
“darling, I love you. and I know you love me too, you don’t need to say it. but why did you have to go and date doyoung? do you know how much that hurt me?”
you shook your head, “taeil, I really didn’t know how you felt. but I’m sorry, I don’t feel the same way.”
taeil glared and tightened his grip on your jaw, “fucking lies! that dickhead doyoung has brainwashed you. oh my precious y/n, I feel so awful for punishing you the way I did, but how else will I fix you?”
“what do you mean?” you asked, afraid of the answer he was going to give you.
“those vegan meatballs, darling. although I suppose the term ‘doyoung meatballs’ would be more accurate.”
your beautiful features were twisted into a look of pure horror as realisation dawned upon you. taeil couldn’t help but let his lips form a maniacal grin. he was rather proud, even if he did say so himself. doyoung would never be a problem ever again. nor would anyone else be, for that matter. taeil knew that you were his good, obedient little y/n. you wouldn’t dare to hurt him ever again. satisfied, he leaned in and forced you into a kiss. you were too shocked to fight back.
as he pulled away, he pushed the hair out of your face.
“remember to behave yourself, darling.”
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floralseokjin · 4 years ago
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final sleigh drabble #2
❛ it’s Christmas day night...❜
original oneshot here // drabble index here
kim seokjin x reader smut  4,179 words 
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It was Christmas Day night. You’d spent most of yesterday and today at Ana’s parents’ house. It was different to how your own family celebrated the occasion but lovely, nonetheless. Her family always made you feel welcome, no matter the instance, and you were really grateful that they’d let you spend Christmas with them, like you’d already said, because your parents were spending the holiday season abroad. 
Now, just gone eight, you and Ana were getting out of an Uber outside a familiar house. Seokjin and Yoongi’s. You hadn’t seen your co-worker, since the weekend. The weekend of nonstop sex. You’d only parted because he had a train to catch, promising his mom he’d visit for a few of days before Christmas Eve. The sex had been so good it had taken him a while to remember said plans actually, and when he had, he’d unbelievably tried getting out of them just so he could stay and fuck you even more. 
“You want to ditch your mom to continue getting your dick wet?” You asked him with severe judgment, both of you naked in your bed. It was Sunday morning. Yes, that was correct. He’d stayed over practically 48 hours nailing you over and over again. And then some. 
“Don’t say it like that,” he whined, feeling instantly guilty. “I just don’t want to leave you. I’m having too much fun.” 
“We can still have fun when you get back.” You murmured suggestively, running a hand down his chest. You were not ready to give this all up quite yet… 
With a raised eyebrow, he seemed intrigued. “Even more fun than right now?” 
“We can try.” 
You hadn’t known if it was possible, the weekend had been very fun to say the least, but who knew. You’d definitely give it your all... 
You’d spent the last few days messaging each other sporadically, but there hadn’t been too much conversation. You mean, you’d never talked a lot before the sex, so why would you start after it? But seeing his face right now, as he opened the door, you practically beamed. 
“Merry Christmas, ladies,” he grinned, outstretching his arm to gesture you both to step inside. 
Admittedly, you weren’t expecting him to invite you over tonight. He’d been back since Friday but you hadn’t made plans to meet again yet so when he’d text you this afternoon, asking if you and Ana would like to come hang out with Yoongi and him, you’d been surprised. Excited, yet surprised, but obviously you’d played it cool. 
Ana had been a little reluctant. She had slept with Yoongi a couple of weeks ago after all – and hadn’t seen him since. But, obviously Seokjin had run this idea by him? They’d both decided it together, right? So it was fine. Plus, she needed to support her best friend. If she wanted you to get boned again, she needed to come! You couldn’t turn up on your own. Not that she needed much convincing after the initial unwilling... Secretly you thought she was hoping for a round two with Seokjin’s best friend... Who knew, maybe he was too... 
Ana stepped in first and as you followed Seokjin pulled out a small piece of mistletoe from behind his back. He held it up between you both, taking you by surprise. A good surprise though. “Oh,” you uttered, wasting no time in reacquainting your mouths. 
“He’s been planning this all day.” It was Yoongi’s voice, coming from somewhere ahead of you, but you both ignored him, kissing just a little longer. 
Ana scoffed. “Surely no planning was needed. It’s holding up some mistletoe.” 
“Mmm. I missed you,” Seokjin hummed, breaking away to snake an arm around your middle. 
“I missed you too,” you grinned, aware Seokjin was dialling up the amount of yuck to piss your two friends off. 
“Jesus, you guys.” Yoongi sounded like he was about to be sick. “I preferred it when she hated you.” 
Seokjin turned to the other guy, sounding vaguely annoyed. “She never hated me. It was a misunderstanding.” 
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, man,” Yoongi chuckled. “Ana, let’s leave them to it. I’ll get you a drink.” 
You watched as they walked off together, towards the kitchen. Seokjin was the first to turn back to you, an eyebrow raised. “How much do you wanna bet they end up hooking up again?”
You were both on the same wavelength. It was obvious something was going to happen. “She hogged the entire bathroom getting ready.” 
.
“Have fun, you guys,” Seokjin sang as Yoongi and Ana made a less that inconspicuous exit from the living room. It was three hours later. They’d lasted well, but obviously the need to get in on again had won. 
Seokjin turned to you immediately, sat next to you on the sofa and gave you a wolfish grin. “Finally, we’re alone.” 
You were no sooner in his lap, mouth glued to his. Moving your ass a little as you broke apart for a much needed breath, you felt the familiar impression of his erection. “You’re hard already?” You raised a judgmental eyebrow. 
“Why do you sound so shocked?” He questioned indignantly. “My dick has missed you insanely.” 
“Just your dick?” 
It was a playful remark, you didn’t mean anything by it, but Seokjin lowered his gaze, giving you a small chuckle. Instead of answering he kissed you again, his tongue pushing its way inside your mouth as his hands gripped your ass and rubbed you against his groin. Instant pleasure zapped up your body and it wasn’t long before you were grinding on your own accord, fists clutching his white t-shirt, which you had to admit, outlined his chest perfectly – You’d been trying not to stare all night. 
“Do you want to go upstairs too?” He panted against your neck, teeth nipping the flesh sharply and you bit back a moan. He was already so tuned into what you liked. “I really need to fuck you.” Pulling back to get your answer he saw the look on your face. “What’s that face for?” 
“It’s turning into a sex party,” you moaned. You couldn’t all be having sex upstairs, it seemed... You couldn’t think of the word. 
“An orgy?” Seokjin wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. 
“Behave.” You needed more people to turn it into an orgy.
Seokjin’s mouth was back on your neck, kissing down your throat, to your collarbones and he sunk his teeth into the thin skin gently, causing your breath to hitch. “Well, do you wanna fuck down here?” 
His dick was so hard underneath you, you rubbed against it some more, despite your objections. “No! What if one of them catches us?” 
“Don’t be stupid. Yoongi is definitely balls deep by now.” 
You whacked his back and he yelped in surprise. “That’s my best friend you’re talking about.” 
“I didn’t say who or what he was balls deep in.”  His reply didn’t impress you and so he grumbled. “I wish I was balls deep in you right now... Don’t give me that look, it turns me on when you’re pissy.”
Unable to stop your grin, you leaned in. “You must be constantly turned on at work then.” Pressing your lips into his, you bit down on his bottom lip. His hiss soon turned into a moan – and then a whine. 
“Let’s take this upstairs. There’s a bathroom between our bedrooms. It won’t be like our headboards are hitting the wall in rhythm.” 
“Fine.” You couldn’t hold out much longer anyway, and you both made your way upstairs, yelping loudly when Seokjin slapped your ass. You glare didn’t do much to discourage him, laughing loudly as he wrapped his arms around your middle and directed you to the door to his bedroom. 
“At least they’re being considerate and playing music,” he said, the music loud enough to block any other noise going on inside Yoongi’s bedroom... Thank God. 
“I feel like I’m back at college,” you whined as you stepped inside Seokjin’s room. 
“Huh? Did you and Ana make a habit of hooking up at the same time? Hot.” 
You pushed his arm. “No.” Chuckling, he made his way to the bed, sitting on the end, but you were too preoccupied with checking out his room. It was a lot larger than you imagined, walls cream, some covered in artwork. His computer was the main attraction, multiple screens, an unnecessarily large gaming chair and some other things you weren’t familiar with, mainly character figurines. His bed cover was a grey check pattern, a throw draped over the end with a couple of cushions against the headboard. Very clean. 
“Your room’s cute,” you commented. 
“Cute?” 
“Yeah.” Turning to look at him you smiled playfully. “So, I guess this is where you jerk your dick to fantasies of me.” 
He scoffed. “I don’t need to fantasise anymore. I have memories stored away in the wank bank.” Tapping his temple with his index finger he looked more than impressed with himself. 
“Gross!” You cried. 
“Come here,” he groaned, fed up with stalling, and he leaned over and grabbed you, causing you to squeal. “Or are you just planning on being a cocktease the whole night?” The sound wasn’t like you – but Seokjin had become good at making you act in ways you weren’t used to so far... 
Which is why you found yourself on your knees for him, sucking his dick, his jeans and underwear around his ankles. “Your mouth is fucking magic,” he grunted, head falling back, his perfect, thick neck on show as you glanced up. You felt the urge to take him deeper, pushing him closer and closer to the back of your throat, ignoring any noises of reluctance it made. 
“Fuck.” Seokjin choked, his fingers running through your hair to collect it in his fists. “That’s it. Take it all.” He pushed his hips up, stuffing your mouth for a few gloriously unbearable seconds before easing up. You lifted off, half of his dick still in your mouth as you caught your breath. He looked down at you with half-lidded eyes that seemed to eat you up. “Do you like choking on my cock?” 
Nope. He was not doing this. It was infuriating what his words did to you, and you immediately swallowed him again, ignoring the way your underwear stuck to your damp skin. He was going to have a field day when he felt you... 
Gasping for air not soon after, you had no choice but to pull off him entirely, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You were drenched in spit, so was his cock. You watched him kick off his clothing, naked from the waist down and you made moves to follow, reaching for your shirt and pulling it over your head. 
“Let me see those tits. I’ve missed them.” He murmured, and you complied, unhooking your bra to reveal yourself to him. His eyes instantly glazed over.  Confidently, you cupped the soft flesh in your palms, massaging yourself, putting on a show, and as your thumbs brushed the hardened peaks that were your nipples he practically growled. “Oh, fuck. You want to end me.” 
Laughing, you stood up, pushing your skirt off your hips, leaving you in just your tights and panties. He followed with his t-shirt, now fully naked. You’d never get enough of his body. “Come up here,” he whined. “Let me taste them.” 
Sat in his lap, you let him grope you, his mouth making out with your chest like it could kiss back. The sensation was so intense you quickly became weak at the knees and you clung to his neck, grinding against his thighs like nobody’s business. Unable to take it any longer, his hands slipped behind you, into your underwear, and he felt the silky fabric with a groan. Soon enough he was wrestling with your pantyhose again. 
“These fucking things. What the fuck. You’re doing it on purpose now.” 
“Am not,” you insisted. (Maybe you were). “I need to keep my legs warm.” With a furious tug you heard a rip and looking down you saw his damage. “Seokjin! You laddered them!” 
“Ugh. Just get them fucking off already, I need to feel you.” 
Asshole, but wet and desperate you quickly pulled then off, giving Seokjin a great view of your ass in the process. The underwear you had on had a cut-out at the top of your ass, revealing a “cleavage” of sorts. He seemed to appreciate the sight very much, giving you a playful smack and now you were very confused. Was he an ass man like you’d originally thought, or a tits guy? He was probably both. Greedy. 
You slipped the panties off too, settling back down in Seokjin’s lap, who instantly started running his fingers over your heat. You pulsed against him, desperate for some stimulation. 
“I swear to God you get wet so easily.” 
Says the guy who’d grown hard from a kiss? Okay... “Are you complaining?”
He shook his head. “Not at all. It’s stroking my ego.” 
“Your massive ego.” 
“Behave, or I won’t fuck you with my massive dick.” Okay, now he was just bragging. His smirk was annoying you. He looked way too sexy. 
You were expecting him to finger you for a bit, make sure you were stretched out enough for him, but all he did was dip his fingertips into your entrance, content with what he’d felt and then he was shuffling out from under your body to grab a condom from his bedside drawer. 
“God. I want to fuck you so much,” he muttered a few moments later, sliding the latex over his length as you securely sat on top of him again. You kissed him sloppily, letting him angle the head of his cock against your entrance. Impatiently, you pushed down, surprising yourself – and him – when you took him whole. 
You sat there, both breathing heavily as you started to adjust to him, walls clamping down like no tomorrow, which must have been torture for Seokjin, if his expression was anything to go by. 
“Shit. You got tighter,” he panted, reaching for your mouth again, trying to calm himself with kisses. You attempted to do the same, beginning to slowly grind back and forth, getting used to the full feeling. It wasn’t painful, just a little uncomfortable, but you were no longer scared of his monster cock. You’d had a fair few goes last weekend and you were now a near enough pro, so without further ado, you started moving for real. Up, until he was almost out of you and then down, slamming into him. You just about knocked the air out of Seokjin’s lungs, but he soon steeled himself, grabbing the tops of your thighs to keep you safe as you started bouncing up and down, riding his dick like it was the easiest thing in the world. In this moment, it was. 
Seokjin started groaning pretty quickly, his jaw clenched as he watched your every movement, his chest and neck patched with red. You clung to his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him as you flung yourself back. 
“Shit. Y/N!” He panicked, hands coming out to hold your lower back, afraid you were going to fall backwards off the bed. You were still sat on the edge after all, but of course he was strong enough to hold you tight, letting you lean back as far as possible to fuck yourself along his cock, the squelchy, sticky noise music to his ears. 
“Mmm. I missed this cunt so much,” he moaned. 
You wanted to tell him he was being a big baby, it had only been a few days but his vulgar words were having the desired effect on you yet again. You were like putty in his hands, especially when he started thrusting into you, meeting your movements with a thud. “I want you to cum on my dick.” 
Fuck. You were so close, his words only helping, but by now you were getting tired; out of breath and sweaty. “Seokjin—!” You moaned, voice breaking at the second syllable, and you leaned forward, collapsing into his chest. 
“Take it easy,” he murmured, hands dragging up your sweaty back. “Want me to take over?”
You grinned drunkenly. “No way, I’m enjoying myself too much.” 
Seokjin chuckled, pressing his mouth into yours. “Make yourself cum.” He whispered against you, thrusting into you still as he grabbed your ass, digging his fingers into the flesh. “You can do it, Y/N. Grind on me like you mean it. Grind all over me.” 
You listened, rutting into each one of his thrusts, holding on for dear life as your sensitive clit rubbed against his groin. You were both so sweaty and hot, your fingers sliding down his back, unable to grip on until you dug your nails into the skin. He hissed, thrusting into you harder. It seemed like Seokjin liked a little pain, too... 
“Baby, go a little faster,” he panted, kissing your neck, and you sped up, grinding into him messily, chasing your high like something possessed. You were so turned on, so sensitive, it only took a couple more minutes, a strangled cry leaving you as you tensed in his arms, your orgasm rocketing up your body.  “Ngh, fuck. Fuck.” 
Seokjin stopped his thrusts, letting you gradually come down, and soon enough your body relaxed, almost turning into goo as the pleasure warmed its way all throughout you. You lifted your head up, staring Seokjin straight in the eyes, both of you panting like crazy, and without a word he lifted you, flipping you over, your back to his mattress before he crawled over you. He wasn’t done yet – and neither were you. 
As he pushed inside you again, his hand found its way around your throat and he looked down at you carefully. “Is this okay?” 
You nodded, voice hoarse as you replied. “Yeah.” 
It wasn’t the first time he’d asked or done this – last weekend had been a lot, you still weren’t over it, and right now you were still so horny and desperate for him. You also really liked the feeling of his grip around your neck as he fucked you. 
“Fuck,” you breathed, feeling him start to thrust harder, faster, his palm tightening around your neck a little. You folded your legs at the knees and widened them, wanting him as deep as possible. 
“God, you’re so fucking hot,” he grunted, kissing your mouth in a frenzy, all tongue and teeth. His whole body was pressed into yours, pushing you into the mattress, his pelvis beginning to rub against your mound. You were still a little sensitive from your first orgasm, but you could already feel yourself a little needy for another. If he kept this up he’d have you coming again, and he knew by the way you started to meet each one of his thrusts, moans starting to slip from your throat – louder and louder. You hoped Yoongi still had his music on... 
“S-seokjin,” you stammered, hands sprawled across his back as you felt that familiar sensation again. “I’m going to–ngh–”
He moaned in reply, pushing into your harder, using his pelvis to get you off, and you held your breath, willing your orgasm to come. Your walls clenched around him, making it harder and harder for him to drag his cock inside of you, but he fought it, continuing with gritted teeth until he heard you cry out, your body stiffening under his. 
It wasn’t as strong as your last orgasm, but seemed to knock you for six, heady dizzy as you felt Seokjin kiss down your chest, slipping out of you carefully. His tongue circled one of your nipples, his hand cupping the other breast as he groaned softly. His erection bobbed against your inner thigh. 
“Coming on my cock twice. You’re amazing.” He awed, lifting his head up to smile at you. He sounded drunk. You felt drunk. 
“Well, I do try.” You joked, voice soft. 
He chuckled, and then his voice grew serious, eyes large and black, still very much turned on. “Tell me what you want, Y/N.” 
It was pretty obvious, his dick burning a hole against your leg. “Your cum.” 
His eyes widened, obviously not expecting you to be so upfront, and you took great pleasure in that. 
“Where?” He whispered. He didn’t bother to wait for your reply. “Mouth? Can I come in your mouth,” he asked. 
Your stomach dipped with urgent need, and you nodded your head rapidly. “Yeah.” 
He sat up instantly, moving to kneel over your face. He tugged the condom off, jerking himself off a couple of times before his eyes met yours. “Tongue out.” You obeyed, keeping your eyes open as the weight of his cock pressed against your tongue. “Good girl.” 
Okay, that was new. He hadn’t called you that last week, and instantly you felt your gut squeeze. You sucked the tip of his cock, eager now for him to cum in your mouth. As you did so, he started jerking himself off, eyes fluttering closed as his head lolled back, Adam’s apple bobbing slowly. His movements grew quicker, matching his breathing and then he hissed, body tensing up. 
“Fuckkk.” A couple of drops of cum landed against your tongue and you swallowed them, ready for more. You sucked him for all he was worth, your gaze never leaving his face, and even once he was done, you kept on lapping him with your tongue, digging the tip across the slit. 
He shuddered, making a strained noise and he pulled back, his cock falling out of your mouth. “Shit. I’m sensitive,” he laughed, collapsing next to you. You were both out of breath and sweaty, but wholeheartedly satisfied. 
“That’s gotta be the best yet?” You asked, grinning from ear to ear. 
“I think you may be right.” He agreed, pushing his hair out of his eyes, exposing his forehead. You wanted to reach over and kiss him, but you stopped yourself. “You were riding dick like a pornstar.” 
“Shut up,” you whined, pushing his shoulder. How embarrassing. 
Laughing at your reaction, he sat up, propping himself up with his elbow. “If you want the bathroom I have one over there.” 
You followed his thumb to a door on the right of his room. “An en suite? Very fancy.” 
Seokjin shrugged. “Yoongi has the main bathroom, so.” You didn’t move, tired more than anything, peeing could probably wait. Seokjin’s brows furrowed together. “Are you okay though?” 
“Of course,” you laughed. “I feel fricking amazing. I’ll be sad once this ends.” 
As soon as you said the words you felt funny. Seokjin looked surprised, voice low with... what was it, concern? “Who says it has to end? Do you want it to?” 
“...No,” you answered after a pause. 
Truthfully you didn’t want it to end just yet, you were enjoying yourself, you were just unsure of what was happening between the two of you... You’d  both confessed something back at the office last week but you were still uncertain what exactly it was. What had you been expecting? To fuck once and then that would be it? You liked having sex with Seokjin, it was fun, and you liked his company (most of the time). You liked him. He liked you. Maybe you didn’t need to put an expiry date on this thing. It was fine to see where it went. You didn’t need to turn it into a big deal. You didn’t need an outright answer for everything. It was fine to just live in the moment. 
“I don’t either,” Seokjin smiled, looking mildly relieved by your answer. 
“I just... when work starts back we won’t have much time to meet up like this.” 
“I’ll make time, trust me.” He kissed you then, hovering over you, lips warm and soft, a far cry from earlier, and the thought made you giggle. 
“What?” He asked bemused. 
“You know, you turn pretty demanding when you get horny.” 
He raised an eyebrow. “How so?”
“Like, bossy and all, I don’t know, domineering.” You shrugged, feeling a little awkward. “It’s hot.” 
He smiled, chuckling softly as he kissed you again, a hand cupping your face. “It’s not too much?” He murmured. 
He didn’t sound surprised by your revelation so something told you he was aware of how he acted. Which made it even hotter, to be honest. 
“I like it.” You told him, biting down on your bottom lip. 
Eyes darkening, he hummed, his gaze running down your body. “So how about I tell you to spread those gorgeous legs so I can eat dessert?” 
You repressed the urge to laugh out loud. Dessert?! He was such an idiot. “Right now?”
“Yes. Right now.” Then he paused, rubbing his nose against yours, his tone softening. “Yeah?”
With a massive grin, you spread your legs. “Be my guest.” 
A third orgasm? You weren’t going to turn that down. 
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 Written 2020 - 2021.  Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021
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deppsessed · 4 years ago
Text
Good luck charm #2
Part one here
Pairing: Johnny Depp x reader
It’s taken me a few weeks to write and be happy with this part to post. I hope that you all enjoy it and that it was worth the wait. 
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  A few days later, I swear I can still smell the musky scent of Sauvage, and the taste of cigarettes on my lips. It’s hard to comprehend any of the last seventy-two hours being real, and going by Alex’s (who I’m sitting opposite having coffee with) reaction and raised eyebrows at me retelling the whole story, she’s having a hard time with it too. And in all honesty, I don’t blame her, it’s a lot to process.
“So, he invited you to the concert after party?”
I nod my head and take a sip of my coffee. 
“Yep.”
“And he took you back to his hotel room? Where you-”
My lips curve into a smirk.
“He sure did.” 
“And you’re aware of the fact this all sounds like a badly written fanfiction?”
I have to burst out laughing. There’s no denying it because it really, really does. I couldn’t have made it up if I tried.
“Did I tell you about the part where he had to get his security to smuggle me out of the building unnoticed the next morning?”
For me, that had been the most amusing part of the story. Having breakfast with him as if it was the most normal thing in the world. After a few more spent kisses and I’d decided that it was time for us to part ways, he’d sent in his security in to make sure I got out of the building safely.
“But the real question is… Has he called or texted you?”
He hadn’t yet. The band had played a show last night, and would be travelling again for their next tomorrow. I wasn’t hanging on and waiting for him to reach out to me either. It would be pretty easy for me to pick up the phone and call him too, but I refused to be that desperate. 
I shake my head in reply to Alex’s question.
“No, but he gave me his number.”
“So, he’s waiting for you to call him then?” 
Realistically, the chances were that it was a one night thing. I wouldn’t hear from him again and we’d go our separate ways. I’d rather be hit with the reality of the situation than holding out on hope for a phone call and being disappointed when it didn’t happen. 
“I’m not going to. I don’t want him to think that I’m pining over him and completely desperate!” 
“You’re insane… You know, if he wasn’t in the slightest bit interested then he wouldn’t have given you his number to begin with.”
That was a true enough point to make, but I’m still not deluded enough to give into the fantasy. I’m ready to give her a reply when my phone, that’s been sitting on the table in front of me, starts to frantically vibrate. 
“Oh my god!” 
Alex spots the name on the screen before I’m able to take a glance. 
“He’s calling you! This really is a badly written fanfiction!” 
I shrug my shoulders and continue to let the phone ring out. If it’s important, he’ll leave a voicemail. 
“If you don’t answer that, I will!” 
I scowl at her and shake my head, it’s hard to believe that I’m the one that’s being responsible about handling all of this. Before she’s able to reach for the phone, I’m swiping it off the table and standing up. “I’m at least taking it outside.” I grumble under my breath.
“Hello?”
“Uh, hi-” The voice on the other end is raspy and familiar. I can just about see him fidgeting around like he does in interviews when he’s nervous. “It’s Johnny.”
Silence.
 I’m confused. Does he want me to make the next move?
“Right… Your name rings a bell. There was this Johnny, that the other night I went to go and see his band and ended up spending the night in his hotel room-”
I don’t even mean for the words to sound as aggressive as they do .
“I feel like I owe you a little of an explanation -- I don’t usually do this. I, uh, I don’t usually invite girls - especially fans -  back to my hotel room, and not call for three days.” 
So it’s one of those phone calls, where he’s expecting to let me down gently and feels the need to explain everything that I already know to be the case. 
“There’s no need to make a fool of yourself… I get it.” 
“I don’t think that you do.” 
What isn’t there to get? 
“I get it. I mean this is probably the part where you offer me an obscene amount of money to not go to the press about it. You don’t need to worry--”
“I can’t stop thinking about you.”
I freeze dead in my tracks, the thoughts of my overactive imagination and the words that I’m about to hit him with come to a close. Am I hearing things? Did he really just say…
“What?”
“It’s probably a really bad line. I don’t know if you heard me, I said….”
God, he’s insufferable. 
“No, I heard you… I just don’t get it.”
He has his choice of any girl in the world. Models, actresses, and here he is calling me.
“The other night was special for me-”
It’s a cliché, and just about the worst thing that he could come out with, but I’ll let him continue. 
“Listen, this probably sounds insane… but I want you here for the show tomorrow-”
He can’t be serious or that disconnected with reality. But then I remember the industry that he’s been working with the past thirty years, where he doesn’t have a nine to five job to cling onto, with a snap of his fingers he can pack his bags and travel somewhere else.
“I can fly you out, get you into the concert.”
That’s it. I can’t hold in my laughter, and I can just about see him pondering on the other end what’s so funny about his offer.
“I have a job-”
“So, call in sick?”
“It doesn’t work like that or that I don’t want to. It’s just, if I let you pay for the tickets and fly me out then that’s cheap, and I don’t want to be that person.”
There’s a long, drawn out sigh on the other end of the phone.
“Let me call you back.” I tell him, “I’ll see what I can come up with.”
---
A family emergency had been the most inventive thing that I’d been able to come up with, but it at least stopped any questions and pestering from work and friends about skipping town all of a sudden. The process of getting there had been planned to perfection, he was going to have one of the band’s security head on out to the airport and take me back to the concert venue - even if I had told him ten times how ridiculous it was and that I could get a cab, he had been insistent. 
The journey from the airport to the venue has me pondering the insanity of it all. Both in him actually wanting me here, and me going as far as to make it happen.  
The car pulls into the loading bay of the venue, where the tour buses and trucks with the band’s gear are on it. It’s when I get out of the car, that I notice him, like he’s just stepped off a photoshoot, puffing on a cigarette. I make the conscious decision to take him by surprise and sneak up on him.
“You know, those things are going to kill you one day-”
He startles, just about jumping out of his skin and choking on his cigarette in the process. 
“Too bad we’re all going to die anyway, so we might as well indulge in the bad things while we’re alive and kicking.”
“That’s a little of a morbid stance to have.”
He laughs and shrugs his shoulders, unphased, “Calling me out on my smoking and then calling me morbid might be the best ‘hello’ I’ve ever gotten.”
He flicks the cigarette to the floor before stubbing it out with his shoe. He stands there with outstretched arms, ready to welcome me, but in blind panic I go for a handshake rather than a hug.
“Hi.” 
His eyes widen, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. I can almost see his thought process of just how he’s going to redeem himself and move on from the award pause.
“Hi,” There’s a long pause. “Was your flight okay? You got here safe?”
Thankfully, the flight had only been a couple of hours long - but that was more than enough time for me to spend on a plane. There was something about being in a constricted space, thousands of feet up in the air that made me nervous. Plus, without fail, I always felt disgusting afterwards.
“Guy beside me was snoring and drooling the whole time, I felt incriminated.” 
“Should’ve taken my offer to fly you out first class.” I snort and roll my eyes at him. We’d already been over this, I’d made myself clear, I wasn’t going to be his groupie.
“Actually, without being rude, is there a place I can go and shower first? Being frisked at security and sitting on a plane kind of makes me feel gross.”
His eyebrow raises in amusement, I can almost see the cheeky comment that he’s threatening to make on the tip of his tongue, but something stops him.  “Tour bus is free at the moment. I can give you the exclusive tour, too.” 
Showering on a tour bus. Great. Exactly what I had in mind. 
“Ladies first,” He gestures with his hand for me to move in front of him. It doesn’t take a scientist to work out that the giant black RV with the band logo across it is where we’re headed..
Much to my surprise, going inside, it’s more like a luxury hotel room on wheels. It feels a better standard than my apartment back home.
“This part is the kitchen…. We don’t use it much, aside from the mini bar.” 
It doesn’t even qualify to be called a kitchen. It’s a tiny little counter space with a microwave, a coffee machine, and a mini fridge. 
“And this is where we sit and relax, talk, play guitar...” He points towards the plush leather sofas adjacent to each other. “The cool part here is that the wall slides back if you need more space.”
“Impressive.”
“These are the bunks where we bring back the groupies.” 
I’m unsure whether they look claustrophobic, like I’ve heard many complaints about, or if they look quite cozy.
“There’s a proper bedroom through there too, but Alice and Joe usually fight it out for it. I don’t mind sleeping it rougher.” He explains with a shrug of his shoulders. “Bathroom is through the back. Take as much time as you need. I’ll stand guard for you.” 
“Thank you.” I look up at him with a smile before brushing past to open the door on the back wall that extends out into the bathroom. Much to my surprise, the room isn’t all that smaller than the bathroom in my apartment back home. The shower, that I assumed was going to be a small, cramped space, is quite spacious. The only strange thing is stripping down and knowing who is standing guard by the door.
He’s in every way true to his word, too. As I turn the water off and grab a towel to wrap myself in, I can hear a disagreement going on outside between Johnny and Tommy about the bathroom being otherwise engaged.
“I’m telling you, dude, you’re just going to need to find somewhere else to go and pee… Bathroom is off limits!”
“But I can’t hold it in, man! I’m dying! You think I can use the kitchen sink?”
Johnny starts to laugh at him, “You can’t be serious!”
There’s a little more toilet talk back and forth and laughing still going on by the time I’m dressed and nudging the door open carefully.
“Um, hi, Tommy.” I greet nervously and fold my arms over my chest.
“Oh! Now I get it… You have a girl here!” 
I can feel a blush rise to my cheeks just thinking about what is no doubt going through his mind. Thankfully, Johnny comes to the rescue.
“It’s not -- it isn’t that, Tommy.” 
“Oh, I’m sure.” He gives a wink at the two of us. “I’ll leave you to it, J-man!” And just like that, Tommy is off the bus.
“I’m sorry about him.” Johnny sighs, “He says what he thinks, there’s no stopping him.” 
“It’s fine,” I brush off, acting as if I’m unbothered. But in reality, that one comment has gotten to me. I can’t help but have the niggling thought in the back of my mind, if that’s the way that Tommy is going to react, then what is the rest of the band going to be like? 
---
The concert was amazing, even better than what it had been a few nights ago. I’d watched the show from the side of the stage, and could safely say that this time, Johnny had been looking and smiling at me. 
I hadn’t wanted to face the confrontations of the band after the show, so after the encore, I had decided to hide away in Johnny’s dressing room to look at my phone for a moment of peace and quiet. If I was to exclude the fact that it was Johnny Depp’s dressing room that I was sitting in, it would have felt like the first normal moment of an otherwise bizarre day. 
The door flying open makes me look up from the screen, to see Johnny standing there, still hot and sweaty from being under the lights. 
“Everything okay?” He asks with a concerned expression, “You weren’t there when I came off stage. I was a little worried that I’d scared you off.”
I’m hardly going to tell him that I’m scared of running into the band when he’s the one that’s brought me out here to be with him. “I just didn’t want to get in the way, I thought you guys would be in a race to hit the showers.” I lie coolly. It seems to be good enough, since he goes to change the subject.
“What did you think?” He asks, a grin firmly in place on his lips. “Could you see and hear alright? The speakers weren’t too loud?” 
I grin and nod my head eagerly. “You sounded amazing! Heroes was phenomenal...” I probably sound like I’m trying to impress him, but it’s my favourite song that the band do.
“Ah, you see,” He pauses to take a drink from his water bottle. “I think I had a little bit of extra good luck, with being cheered on the side front.” 
I can feel that warm feeling of heat going up to my cheeks, and certainly not for the first time today. It makes me feel so powerless and awkward to just stand and say nothing.
“Um,” He scratches the back of his head, “You must be hungry?”
Starving, actually. I hadn’t had anything to eat since getting here and been too shy to pluck up the courage to ask about food since getting here. I’d accepted my fate and growling stomach a good few hours ago.  But regardless, I downplay it, “A little, I guess…”
“Do you want to go and grab something to eat? I need to get showered and changed first… 
I’m not certain what prospect makes me more nervous. Dinner with him. Or dinner uncomfortably sitting around all of the Hollywood Vampires eating. Both make my stomach flip. Especially since he isn’t going to specify.
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