#you'll understand what I mean by that when if you read the update
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Forget to Remember, Chapter 7 Fandom: Alan Wake (Video Games) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fictional Alex Casey/Alan Wake, Alex Casey/Alan Wake, Alan Wake & Barry Wheeler, Alan Wake & Alice Wake Additional Tags: Explicit Sexual Content, Canon Compliant, Canon Retelling, POV First Person, Romance, Horror, Angst, Drama, Humor, Friendship, Character Study, Self-Discovery, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss, Miscommunication, Canon-Typical Violence, Slow Burn, Established Relationship, Alan Wake Has 99 Problems and Dramatic Irony Is #1 Series: Part 2 of Kill Your Darlings Summary: The trip to Bright Falls was supposed to be a relaxing vacation, a chance to get out from under the collapsed remains of my writing career and to reconnect with my wife. But it was just another part of the spiral. The longest fall into dark depths. I landed into the arms of the person I least expected, the hero I had forgotten.
Alan faces a long afternoon waiting around Elderwood National Park before he can confront the kidnapper at Lovers' Peak. Time spent idling, however, leads him to have to confront the circumstances which pushed him and his wife to take a vacation in the first place.
Read Chapter 07 here on Ao3!
#alan wake 2#alan wake#alex casey#caseywake#remedy entertainment#wondrouswendy's writing#fictional alex casey#forget to remember fic#this chapter contains canon-typical heavy themes#so please read with caution#this chapter is very important despite its contents#it sets the stage for a change in the game so to speak#you'll understand what I mean by that when if you read the update#thanks again to everyone for reading and for commenting!!#I really appreciate it â€ïž
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ᥣđ© CHIVALRY FELL ON ITS SWORD
FEATURING: dazai osamu
SUMMARY: history always repeats itself. dazai is captured, you're facing enemies on all fronts, and it's only a matter of time before you hit your breaking point. you can't let things turn out the same way they did two years ago. you can'tâyou'll do whatever it takes.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: happy friday my peeps, i hope your week has been good. ive been looking forward to this chapter for sooooo long so i hope you enjoy ;) unfortunately, there will be no wykyk update this week (i mean it this time), i've fallen behind in civzai and really need to focus on it. reblogs and comments greatly appreciated as always!! ENJOY!
GENERAL WARNINGS: fem!reader, port mafia executive!reader, civilian!dazai, dazai's struggles w suicide & sh, reader partakes in mafia business, dazai isn't dazai without a bit of obsessiveness and possessiveness (the possessiveness doesn't come til later but the obsessiveness starts from day 0).
CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: hardly edited. depictions of psychological torture (commit by reader), both reader and dazai are wildly unstable, mori is a bit of a cunt LOL, a bit of legal proceedings in the beginning but i didn't want to deep dive into japanese court proceedings so i just based it mostly off us court proceedings, but again, not entirely accurate because i'm not in that field and didn't feel like doing intense research.
ANOTHER THING TO NOTE: our lovely reader IS A MAFIA EXECUTIVE !! as a port mafia executive, she does port mafia things, this will become very apparent in thIS chapter and the rest of the upcoming chapters. it might be a bit jarring to read but it is something to keep in mind. additionally, she is FLAWED. i wanted to add this warning just to give you all a bit of a heads up.
SEE: WASTELAND, BABY! SERIES MASTERLIST
â... Your Honor, I have to object to counselâs petition for bail, the defendantâŠâ
â... If I may, Your Honor, we donât even know how this footage was obtained and the prosecution has not acknowledged any of our requests to ensure that this is reliable. For all we know, this footage is edited or illegally obtained. It would be a disgrace to our justice system if we were to keep the defendant detained with no bailâŠâ
â... not only a flight risk, but weâre risking witness and evidence tampering. Respectfully, this isnât an unarmed robbery the defendant is being accused of, Your Honor, this woman is a threat to public safety, sheâs being charged with connection to the most dangerous criminal organization in the Eastern Hemisphere, and not just as any ordinary member, but as an executive. I have to insist-â
âYour Honor, the defendant shouldnât have even been brought into custody considering all current evidence might not be admissible. And the prosecution cannot sit here making baseless claims of risk when the only supporting evidence is inadmissible. I donât even understand why I have to sit here and argue this.â
âCounsel seems to think-â
âEnough. Order. Iâll sustain the ob-â
âYour Honor⊠I donât mean to interrupt but you may want to see this beforeâŠâ
âWhat is it, Hasegawa-san?â
â... I see, very well. The defenseâs petition for bail is granted. Bail will be set at one hundred and fifty million yen, bond at thirty million yen. The next hearing will be set for two weeks out, I trust that gives the prosecution enough time to prove the legitimacy of the evidenceâŠâ
âDonât look at any of the cameras.â
âNo shit,â you mutter as your attorney, Tachibana, leads you from the courthouse to where a car is waiting to pick you up.Â
There are so many flashing lights and microphones in your face that you can hardly see a few steps in front of you. So many people talking that each question melds into the next. You couldnât entertain the media even if you wanted to with them all talking over each other to shout at you. Your head hurts and the bright lights arenât helpingâyou grimace as you turn your head to the side but youâre only met with another face full of cameras and microphones.
âBack up,â a familiar voice booms and at once, the tension in your body dissipates as Iceman shoulders his way through the crowd toward you. The man sneers at a paparazzo who tries to cut him off and all but knocks him out of the way to reach forward and grab your wrist, yanking you toward him.
He ushers Tachibana forward and keeps you tucked under his arm as he guides the two of you to the black car. Itâs only when youâre inside and the door is shut behind you, that you can finally relax, but itâs only for a split second before Albatross is bursting into laughter in the front seat before youâve even sat down yourself.
âYou look ugly as hell in a prison uniform,â he wheezes, having the audacity to point at you as he turns around to look at you. âGod, I never thought this day would come. Someone take a fucking picture.â
âFuck off,â you snap at him, which only makes him laugh harder.
âThe entire world has pictures at this point,â Doc says dryly, looking over you once and frowning at the bruises on your wrists where the cuffs had been tightened too much. He clicks his tongue as he runs his finger across them as you pass by him before sighing, âThey really waited as long as they legally could for your arraignment, didnât they?âÂ
 Two whole days. You havenât eaten because you had to watch the prison guard spit in your food before passing it over to youâevidently, his brother was killed by the Port Mafia and he decided to take that out on you, which was nice. So as if you werenât dealing with enough bullshit, you havenât properly slept or eaten in two days.
More than that, youâve had no confirmation concerning Dazaiâs status in two days.Â
That alone has left you with no appetite and no desire to sleep anyway. Youâve been restless trying to figure what to do if Klaus wasnât able to get Dazai away from the Guild. That is, restless, and increasingly more violent and angry. Youâve never been someone prone to choose violence as the answer, but you think the only thing that will satisfy you now is the entire organization eviscerated. Not only have they gotten you thrown in prison, but they have Dazai.
You finally take a seat next to Chuuya. Heâs stuffed in the back corner of the limo so that no unsavory eyes could catch sight of him when Iceman ushered you and Tachibana into the car. As soon as you take a seat next to him, he wraps an arm around your shoulder and squeezes your bicep. You almost want to collapse into himâyouâre so tired and hungry and just so mentally and physically drained that all you want to do is sleep, but you know you canât, not until you have Dazai back.
Just as youâre about to look up at Klaus and ask him how things went, Piano Man speaks up, addressing Tachibana. âHow are things looking?â
The man grimaces. âNot good. They could hold her liable for all of the crimes attributed to the Port Mafia if the jury finds the footage as proof of her affiliation,â Tachibana says. âThe last time they had a Yakuza boss on trial, they had him sentenced to death and he was only being held vicariously liable for one murder and three assaults. They have her down for six and all of the other crimes theyâve been gathering as evidence against the Port Mafia just in case they were given an opportunity like this. If-â
âWhy are we talking about a jury trial?â you ask tightly, giving Tachibana a cool look from the corner of your eye. âGet the charges dropped.â
A frustrated expression crosses Tachibanaâs face. âBut-â
âNo buts, do your goddamn job and get this dismissed,â you tell him before turning your attention to Klaus. âWhatâs the situation with the journalists?âÂ
Klaus looks mighty proud of himself as he raises his chin. âTheyâre dead. Do you want to hear how I did it? It was quite ingenious if I do say so myself.â
He looks excited to tell you, eyes gleaming and smiling wide, so even though you should just drill him for information about Ui and Dazai, you decide to entertain him and nod.Â
âTell me,â you say, hoping at least hearing that those irritating pests got what they deserved is enough to ease the seemingly insatiable bloodlust the past few days has caused you before you get back to headquarters and have to deal with Ace.
Klaus is clearly trying to hold back a laugh as he prepares to tell you. From the way Atsushi looks a bit green next to him, you know whatever heâs about to tell you is going to be gross.
âTheyâre called the Ivory Eagle, right?â he says rhetorically, blue eyes dancing as he stares directly at you, waiting for you to nod again. When you do, he continues, âYou see, when I was back in Europe with the Pale Flame, we learned a lot about ancient torture and execution methods. Nabakov had the trafficked ability users fight in rings, yâknow, gladiator styleâthe winner of the fight would pick a method to punish the loser with in front of everyone. The vikings had a ritual execution method called the blood eagle, so I thought it would be funny âcause yâknow, the name? Ivory Eagle, blood eagle? They can keep their theme even in death!âÂ
âI should not be hearing this,â Tachibana sighs, covering his ears and closing his eyes.
You snort. âMay they soar to greater heights,â you mock their slogan and Klaus lets out a loud bark of laughter, bouncing in his seat in excitement.
âI knew you would get it, Iâm so funny.â he laughs, nudging Atsushi hard, but the weretiger only looks like heâs about to start crying, so Klaus looks back at you, teeth glimmering as he smiles widely.
âWhat happened with Ui?â you ask, glancing down to see Chuuya passing you a bottle of water. You give him a grateful look before redirecting your attention back to your subordinates. âAnd whereâs Akutagawa?âÂ
âThat ugly journalist confirmed they worked with the Guild to get the footage from your boyfriend,â Klaus says, and even though you knew this, it still makes you feel sick. â... I went by his apartment. It was totally trashed, there was blood on the sidewalk. Iâve spent the past two days trying to hunt down the Guild but I canât find them anywhere. I was planning on going to the Armed Detective Agency later today to get that one detective to tell me where they are. Figured they wouldnât be opposed to helping considering theyâre getting the shit end of the stick with the Guild too, I heard two of them were trapped for days in an interdimensional space before they were able to get them out.â
âAkutagawa and Kyouka-chan are out doing rounds around the city. Kyouka-chan found one of the lower-ranked Guild members wandering around the city, sheâs hoping that sheâll lead her back to their base,â Atsushi adds, answering your second question.
You let out a heavy sigh, looking down at your lap. Apartment trashed. Blood. The water you had just sipped threatens to come back up, you feel Chuuya squeeze your bicep again to try to comfort you, but you donât care for comfort, you only want Dazai. You want him back in your apartment, back in your arms, you want him safe, you want him.
You want him.
âWeâll get him,â Chuuya promises like he can hear your thoughts. You suppose itâs probably written all over your face. âIâll do whatever it takes, okay? I wonât let the fucking Guild take him from you.â
Heâs spent two days with them. God knows what theyâve done to him to try to get information about youâthe thought makes your skin crawl, your chest weighs with guilt. You brought him into this life knowing this risk and you still couldnât protect him. You need to do something, you need to-
âChuuya,â you say quietly, âcan I borrow your phone?âÂ
Chuuyaâs brows furrow but he nods, passing his phone over to you. You ignore the way your fingers tremble as you type in a familiar number and press the phone to your ear, you wait a few anxious seconds for the person on the other line to pick up.
âHello?â
âLeo,â you breathe out. âAre you still in New York?â
âYouâre okay,â Leo Tolstoy sighs, the relief in his voice palpable. âI saw the news. I figured they wouldnât be able to keep you locked up long. Iâm still here, yeah, I have a flight to Tokyo in an hour. I just had to finish up-â
âCancel it,â you say immediately, fingers digging into the thin pants youâre wearing. âI need to call in a favor.â
âHit me with it,â he tells you. âYou know Iâd do anything for you.â
Good, you think, lips curving up as you tell Tolstoy your plan.Â
Thereâs only one way to force Fitzgerald into giving you Dazai back, and youâre willing to go to any lengths to do it.
âYouâre awake,â an unfamiliar voice notes just as Dazai starts stirring awake. âGood.â
Heâs been in and out of consciousness for two days nowâawake for a few hours, asleep for double that. He almost wishes that the blow to the head had killed him, because each time he wakes up, heâs questioned sharply about you and heâs tired of it. The first two days of captivity, when Dazai was awake, he spent most of his time staring at the ceiling, your words ringing through his head and your twisted expression plain as day. Heâs recounted every word of his conversation with you before he fled, heâs noted every place where he messed up and could have done something different to avoid this, heâs felt so numb that he would almost prefer pain and heâs felt so much regret that it did physically pain him.
Now, heâs just irritated.Â
Irritated and tired and hungry and most of all, he misses you. Misses you so much that youâre the only thing he can think of clearly. Misses you so much that it makes him sick. Misses you so much that heâs started casting up prayers to gods he doesnât believe him because he just wants the chance to see your face again.
Thus far, heâs been able to evade answering any questions, but he has a feeling itâs only a matter of time before they start taking more extreme measures to get the information out of him, and Dazai has never been one to deal well with pain. He doubts heâll be able to get away with lying to throw them off trail for long.
âNope,â he says tiredly, rolling over onto his side to turn his back on the man. âStill sleeping, unfortunately.â
Dazai doesnât know who this one is.Â
Heâs gotten used to the other two over the past forty-eight hoursâthe redhead is called Mark Twain, a high-ranking member of the Guild whose preferred form of torture is casual conversation. Itâs predictable and Dazai, naturally, doesnât fall for it, but it doesnât stop him from trying. He comes into the cell with food and water that Dazai refuses to touch and talks to Dazai from the moment he wakes up to the moment he passes back out. He asks about you and the Port Mafia without actually asking about you and the Port Mafia, talks about his own woman back home and bitches about his work with the Guild, seeing if Dazai will chime in with his own commentary and grievances.
Dazai doesnât, of courseâthereâs not much he can say about the Port Mafia anyway, the things youâd talked about with him are irrelevant at this point, and Dazai certainly is not going to tell Twain anything about you. He knows that the Guild must be looking for information on your ability and Dazai will be damned if he lets anything about it slip. The most heâll make is snide comments, hoping to piss Twain off enough to leave, but then he has to deal with the other man, James, who is far less pleasant to deal with. Dazai can hardly stand the sight of him and he isnât sure if itâs because 1) heâs just unappealing to look at, 2) his head injury, or 3) he still has a grudge over the head injury.Â
He thinks maybe it might be all of the above.Â
Regardless, the voice of the new arrival is neither Twainâs nor Jamesâs, which means he has a new yet equally undesired visitor. Dazai, naturally, is wary of the unknown. Heâd overheard Twain and James talking about Francis getting involved and he remembers that you mentioned the leader of the Guildâs name is Francis Fitzgerald. He has a distinct suspicion that this must be him and Dazaiâs only thought is that this definitely doesnât bode well for him.
âMister Dazai, please, you need not make this difficult on yourself,â Fitzgerald sighs. âWe already have all of the information we need anyway. We want to help you.â
What.
Dazaiâs cautious now as he sits up to face Fitzgerald, mind racing as he tries to figure out what exactly he means by âwe have all of the information we need.â Dazai has been so careful not to let anything slipâeven when he was half delirious from his head wound, he bit his tongue. He didnât utter a single thing until he was certain that his brain was functioning well enough for him to carefully choose each word he spoke.Â
Thereâs no way that they managed to get anything from what heâd said.
The blonde man sitting on the opposite side of the room is dressed in a fancy suit and wears a watch that probably costs more than anything Dazai has ever owned in his life. He looks unusually earnest as he leans forward, elbows on his knees as observes Dazai. Dazai thinks that heâs decently good at reading people, and he canât find a hint of deception in Fitzgeraldâs face, which leaves Dazai feeling distinctly unnerved, unable to predict whatâs about to happen to him.
âI find that hard to believe when your subordinate bashed my head in two days ago,â Dazai replies, keeping his voice light but watching Fitzgerald carefully.Â
âMy friend, Henry, is quite excitable,â Fitzgerald sighs, faux-remorse dripping from his tone. âI apologize for him, I was very clear that you werenât to be injured.â
That doesnât really help Dazai at all. He needs to figure out how exactly heâs going to press Fitzgerald and figure out what he learned from Dazai. Luckily, he doesnât have to say much at all because Fitzgerald takes it upon himself to continue talking.
âThere were some pieces of information I kept to myself during our endeavor here in Yokohama,â Fitzgerald says. âThere are too many⊠rats scuttering around the sewers. Itâs hard to tell whoâs listening at any given time. Everyone has their own agendas, and thereâs just some information thatâs too valuable to risk falling into anyoneâs hands but your own. Even supposed alliesâ.â
Rats. Allies. Agendas. Dazaiâs mind races as he notes it all down to tell you as soon as you get him out of here. He doesnât respond to Fitzgeraldâs words, waiting for him to make the mistake of continuing his little monologue so he can have more information to report back to you. From what heâs able to piece together, thereâs more than just Fitzgerald and the Guild at work here, but you havenât mentioned any other organizations besides them, which makes him antsy because if you donât know that this is multiple organizations working together against the Port MafiaâŠÂ
You could be in danger.
âI was already made aware of her ability,â Fitzgerald says, watching Dazai for a reaction. Heâs careful not to give one, but his words make Dazaiâs skin crawl. Youâd said that your ability was the most well-guarded secret in the Port Mafia. That only the upper echelon was aware of it.Â
So how?
The traitor.
Dazaiâs throat swells and itâs much harder to keep his distressed emotions off of his face when he remembers the tip-off that Professor Ui had received about a situation happening at the ports on Shinko, remembers that he alluded to someone within the Port Mafiaâs inner circle being the informant, remembers that in his meltdown, he never even told you.
Shit.
âHenry, he is also an ability user,â Fitzgerald continues. Dazai is grateful that he seemingly doesnât notice his increasing panic. âWhat Maisie Knew, an ability that notifies him when somebody around him is lying. My intention in bringing you here was not to interrogate you, but to find out if you knew the extent of the manipulation happening around you.â
Dazai blinks slowly, letting the words process through his head. An ability that notifies him when somebody around him is lying⊠but would that even work on Dazai? You tried to use your ability on him with and without touch and it didnât affect him, so this one shouldnât either. And if he wasnât notifying him when Dazai was lying about knowing nothing about your abilityâŠÂ
âHenry told me that you were telling the truth when they asked you about your knowledge of her ability,â Fitzgerald says, and Dazai almost hates the pity thinly veiled behind the manâs eyes. He doesnât like anyone thinking that he doesnât know something about you, but he lets this slide because it might just work in his favor. âHer ability is a form of mental manipulation. She influences the emotions of people around her to trust and adore her. What you felt for that girl was nothing more than what she wanted you to feelâsheâs spent months shaping your mind to make you believe you care for her so that in a situation like this, you would choose to protect her even at the cost of your own life.â
The surprise that shifts across Dazaiâs face is genuineânot because of the revelation of your ability like Fitzgerald believesâbut because Fitzgerald does know your ability, and he knows it in an alarming amount of detail. He wishes he had some way of contacting you now, but he needs to focus now on figuring out how heâs going to play this.
They didnât kidnap him to interrogate him. They kidnapped him to try to make him willingly turn against you by revealing all of your âmanipulationsâ in an effort to rattle you into making a mistake. A decent plan, honestly, and if Dazai were anyone but Dazai, it mightâve worked⊠but Dazai is Dazaiâheâs never been affected by your ability, or Fitzgeraldâs subordinateâs, or any ability for that matter, and he would rather die than turn against you.
But⊠would it be better to make Fitzgerald think that he has turned against you? It would be safer for him, surely. If the man thought Dazai was swayed to his side, he might even have a chance to escape⊠but it could also throw you off if Fitzgerald tells you, and Dazai isnât sure if he wants to risk that considering thereâs apparently other allies of the Guild that you donât know about. You would see through it eventually, but in those few moments that you didnâtâŠ
Any mistake now could be fatal.Â
âSheâs in federal custody right now,â Fitzgerald says.Â
Dazai almost feels dizzy, hands falling from his lap to the bed to dig his nails into the sheets to steady himself. He knew thisâhe knew it in his heart when Twain mentioned the flash drive and pointed out the sirens but Dazai had still had hope that you managed to evade arrest, that you wouldnât have been dragged down by his mistakes.
Fitzgerald is still talking and Dazai knows that he should be listening, but instead his mind racing, thoughts so quick and jumbled that he can hardly get them straight. If youâre in federal custody right now, the last thing you needed was to get out and hear news of Dazai turning against you. Youâd be worn thin, stressed, alone. You donât think clearly when youâre under a ton of stress, especially when people you love are at risk. You try to, but when it gets too much, you shut down like you did at the beach house and you canât shut down with the Guild at your door and god knows what other enemies lurking in the shadow, preparing to strike.
If youâre in federal custody, then the chances that youâll see through this is even lower because youâll already not be thinking clearly. Thereâs a much higher chance that you donât see through it, that you think the Guild tortured him until his mind broke and he turned against you. And considering your past with Nakahara Chuuya and his lover, it might be the only logical conclusion your brain comes to.
He canât risk it. Itâll put you in dangerâheâs done enough of that lately, but this time, your life really would be on the line.
Instead, heâll put his on it.Â
âNo,â Dazai says suddenly, cutting Fitzgerald off mid sentence. The blonde looks at him curiously waiting for him to continue. âNo. I donât believe youâabout her, about using her ability on me. I donât believe any of it. Get out.â
Dazai doesnât know how long heâll be able to pretend to be blind with loveâmaybe he can convince Fitzgerald that heâs still under the effects of your ability, that might buy him a few days, but it wonât last forever. He doubts that the Guild will kill him if they want him to turn against you to batter you down, and they want him to do it willingly, so theyâll probably spend a few more days trying to convince him before they resort to making him turn on you through force.Â
You just need to get to him before that happens.
Fitzgerald doesnât look surprised by Dazaiâs words, but he does look disappointed. He braces himself for the man to press the issue, but to Dazaiâs relief, Fitzgerald stands to leave. Dazai needs time to think, time to formulate how exactly is the best way to go about this to buy as much time as possible.
âI figured that would be the case, months under an ability like that takes more than a few days of separation to be free of,â Fitzgerald tells him before he leaves. âThink on it, you could be very useful to our cause⊠and we could be useful to you too. Iâll be back for an answer.â
âDonât come back anytime soon,â Dazai replies snidely as the door closes, pulling the blanket tighter around him and resting his head against the wall.
As soon as the door is closed, a heavy feeling settles over his chest and Dazai feels so alone that it makes him sick. Heâs become so used to your presence in his life that every moment without you feels like his chest is being hollowed out. The room heâs in is cold and uncomfortable compared to the warmth of your apartment. He wants to be curled up in your bed, surrounded by your scent, wants to be watching some lame movie or forcing you to watch him play an even lamer video game.Â
He misses you desperately, and his nails bite into the fabric of the blankets as he tries to ground himself, losing himself in the thoughts of you, praying that you come for him soon.
âAh! Our resident convict has finally decided to grace us with her presence.â
âOh, Ace, itâs impressive, truly, how everyday you manage to become more stupid than the last. You must not have any brain cells left in that empty skull of yours⊠Youâre not much unlike a protozoa honestly, â Piano Man sighs whimsically. When Aceâs face twists in confusion, Piano Man gives him a sweet smile. âThatâs a single-celled organism. Basic biology, I fear, thank you for proving my point so quickly.â
âShe hasnât been convicted, you dumb fuck,â Chuuya snaps. âAnd you sound way too pleased over the matter, should probably choose your tone more carefully considering it was you and your subordinate who got her arrested. Sounds a bit like, I donât know, treason. Did you betray the Port Mafia, Ace?âÂ
Wow, you think, they came in hotter than you expected.
You donât even bother to address Ace as you make your way to your place at Moriâs right side, taking a seat in the chair left empty for you. You donât look at him until youâve taken your seat, but even then he gives you no cues, violet eyes watching you listlessly as he waits for you to say something.
Once the circular table is fully seated, your gaze finally flits to Ace.
âGo on,â you say. âAnswer Chuuyaâs question.â
Aceâs face twists at your words. âThatâs a ridiculous accusation,â he says, raising his chin. âThat-â
âIs it?â you interrupt coolly. âYou pride yourself on the use of your collars and their ability to control your subordinates. Either your collars are not quite as effective as youâve so ardently claimed them to be or youâve betrayed the Port Mafia. Which is it, Ace? Both will have consequences, naturally, one will just be more⊠final than the other.â
Unless thereâs some otherworldly interference, Ace is going to die today.
Heâs the reason you were arrested. His subordinates are notoriously fearful of him and his ability to kill them with just a passing thought once he has the collar around their necks. The chance of one of them acting on their own to try to kill you is slim to none. And you know that he knows you know he did it just from the amusement thinly veiled behind the outraged expression on his face.
Heâs too smug.
Somethingâs not right.
âUnfortunately, it seems as if my efforts to deter disobedience have gone ineffective concerning one of my subordinates.â Ace waves his hand, lavender eyes meeting yours pointedly as he speaks his next words: âNo need to fret, Iâve dealt with him accordingly.â
That⊠was not anticipated. Youâre careful not to react to his words, gauging the reactions of the others in the room trying to figure out if this was something they all talked about while you were being held by the government, but Piano Man and Chuuya look just as appalled, even Kouyou hides her pursed lips behind her fan as she gives Mori a careful look.
Mori does not look surprised as the rest of his executives.
What did you do?
Chuuya is the first to speak, voice low, âYouâve what?â
âA betrayal of this magnitude is not something for an executive to handle alone,â Piano Man says, the airy tone of his long gone as he stares at Ace. âEspecially the executive in charge of said traitor. You acted out of lineâthis shouldâve been brought in front of us all before any action was taken.â
âOut of line?â Aceâs voice becomes more mocking now, clearly enjoying knowing something that Piano Man doesnât after the snide comment. âNot at all, I acted on orders of the Boss.â
At once, the conference room goes quiet. You see Chuuya and Piano Man turn to look at Mori for the corner of your eye, but you keep your gaze trained on Ace instead and he keeps his on yours. He looks entirely too pleased with himself, eyes cool and taunting, the corner of his lips turned up just enough to be noticeable.
âItâs true.â
Mori offers no explanationâhe doesnât need to, heâs the Boss, but you know thereâs something else going on here. He never liked Ace, spoke poorly of the manâs easily bought loyalties and undue arrogance. Only gave him the executive position for financial purposes after the Dragonâs Head Conflict left Yokohama in shambles. Let him stay because his arrogance makes him easily manipulated but always keeps him at armâs length, ready to cut off at the first whiff of betrayal.
And now heâs what? Scheming with the man heâs despised for years against you? Is it punishment for everything that has happened with the two Yakuza syndicates and the Guild? Punishment for Dazai?Â
You canât understand it, you canât.
You look at Mori from the corner of your eye, blood running hot and only barely able to keep the fury off of your face.
What are you planning?
Moriâs lips curve up as if he can hear your thoughts, eyes flickering with amusement as he looks at you.
Youâll find out, little hime.
âWhat is Tachibana-kunâs opinion on the indictment?â Mori asks instead, leaning back in his seat and folding his hands over the table as he looks at you.
âHeâs going to get the charges dropped,â you reply flatly, nails biting into the slacks youâd changed into before coming to the meeting, suddenly feeling far too cornered as you realize you have enemies around every cornerâeven within your own home. âThis will be over within two weeks.â
âHm.â Mori sounds more entertained than anything as he tilts his head to the side and studies you. âAnd the Guild? How do you plan to handle them, little hime? More importantly, that boy youâd been silly enough to allow the information that led to your imprisonment⊠I trust heâll be properly handled?â
Putting you on blast in front of all of the executives⊠Kouyou is watching you carefully, Chuuya is stiff, Piano Man tense, and Ace, of course, is mildly amused. You feel like a circus monkey performing for the lot of them and you know itâs exactly what Mori wanted.
Youâre sure not to let your irritation slip onto your face as you smile thinly and reply with: âThe Guild will be taken care of by the end of the week. I fear that the boy is not the issue in this situation, Ace would be more suited to answer any questions regarding my imprisonment. Isnât that right?âÂ
Aceâs smile tightens. âNot at all,â he says coldly. âWhat are you implying?â
âThat it was your subordinate that had dealings with the Guild, of course,â you say with a sweet smile. âWhat else would I be implying?âÂ
âRight.â
âI mean, I do trust that you managed to get information out of him before killing him, right? Weâve all been trained to do that,â you add, raising your eyebrows and tilting your head to the side. âYou did get the information, didnât you?â
âI would like to know how you plan to handle the Guild considering youâve failed spectacularly up to this point,â Mori intervenes, preventing you from questioning Ace about the âsubordinateâ that âbetrayed the Port Mafiaâ.Â
You give him a heavy side-eye, wondering what game heâs playing and why heâs protecting Ace of all peopleâhe must have some plan in the works that involves the man, but what? What could he possibly be using Ace for thatâs so important that it makes the cost of keeping a rat in his inner circle trivial? Youâve always struggled to understand the way Moriâs mind works, but never more than now.
You decide to be plain with your accusations now. Youâre tired of playing coy; although youâre stuck in limbo now as you wait for Tolstoy to come through with the favor youâve asked of him, you still feel like you could be doing more productive things to try to figure out how youâll actually approach Fitzgerald to get Dazai back.Â
âI donât feel comfortable divulging that information in this setting,â you say simply, watching as Kouyouâs eyes widen just a bit, Chuuya and Piano Man share a look, and Ace stiffens as he prepares for a scathing comment, but a motion from Mori has them settling down. âRegardless, I think there are more important issues to discuss. Namely, the setbacks we now have to deal with on the political front because of my indictment. I can reach out to the politicians that Iâm close enough with that the accusations wonât sway them, but I worry that we mightâve lost a lot of key swing votes in the upcoming bill going through the Diet.â
âWe canât let that bill pass,â Chuuya says tightly.Â
Kouyou sighs airly as she fans her face. âI can reach out to my connections,â she offers. âI assume Lippmann will have significant influence as well. Between the two of us, we can hopefully compensate for the losses. Do you think the indictment will prevent you from ever returning to handle political affairs?â
You purse your lips. âI doubt Iâll be back at any government events anytime soon, but Iâll be able to get work done from behind the scenes. Itâll be harder, but not impossible.â
Kouyou hums as she nods, glancing back at Mori. âIf this is all, I had a prior commitment with our friends in Tokyo⊠It would be best for me to not miss it considering the circumstances.â
âI also have business to handle,â you say, gaze cutting back to Mori. âIf necessary, I can meet with you later to tell you about how I plan to handle the Guild.â
âItâs not necessary,â Mori says lightly. âYouâre dismissed, I promised Elise-chan tea time anyway. I expect results this time, little hime⊠Successful ones.â
Your lips tighten. âOf course,â you reply tensely. âI hope by the time of our next meeting, the rat infestation will be handled. Iâve seen a few too many since Iâve been back at headquarters today, itâs unsightly.â
Ace bristles and looks to Mori like a child seeking their parentsâ support. How ironic, you think bitterly, but you donât give anyone time to respond to your words as you rise to your feet and leave the room, intent on getting back to your apartment as quickly as possible. You donât even wait for Chuuya or Piano Man as you get into the elevator and press the button to close the doors as quickly as possible.
Your gaze is pinned on the cityscape as the elevator begins to go down to the first floor. The sun has crossed its point in the peak of the skyâitâs still midday, itâs been sixty-six hours since you were taken into custody, likely just as long as Dazaiâs been captured by the Guild
Sixty-six hours.
The Guild is not an organization that usually stoops to torture. Of all of the organizations in the worldâs shadows, the Guild is probably the one closest to the lightâthey take advantage of it by forcing its members into the public spotlight. Itâs why theyâve done so well in Yokohama so far; theyâve used their political presence to force countries into giving them diplomatic immunity, essentially making them untouchable.Â
Youâre sure they have some degree of blood on their hands, everyone in this world does, but torturing a civilian of a foreign country would be a bold moveâif it got out, and you would make sure it did, it would ruin their station⊠But then again, would they even care?
Fitzgerald was so desperate to get his hands on Atsushi for whatever reasonâthe bounty and now this⊠There might not be any length he wouldnât be willing to go to in order to get his hands on the boy. And Dazai⊠he wouldnât give up the information, you know it in your heart. You wish that he would if only so he could protect himself, youâd be able to pivot and readjust your plans, but he wonât, especially not after his spiels about being a burden and wanting to help.
What an idiot, you think desperately, ignoring the way your eyes suddenly sting as you make your way out of the main headquarters to head over to your own building. Youâre not even fully processing everything thatâs happening around youâyou ignore the subordinates that greet you, donât even hear Albatross calling your name, and when you get to your building, you donât even notice the doorman sitting at the desk in your building.Â
Itâs not until you get back up to your apartment that youâre finally able to break down.
Physically and mentally drained from two days in custody and now Moriâs schemes, it only takes the sight of Dazaiâs sweater tossed on the back of your couch and his backpack lying haphazardly on the ground next to it for you to crumble. You donât even make it to the couchâyour knees give in as soon as your fingers brush the soft material of his sweater. You hit the ground hard, back pressed to the back of the couch as you pull the sweater down to your knees and you cry.
It still smells like himâwell, a mixture of you and him since heâs started using your bath soapsâand you miss him so bad that it makes your chest cave in. You muffle the ragged gasp you take in with the sweater and curl in on yourself; you miss him, you miss him so bad that itâs painful, so bad that regret weighs on you like the burden of the sky, so bad that you think you might die. Youâve felt pain like this before when Itou died, but Itouâs death had not been entirely in your control, not like how this was.Â
You let this happen. The moment you let him into your life, you damned him.
Youâve been teetering on the edge of collapse for days, only sheer willpower and the thin shred of pride you had left prevented you from falling apart during your time in prison, but now thereâs nothing left to keep you together. Any remaining willpower was obliterated the moment you walked into your apartment and saw his sweater and backpack exactly where he left them before fleeing because of your words; any remaining pride was destroyed by Mori and his schemes refusing you at least some semblance of justice for your own imprisonment.Â
Now alone, faced with only the consequences of your own decisions as company, youâre forced to acknowledge the bitter truth: you may never see Dazai again.
You may have gotten him killed.
He may already be deadâspent his last moments alone and in pain, wondering if you were ever going to show up.
You try to convince yourself that Fitzgerald wonât kill him before trying to use him as a bargaining chip over you, but the thoughts are only shallow consolations because you canât push away the image thatâs been haunting you since the day you met him. His body cold and rotting after having been abandoned in one of the dumping grounds the underworld uses as a mass grave, forgotten and nameless, left for the rate to devour. You knew this would happen from the beginning, but you still allowed it.
Youâve never prayed before.Â
Youâve long believed that if there was a god out there, it was a cruel one who took delight in suffering because what other god would allow people to suffer the way you have?Â
What god would allow an eight year old girl to sit amongst corpses for hours only to be saved by a man who would drag her down a path so dark that her blood would rot black and her soul would be so far beyond salvation before she was even old enough to attend secondary school?Â
What god would show someone love only to rip it away before his very eyes in the most brutal way possible?Â
What god would dangle the âwhat ifsâ right in front of your face just to taunt you knowing that the moment you let yourself indulge them, you would be reminded exactly why they shouldâve remained âwhat ifsâ?
Youâve never prayed before, but now, you find yourself crying to any that might listen to you because you donât know what else to do. Thereâs no guarantee that your plan will work and you canât give Fitzgerald what he wants, you canât. So instead, you cry, you beg, you plead, you bargain. You donât know what divine being might be out there, but for the first time in your life, you hope that there is one, because youâve never saved a single person in your life. You got Itou killed, you got Chuuyaâs lover killed, countless men on the warfront who were banking on your ability fix their minds, at this point, youâre sure that even the loss of your family and village was somehow blood on your handsâeverywhere youâve been, ruin and death have followed you, and this will be no different.
You wonât be able to save him, just like youâve never been able to save anyone else before. Your only hope lies in the hands of the very beings that have designed this moment and every other misfortune of yours before this. Itâs a sick joke, you think, but still, you pray. You cry, and beg, and plead, and bargain. You ask them to bring him back to you, you tell them that heâs good and that he never belonged in this life; you promise that if they bring him back to you, youâll do what you shouldâve done from the very beginning.Â
You swear it.
You donât know how long you stay on your floor with his sweater pressed to your chestâcould have been minutes or hours, you donât even hear the elevator arriving at your floor, donât notice someone is in the room with you until you feel fingers brush your shoulder. You stiffen and futilely try to dry your eyes, lifting your gaze to figure out who had entered your apartment without calling up first. Thereâs only a handful of people it might be and-
And for just a split second, you think that it might be Dazai.
Itâs not, of course, your eyes meet the familiar ones of Klausâs, the expression he wears is full of guilt, regretful, and just as your lips part to ask him what he wants, he whispers: âIâm sorry I couldnât find him. I really did try.â
Youâve only seen Klaus cry twice before. Once, two weeks after you took him in when he realized he was finally free of the fighting rings heâd been forced to compete in since his ability manifested. And a second time after he failed his first mission, tossed back into a memory that had him curling on the ground begging you not to send him back. Now, he doesnât cry, but his throat spasms and his eyes shine with unshed tears.Â
âI know you did, Klaus,â you say, voice too raspy for your liking
â... I left him alive,â Klaus tells you after a few moments. Before you can ask what heâs talking about, he continues, âUi. I thought you might want to be the one to deal with him.â
At once, any exhaustion that mightâve been plaguing you disappears, the ice that spreads through your veins promises only one thing.
âBring me to him.â
âIt has been two days since little miss princess was released from prison, howâs that make you feel?âÂ
Dazai stares blankly at Twain, who looks far too pleased as he tilts his chair back and watches him for a reaction. Dazai wishes that he was closer so that he could kick the chair back and watch him go sprawling, but even if he was closer, his body feels rooted to the bed heâs sitting on. Dazai has alway had a quick brain, but now itâs slow as Twainâs words echo through his head on repeat and he starts to understand the implications of them, unable to accept them as truth.
âGuess she doesnât care about you as much as ya thought she did.â Twain shrugs like it's all some big joke, grin crooked. âHasnât even bothered to reach out to ask us about you. Port Mafiaâs been active too, guess she just has more important things to deal with than some kid she played around with for a few months. Francis seems more bothered by it than I thought he would. I think he really thought sheâd really fight for youâfor your sake.â
Dazai doesnât respond, gaze sliding from Twain to stare at the wall in front of him. Itâs been a long four days in Guild custody. Heâs hardly had a moment to himself, and heâs been careful to keep up the act of the lovesick fool who refuses to see things as they âare,â but heâs tired and lonely and he misses you. Itâs all wearing him out.Â
He can keep up the actâif it means protecting you, he could do this foreverâheâs put on masks and fronts for people his whole life, this is nothing compared to all of that⊠itâs just that itâs harder when heâs had a taste of life with someone who he doesnât need to put up masks for. Itâs harder when he wants nothing more than to just be back in your apartment, basking in your presence. It makes him dizzy with longing and it makes him careless.Â
And⊠he thinks Twainâs words are hitting him a lot harder than they should be.Â
âIâm not all too surprised though,â Twain continues absently, waving his hands around. âYouâre not anything special, and I heard her boy Tolstoyâs back in town. She doesnât need you to entertain her anymore now that heâs around.â
For a second, Dazai can see the dams cracking. All of the pent up emotions that have been building the past few days batter the splintering walls holding them back, and Dazai can only barely bring himself to try to reinforce them because nowâs not the time for this. But every time he manages to fortify one section of the crumbling dam, another starts to collapse.Â
It canât be true. It canât beâDazai knows this, in his heart, he knows itâwhat you had with him⊠it was special. It was. (Wasnât it?) The way you looked at him, no one could look at someone that way and not mean it. No one could speak the words you did and not mean them. There must be something else going on, you must be planning somethingâyouâre not going to rush headfirst into a trap, not when it could end with Dazaiâs life in danger and especially not with your past with the Serpentâs Tongue, butâŠ
⊠but Twainâs mention of Tolstoy rattles Dazai badly. Youâve talked about Tolstoy before to him, and it was always with a certain fondness that made Dazai uneasy, and for a second, Dazai thinks it might be possible that you could just be cutting your losses with him and moving on. Because Twain is right, Dazai is nothing special, and itâs not like the two of you ended off on a good note before his captureâyou were mad at him, he was cruel to you, he blamed you for all of this even though he forced it onto you.Â
Dazai wouldnât even really be able to blame you for not coming for him after that; for months, heâs been forcing your hand but when he felt backed into a corner, he threw it all in your face.Â
Not even to mention that it might not even be as simple as you coming to save Dazaiâthere were other factors at play too, the Port Mafia being the biggest. Youâre an executive, you canât just throw everything away to come rescue him when he got himself into this situation after you explicitly warned him that this would happen.Â
If you had to choose between him and the Mafia⊠could he really be certain that you would choose him in that scenario? He wants to say yes, he does, but the word feels weighted and bitter on his tongue, like he knows itâs not quite so cut and dry.
Realistically, you might not come for him. Even if Twain is wrong and itâs not a matter of whether you care about him enough to come for him, there are too many variables that could prevent you from coming for him⊠but Twain might not be wrong.Â
âMark,â Fitzgeraldâs familiar voice chides as the man steps into the room Dazai is staying in. He doesnât even hear the sigh and comment that Twain lets out before leaving because heâs too lost in his own thoughts.
Dazai has never felt so entirely out of control of a situation like this beforeâheâs always been so careful and meticulous in his interactions with people and his surroundings because he likes being able to predict how people will act around him, it makes it easier for him to figure out how he should act. Heâs even had a good hold on himself, learned how to school his emotions and convert ones he doesnât like into ones that are easier for him to manage. But everything about this has just been so impossible for him to get a handle on, heâs tried in every way that he could, but the realization of the fact that you might not be coming for him is sending him over the edgeÂ
âI wanted to break the news to you myself,â Fitzgerald says and Dazai feels bitter and angry about the sympathy in his voice, wants to spit at him. He doesnât need anyoneâs pity, much less his, but he only finds himself staring listlessly at the man instead. âI waited a few days to see if she would reach out, but she never did⊠Iâm afraid I canât keep waiting anymore, I need to move on with the next stage of my plan.â
This is it, Dazai thinks distantlyânow is when theyâll finally switch from persuasion to force. He thought he would have a bit longer to figure out how he would proceed and now he canât even get himself thinking straight to try to figure out how to evade this. His thoughts are scattered and distant and so many different and unfamiliar emotions are battering him from every angle; he can hardly pay attention as the man across from him speaks.Â
âI want you to cooperate willingly,â the Guild leader continues, but his words are going in one ear out the other. â... donât have to worry about them targeting you for betrayal. We have enough resources to shield you from the Port Mafia. Additionally-â
âNo,â Dazai says quietlyâthe refusal slips out before he can even process it.
Fitzgerald pauses. âNo?âÂ
âNo,â he reiterates, voice more strained, the words tumbling from his lips. âNo, I donât need your protection. Iâm not going to cooperate. I wonât betray herânot for anyone, but especially not you. Sheâll come. I know it.â
Something changes in Fitzgeraldâs expression at Dazaiâs words; it becomes twisted for just a second, but then it softens, his lips curl up into a faint smile. One thatâs almost fond, but Dazai canât understand why for the life of him.Â
âI see, so even knowing all of this and realizing that she might not be coming for you, you still choose to stand at her side,â he murmurs. He doesnât try to persuade Dazai like he thought he would. âThere are not many who are able to see the worst of someone and still make that choice⊠Iâve only met one other⊠You remind me much of her.â
âShe chooses me too,â Dazai says. He thinks, for a second, that heâs only saying it to scare Fitzgerald into realizing that youâll come for him, but as soon as the words leave his lips, he knows that itâs true. That he believes it. He believes youâll choose him, he believes youâll come for him no matter what the cost might be. Even after everything that happened the other day, even knowing that youâve been free for days and havenât made any moves to rescue him yet, his faith in you hasnât wavered. âSheâll come for me, and youâll regret this.â
Fitzgerald exhales as he rises to his feet, gaze lingering on Dazai for just a moment before he tells him, âFor your sake, I hope your faith is not misplaced.â
âThe human psyche is unbearably fragile. Itâs one of the first conclusions I came to during my studies,â you say absently, sitting back in your chair. âI donât have a combative ability. I canât control any elemental force and I donât have a superhuman body. I canât summon entities to fight on my behalf and I certainly canât shapeshift. Chuuya spent a lot of time studying physics to fine tune his power, my path laid in psychology. You see, my ability isnât flashy or showy like many others, but it is an ability nonetheless, and even the weakest abilities can become dangerous in the right hands.â
Ui Koutarou stares up at you from the corner that heâs curled up in, his pupils are blown wide and his skin is pale and sweaty. You donât know if heâs looking through you or at you, but you suppose it doesnât matter.
âUsually, conditioning a human mind to have automatic responses to particular stimuli can take months, but Iâve learned to utilize my ability in a way that can speed up that process from months to days,â you explain, watching carefully as you flick the lighter in your hands. âYouâve realized that, of course, Iâve spent the past two days here rewiring your brain to react to things the way I want it to. You canât control the way your heart starts racing when you see this flame, right? I can see the way your breath is short, your pupils dilated. You donât have any reason to be scared of it, itâs harmless, but youâre still terrified. Why?âÂ
He doesnât answer, of course, you didnât say the word, but when you rise to your feet and take a step forward, he scrambles back impossibly further, shrinking into the corner. Your lips curve up as you flick the lighter off and take a seat, watching the way he immediately begins to relax again.Â
âMy ability isnât mind control, I fear if it was, my life would be much more simple,â you sigh, looking up at the ceiling momentarily before lowering your gaze back down to him. âI can induce emotions and states in the human brainâthe weak-minded naturally are much easier than the strong-willed, but I can make both bend to my will, itâs just a matter of how much effort Iâm willing to put into it.â
You tilt your head to the side as you observe him and then pull a pen from your pocket, tossing it in his general direction. You can see the way his chest visibly stutters at the sight of it, breath ceasing, and then he darts to the opposite side of the room. In his desperate flee, his foot brushes the pen and you smile lightly as you activate your ability, watching the way he immediately hits the ground, screaming his throat raw as he curls into a ball. After deactivating your ability, you wait a few seconds for him to calm down before continuing.Â
âThe human psyche is fragile, but the brain is very malleable. As soon as it recognizes that a certain action will always bear a negative consequence, it will adapt and do everything it can to prevent you from taking that action to avoid the negative consequences.â You lean forward, looking down at him. âItâs recognized now to associate fear with a flame and a pen. You canât control the way that the sight of either of these two objects make you reactâitâs reflexive because your brain has already taken the necessary steps to ensure that you donât get close enough to either to trigger the consequence that comes along with touching it.â
The flame is a necessary step. Itâs easier to force the brain to associate fear with something that is inherently dangerous, and you needed to see how long it might take for you to move on to something thatâs not inherently dangerous. It took three hours of conditioning to make his brain adapt enough to have reflexive responses to the sight of fire.
Then you moved onto a pen, because you thought it was ironic for a journalist to fear the same thing he uses to complete his job. That took six hours.Â
âWhen you stayed away from the two objects, I rewarded you,â you explain with a thin smile. âIt mustâve been so relieving⊠all of the pleasant emotions you felt after nearly five days of being locked up here. Happiness, hope, gratitude. Iâm sure it was confusing too, because you didnât know why you felt that way but you were so quick to bask in them that it didnât matter.â
Ui continues to watch you, so you continue speaking. You think youâre talking more to yourself than to him, you donât even know if heâs capable of processing your words at this point, but you need to keep yourself busy while you wait.
âWhen you touched the objects, I punished you,â you continue. âGuilt, sadness, but my favorite is fear. Itâs the easiest emotion to induce in someone, itâs not one that I have to actively keep applied because the human mind spirals once it has a taste of it. They call it the mind killer.â
The last sentence tastes bitter on your tongue. It reminds you of Dazai.
âI did the same thing with your ability to speak⊠Speaking is a voluntary action, itâs a bit different than conditioning reflexive responses, but it still worked. Now, you canât speak until I say the word, right?â
He doesnât respond. You didnât say the word.
âSpeak.â
âYes,â he rasps, voice wet and shaky. âYouâre right.â
âI even made sure that no one else could trigger it. I brought Klaus in here and had him order you to speak. Every time you listened to his order, I punished you. Every time you listened to mine, I rewarded you. Do you remember that?â
He doesnât respond. You didnât say the word.
âSpeak.â
âI remember,â he replies. âI remember.â
âDazai Osamu was captured by the Guild because you worked alongside them to have me arrested. Isnât that right?â
He doesnât respond. You didnât say the word.
Your voice is colder this time as you say: âSpeak.â
âI didnât mean for him to get kidnapped.â He has the nerve to sound like heâs about to cry. âNone of my students, I didnât mean for it-â
âThatâs not what I asked. Speak.â
âYes,â he chokes out. âYes, he got kidnapped because of me.â
âThatâs right,â you agree, âand he might die because of you too. Was it worth it?â
He doesnât respond. You didnât say the word.
âSpeak.â
âNo,â he whispers. âNo, it wasnât worth it.â
âI know,â you say, more to yourself than him. âBut I suppose weâve all done things that had consequences that werenât worth it.â
You sigh, glancing to the side to see a figure waiting outside the cell. Chuuyaâs face is twisted in displeasure, an unreadable look in his eyes as he stares at you.
âIf it were up to me, I would let you live,â you admit. âA journalist too scared to ever pick up the pen again⊠the man trying to bring down the Port Mafia little more than a puppet for one of its executives⊠an ironic fate, possibly one worse than death.âÂ
You rise to your feet and walk to the door of the cell, leaving the room. Before you leave, you look over your shoulder and say:
âLuckily, your fate is not up to me.â
You leave the cell and close the door behind you, looking up to meet Chuuyaâs familiar eyes, cool and disapproving.
âDonât you think you might be going too far?â he asks quietly.
âSays the man who leveled an entire ward,â you reply coldly and he winces at the reminder. âI donât want to hear anything from you about âtoo farâ. If anything, I havenât gone far enough.â
Chuuya sighs, but he doesnât press the matter.Â
âYou should get some rest,â he finally says. âYouâve pretty much been up for two days straight, and I know you didnât sleep while locked up.â
You click your tongue and look away. âI slept yesterday.â
âFor an hour and a half,â Chuuya replies dryly. âTorturing the fuckinâ journalist isnât going to bring Dazai back-â
âNo, but it makes me feel better,â you interrupt, gaze sharpening.Â
âDoes it?â
âIt does, in fact,â you say, giving him a thin smile, âmore than you could ever believe.â
Chuuya lets out another sigh, this one heavier than the last. âIâm worried about you,â he says, voice tight. âI-â
âI donât care, Chuuya,â you say, watching as Chuuyaâs face twists in frustration. âI donât need your concern. I need Osamu back and until he is-â
âThis isnât going to bring him back, you-â
âI donât care!â You donât even realize youâve raised your voice, donât even register your own movements as your hands dart out to shove Chuuya back hard. He only stumbles a few steps, but he gives you a pointed look. Suddenly, you want to cry again and your voice wobbles as you repeat, âI donât care.â
Heâs right. You know heâs right. Torturing Ui Koutarou isnât going to do anything to help Dazai. The man is useless, gave information to the Guild that he shouldnât have, but has no idea their whereabouts or even who he spoke to. And itâs not making you feel better like you claim it is, the sick bit of glee you may feel watching the journalist-turned-husk dissipates quickly whenever the thought of Dazai crosses your mind.
The Guild hasnât even reached out to you.
You donât know if itâs a good sign or a bad signâprobably a bad one. If they were trying to use him as leverage over you and the Port Mafia, then they wouldâve done that by now. They could be waiting for you to reach out, it would give them the advantage in negotiations, but you canât reach out before you have something to negotiate with.Â
But the longer you wait⊠theyâll use it against Dazai. Theyâll tell him you donât care to come after him. Theyâll tell him youâve been out of prison for two days, yet you havenât bothered to reach out to the Guild to get him back. Theyâll make him feel worthless and Dazai already has such a poor perception of himself that you fear heâll believe it, but you canât do anything yet.
Not yet, but soon.Â
Soon.
âThe Diet postponed the military bill,â Chuuya says, changing the subject. Your gaze snaps back over to him. âAne-san just got word from one of her friends in the House of Councillors. They pushed it two weeks out.â
You grimace instantly, shaking your head. âThey want to see what happens with the indictment. If it gets dropped or goes to trial. If it goes to trial, weâll lose more swing votes.â
âI asked Piano Man if he could talk to Tachibana, see whatâs going on with getting the charges dropped, I know you have a lot on you right now, but I figured youâd want to know this,â Chuuya murmurs apologetically, squeezing your wrist.
Dazai is gone. The Guild is at your doorstep. There are countless indictments that youâre not sure are going to get dropped. The military bill is still looming over you. God, itâs never ending. Youâre so tired.
âIâm glad you told me,â you finally tell him, but your voice is strained. âIâll figure something out about the bill if the worst case scenario happens.â
Chuuyaâs lips part like heâs about to speak, but he pauses suddenly, eyes flickering behind you. A dreadful feeling suddenly hangs over you as you turn around to face none other than Moriâthe man never comes to the torture rooms himself so you know he must be looking for someone and that someone is very likely you.
Chuuya takes off his hat and lowers his head. You usually would follow suit but you donât this time, keeping your chin high as you stare at Mori. His lips only curve up in response to your lack of respect, much to your displeasure.
âChuuya-kun, may I?â Mori hums, doesnât have to specify what he wants because Chuuya knows, nodding and excusing himself so Mori can speak to you alone.
His eyes slide away from you to the cell that holds Ui Koutarou. You watch as he looks between the pen on the ground and the way the man is as far away from it as possible. He tilts his head to the side in amusement, lifting his fingers to the chest pocket of his lab coat, pulling out the pen he always has stashed in there before tossing it at him. Ui is unable to dodge it fast enough, doesnât realize whatâs happening until too late.
The moment the pen touches his body, you activate your ability, watching him let out another blood curdling scream before focusing your attention back on Mori, who looks oddly pleased by what heâs found.
âTwo days of work?â he questions.
âA little over.â
âHow impressive,â he murmursâfor the first time, he says it without the mocking lilt that usually accompanies it and your throat swells, eyes flickering away from him to the wall.Â
You know that heâs probably only saying it to try to ease your anger at him, but you canât help the way it makes you feel after years of trying to get him to say those very words to you and mean them.
âDid you know?â you finally ask him, voice too hoarse for your liking.
âDid I know what?â Mori asks, raising his eyebrows to look down at you with sharp eyes that tell you he knows exactly what youâre asking but isnât going to make this easy for you.
âDid you know that Ace was setting me up? Was it punishment?â Your nails dig deep into your palms as you wait for a response, so much so that you can feel the blood trickling between your fingers. âDid you?âÂ
âOf course not, I would never risk our political position so recklessly. Especially with the military bill in the Diet,â Mori scoffs, looking away for a moment before glancing back down at you. âNor would I risk you so recklessly. You should know that by now, little hime.â
You avert your gaze, shaking your head. Heâs only saying this to appease you, you know it, you donât know why youâre still falling for it.Â
âI donât know anything that goes on in your mind,â you bite back, grateful that your voice is steadier than how you feel. âWhy isnât he being punished then? He betrayed the Port Mafia.â
âI still have something I need him to do,â Mori replies easily, lips curving up into a smile that unsettles you. â... Donât fret, my dear, when the time comes, you can be the one to handle his execution.â
You click your tongue sharply. âIt better be soon.â
You can only define the smile on his face as sinister, and you almost regret your words when he replies, âIt will be,â because you donât know what exactly he has planned for him to be smiling like that.
Before you can interrogate him on what the hell heâs even talking about, Klaus comes stumbling down the steps with wide eyes and an excited expression on his face. He pauses when he sees Mori, gaze darting between the two of you.
âIâll speak to you later, little hime,â Mori says dismissivelyâyou wonder what he came down here for, he wouldnât have come to speak to you without some sort of agenda and you donât know what he would have achieved from this conversation beyond unnerving you. â... Keep up the good work.â
Your throat tightens as he turns to leave, gliding past Klaus who awkwardly lowers his head in respect as he walks by. As soon as heâs out of sight, Klaus turns to you, lips spreading in a toothy smile.Â
âTolstoy is here.â
Your eyes widen instantly. âTake me to him.â
You thought he would be a bit longer. Your chest is tight with anticipation as you follow Klaus to another level in the main headquarters. You were expecting to have to wait at least another day or two for him to complete the favor you asked for him and another thirteen hours for him to fly from New York City to Yokohama. You suppose you shouldnât be surprised, Tolstoy has always exceeded your expectations, but still⊠you hadnât dared hope.
The man is leaning outside the door Klaus leads you to, lips curved up in a familiar smile, blue eyes glittering playfully as soon as he catches sight of you. Â
âPrincess,â he greets, holding his hand out for you to place yours in. You roll your eyes fondly as the blonde lifts your hand to his lips to ghost a kiss against your knuckles. He winks at you. âSheâs all yours.â
You thank him quietly before pushing open the door to enter the conference room in front of you. The woman waiting inside is prim and elegant, wearing a long dress with jewels decorating her neck and wrists. Her expression is cool and closed off at first glance, but you can see the glassiness of her eyes and the way her thin fingers tremble in her lap.
You give the woman a soft smile as you approach, kneeling in front of her and taking her hands in yours. You make sure your expression is gentle and genuine as you look up at her, watching as your ability instantly goes to work when her fingers stop trembling and her own expression softens as she looks down at you.
âHi, Zelda,â you greet, voice sweet and honeyed. âYou donât need to be scared. Iâm a friend.â
When Zelda Fitzgerald lets out a soft breath of relief, the tenseness in her shoulders easing, you know that sheâs made the fatal mistake of believing you and your smile becomes a bit more authentic.Â
Finally, you can make your move.Â
âCome, letâs go somewhere more comfortable. We have a lot to talk about.â
#dazai x reader#dazai x you#dazai osamu x reader#dazai osamu x you#bsd x reader#bsd x you#bungo stray dogs x reader#bungo stray dogs x you
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IN BLOOM | jisung first date series. second chance lovers.
pairing: jisung x fem!reader word count: 13.2k genre: childhood friends au, angst, fluff, songwriter!jisung, florist!reader warnings: swearing, minor character death, grief/loss (nothing to do with any of the members!) summary: it's february. the tulips are in bloom. jisung is back.
chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin · · · ⥠series masterlist · · · ⥠taglist · · · âĄ
a/n: *taps mic* hello?? is this thing on?? oh good. yes. hi. hello! it's been a while, as most of you can tell. thank you all SO MUCH for sticking around. if you've been reading my asks you'll know that march and april were rough months for me personally. shout out to my anons and mutuals who kept my spirits high and made my days brighter. uhhh, this was originally supposed to be a stand alone fic but i figured hey, what the hell, and made it into jisung's first date chapter. it's pretty heavy stuff. lots of feelings, lots of love. i hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it! again, thank you so much for waiting for me. i'll be back soon with more updates! all the love <3
also thank you kenzie for being such a light during all of this. i hope all my screaming in your messages was worth it!
âAll of these had to be pulled.â Hyunjin huffs, dropping a few crates just past the doorway.Â
âAgain?â you ask, hands on your hips as you stare at yet another wasted supply. âI donât understand, they sold so well last year.â
Hyunjin gives you a sad smile. âItâll pick up eventually, donât worry. I mean the holidays just finished and business usually slows down in the months after anyways.â
Heâs being sincere, you know that. But thereâs a part of you that also knows itâs a lot more than just the usual ebb and flow of sales. Heâs being nice for your sake.
âMaybe we could try coming up with other ideas?â he suggests, because Hyunjin is nothing if not kind. Always willing, always finding a way.
He moves past you to grab a fresh pair of gloves. The ones heâs wearing are dirty, pollen-stained and ripped at the edges.Â
âYouâve always been really good at basket arrangements. We could try to make some for Valentine's Day. Different sizes, maybe? The big ones will probably do well for online orders since theyâre more optimal for things like office deliveries and stuff like that.â
You hum in approval. âTrue. I mean, I was kind of worried we would have to skip out on deliveries this year since we donât have the manpower to handle all of that, but I think Jeonginâs been looking to pick up hours around here again. He said something about his program giving them a month of independent study, so heâll be home for a bit.â you say, scribbling down a reminder in your notebook. âI could ask him to help with driving the truck in his free time?â
Hyunjin lights upâ he always does when Jeongin is mentioned.Â
Itâs been a lot quieter ever since he left for college. There were so many tears and so many hugs that were met with countless 'you guys are dramatic's in return. But itâs hard to not feel sad when people leave town; when they decide the borders lined with apple trees and rice fields arenât enough to stop their dreams from blooming into more than whatâs capable of being pursued here.
That, unsurprisingly, is something you know all too well.
âCanât believe heâs driving.â Hyunjin laments as he wipes his floral scissors with a rag. âI used to spend my days changing his diapers and spoon feeding him redbullsâ but now? Driving? My baby is all grown up.â he fake sniffles. âBy the way, Iâm gonna take my fifteen after Iâm done snipping these tulips.â
You snort, bending down to take the crates of wilted flowers to the back for disposal. Hyunjin moves to help but you shake him off.
âSounds good. Also, donât let Innie hear you say that. Iâm about a thousand percent sure he has the strength needed to throw you into the dumpster with one arm now.â
âMy baby would never do that to me!â Hyunjin calls out as you round the corner, bumping open the back door with your hip.Â
February brings a lot of rain in Jeju. Today is no different; fat drops landing on your head as soon as you stumble out into the alley behind the shop. Footsteps heavy on wet brick, you curse under your breath as you run as fast as you can to the dumpster.
Thereâs still a few supply boxes from yesterdayâs shipment laying around. You meant to bring them in, but you were so exhausted that it slipped your mind while you struggled to make sure everything inside the shop was figured out.
Scrambling, you haul them in one by one, shoes squeaking against the floor as you alternate in and out, soggy cardboard pressed against the front of your apron.Â
Hyunjinâs on break. A necessary one at that. You canât bother him, especially not when heâs done enough by taking on more responsibility both as a physical worker and a newly actualized business partner recently. A few stacks of boxes and wet hair seem like a fair trade off for what heâs had to sacrifice in the past year now.
âIdiot,â you mumble, cursing yourself for carelessness. Your slip ups have been more frequent lately, evident in the way you constantly forget things and canât seem to push away the haziness clouding your mind.Â
If it werenât for the timing of it all, youâd blame it on the weather. The gloominess. The overcast skies probably have some sort of hand in your lack of clarity. Shrouded.
But itâs February. And in Jejuâ it rains.
By the time you make it back inside, youâre drenched.Â
âYou look like you just got dunked in a pool.âÂ
You frown, ringing your hair out into the trash bin by the door. Itâll definitely take time to dry off, both your hair and your clothes are soaked through.
Hyunjin watches with an amused look, arms crossed as he leans his back against the counter.
âMight as well have. Itâs insane out there.â you sigh. âHow was your break?â
You look up to find that his face has gone unreadable.
âYeah, about thatâŠâ Hyunjin trails off, voice suddenly smaller than before.
âEverything okay?âÂ
âYeah, yeah itâs justââ Hyunjin chews at his bottom lip.
You push past him into the supply room to switch out your apron just as he says, âDo you mind if I leave a little early today?â
You scoff, turning to face him. âHwang Hyunjin,â you scold, lips twitching when he visibly startles at your tone, âYou donât have to ask me that. Weâre partners now, remember? We run this place.âÂ
He shifts on his feet, still unsure.
âBesides,â you huff, tying a knot behind your back, âWe were friends way before that, too. You donât have to be all proper with me. Of course you can leave early. Itâs slow today, I can take care of it.â
Hyunjin sighs after contemplating for a second. âAre you sure youâll be okay, though?âÂ
When he stares at you for a moment too long, you know the real reason for his hesitation. It makes something twist deep in your gut.
Guilt, maybe, amongst other things.
âOf course.â you shrug, doing your best to seem nonchalant.Â
Hyunjinâs ability to read people is kind of intense, a little scary at times. You happen to be one of his favorite subjects in that regard.
âHave fun. Tell Minah I said hi.â
He pales, sputtering around words as he struggles to say something. Itâs cute, his plump lips opening and closing, eyes wild.
âIâm not going to see her! Iâmâitâs just a movie! How did youâGod, youâre so annoying. I shouldâve made you trim the tulips. Hah!â
You giggle. âItâs funny that you think I wouldnât know, especially with the way you love to actually make yourself look busy whenever she stops by to say hi.â
âI am busy.â he mumbles, looking away. âI just emphasize it a lot more when sheâs here.â
âSure,â you roll your eyes, âLetâs go with that.â
He whines a couple more times, trails after you around the shop and laughs when you swat him away with a rolled up newspaper thatâs used for wrapping vases.
Itâs loud. Easy. Hyunjin is a gentle reminder that normalcy still exists in your day to day, even if itâs hard to find.Â
When he finally decides to leave, he lingers for a moment, triple checks that youâll be okay. You roll your eyes for what feels like the millionth time today, but deep down youâre grateful.Â
âLove you,â he says, one foot out the door. âCall me if you need anything.â
You shake your head, ignoring him. âLove you too.âÂ
And then heâs gone, a skip in his step as he heads down the sidewalk, leaving you with nothing but freshly-trimmed tulips and the sound of rain.Â
âHerb snips, shears, tapeâŠâ you mumble, scanning the supply shelf.Â
Thereâs not much to do in-shop right now. Almost all the arrangements have been tended to by Hyunjin already, his specialty being his keen eye. Thatâs why he handles the appeal of the shop, leaving you to figure out all the logistics. Learning it all was easier said than done.
In reality, it was never your intention to take over the shop at all.Â
âWhen I die,â your grandma would always say, ignoring the way you groaned and begged her to stop bringing it up, âSell this place. Use the money for something worthwhile. A trip to Greece, maybe?â
âNana,â you would scold, glaring at her where she stood next to you, trimming a batch of roses.
Wrinkled hands that still held all the skill of youth. Fingers moving at a speed others could only ever dream of havingâ you included.
Your grandma handled flowers with the same amount of care she did everything else. Itâs no wonder that when they grew they would lean in her direction, drawn to her like they would be the sun.Â
âIâm not selling this place. Itâs too special, too important. A vacation only lasts so long, Nana. This is forever.â
She would smile, turn petals over in her hand. Sometimes the marigolds would match the glow in her eyes, a testament to the belief you harbored as a child that she had the ability to sprout blossoms from her fingertips.
âThe one thing you shouldnât do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.â
You wish you hadnât been so hard headed. Wish that you wouldâve believed her, taken the time to listen, cherished the moment a little bit longer instead of relying on the promise of tomorrow.
Iâm sorry for your loss.
Your grandmother was a wonderful woman.
Sheâll be with you in your heart, forever.
Oh, what a lie forever is.
The shop stays empty for the rest of the day. There were a few passersby, all of whom simply stopped to scan the arrangements along the windows before giving a polite nod and carrying on their way.Â
Realistically, the shop has no problem with attracting customers. Itâs a sight to behold: mid-floor to ceiling windows with various displays, hanging baskets of winding greenery, countless arrangements that fill the shelves and add a pop of color, and a wide assortment of flowers for each season.Â
The real issue lies in your inability to sell. Most people regard the place as being good for nothing more than window shopping and the usual photo-op.
Business has slowed since your Grandma passed; since you took over as the sole owner and were suddenly face to face with the task of making decisions in the shopâs best interestâ both integrity wise and from a business standpoint.
âI know, I know,â you say around the pen cap between your teeth, âYou used to be the brains around here, not me. Iâm not creative enough for all of this, you know? No matter how much I try to be.â
You look up from where your notebook lays open, dozens of scribbles for arrangement ideas and planning. The picture on the wall stares at you, unmoving, eyes as bright as marigolds.
âDonât give me that look.âÂ
She stares. A gaze that holds all the answers while also saying nothing at all.
âUgh.â you groan, leaning your palms on the desk.
You allow your head to hang forward, defeated, exhaustion flooding your bones.Â
Just as youâre about to speak again, to complain about yet another thing that probably has her rolling around in her grave, the bell at the front counter dings.
The clock on the desk reads 6:55pm, five minutes until close. You hadnât even heard anyone come in.
âBe right there!â you call out, rushing to grab your apron from where youâd thrown it on one of the chairs.Â
In your haste, the box of seed packets youâd been inventorying goes tumbling to the floor.
âFuck,â you mutter, bending down to pick everything up. One more thing to add to the list today.Â
Off-kilter. Disoriented. Exhausted.Â
You sniffle a few times, blinking against the sting behind your eyes as you stand up to put the box back in its place.
One deep breath, a shake of your shoulders. Just enough to chase it all away until later.Â
âSorry about that,â you say cheerily, pushing past the hanging beads that separate the front of the shop from the back. âHow can I help you?â
Thereâs a stranger, his back turned, attention focused on a batch of tulips. Freshly cut. White, blue, purple.
You realize, belatedly, that youâd forgotten to grab your apron in your haste to clean up the seed packets. Another slip up. Nana always prided herself in her apron, wore it like a badge of honor, raised you to do the same.
Just as you spin around to grab it, the stranger says, âItâs okay. I just, um, I wanted to say hi.â
You freeze. Thereâs a long moment where his voice rings loud in your ears, reverberates against the walls of your brain until it travels through your blood, the feeling like wildfire in your veins until it settles deep in the pit of your stomach.Â
Slowly, you turn, heart clamoring in your chest, threatening to stop altogether as soon as you come face to face with the one person you never thought youâd see again.
Because there, at the front of the store, is Jisung.
Jisung, with wide eyes and parted lips. Jisung, with hair that still curls at the ends and falls in shags around his face. Jisung, broader, more actualized, now grown into his features but still undeniably soft around the edges. Jisung, with thick framed glasses pushed up his nose and silver hoops dangling from his ears.Â
A stranger. But undoubtedly Jisung.Â
âYou lookâŠnice.â he says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly with his free hand.
Three words is all it takes. Ice turns to fire. The blood that had drained from your face returns with the blaze of a thousand suns, anger burning your throat.Â
You reach forward, grab the remote for the neon Open sign and click the power button. Jisung watches in confusion.
âThe shop is closed.â you manage on a shaky breath.
Jisung sighs, something heavy. âListen, Iâmââ
âThe shopââ you try again, louder, ââis closed.âÂ
Jisung stares. His eyes are still the same velvety brown; big and round and just as you remember.Â
There was once a time where the sight of Jisung in your Grandmaâs shop made your heart sing. A soft tune, the thrum of a thousand harps, a song only for him.
His heart-shaped smile as he helped her hammer some of the shelves onto the wall. The sound of his laughter whenever youâd enter a sneezing fit from accidentally rubbing your face with a gloved hand. His rosy cheeks, burnt from the wind whipping past his face as he ran on foot to make sure you were okay the one time an angry customer smashed a vase on the floor and you called him crying.
But now, seeing him here, a stranger in a body you once knew like the back of your handâ it feels wrong.Â
âIâŠâ he trails off, registering the way your fists are clenched at your sides.Â
âOkay,â he resigns, licking his lips. âI, uhâ have a good night.â
He gives you one last look, bottom lip pulled tight between his teeth, and then slips out the door. You watch his retreating figure through the glass panel, dark gray skies muting the sound of your rattling heart.
Itâs February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is back.
And in Jejuâ it rains.
Thereâs an apple tree in the middle of town where Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time.Â
Off the corner, a few minutes down the road from where your houses stand a mere five hundred feet away from one another.
Your grandparents were farmers. Your grandma started her floral business a few years before you were born, a dream she always had that your grandpa urged her to pursue once he decided to sell the animals to a younger, more capable couple that could take care of them.Â
Jisungâs parents, new residents on the island, looking to settle down and start a family.Â
Thatâs how it happens. Yours and Jisungâs story, two authors of the same book, destined since the start.
Jisung was born on the same night your mother left you at your grandparentsâ doorstep. One note, an apology, is all youâve ever known about her. Your grandma never cared to indulge you. Youâre glad in a way. She provided more than enough love to make sure you never felt an absence in her wake.Â
The townspeople used to say you and Jisung were soulmates. Something about the heavens knowing he would need a friend, hence why you were delivered that night. From that moment on, the two of you were inseparable.Â
Attached at the hip, you and Jisung grew up together. First steps, first birthdays, firsts for everything under the sun.
Jisung was there in the morning to walk with you to school and he was there at night when the two of you tucked into bed, sleepovers a regular occurrence, both of you counting the pale green stick-on stars dotting his ceiling until you fell asleep.Â
Jisung was always around. He held your hand and walked with you to the nurseâs office the first time you got stung by a bee. He wiped your eyes when the boy you liked told you he only ever saw you as a friend, your first rejection. He sat with you under the stars the night your grandpa died, your face tucked into his neck as you stained the collar of his shirt with tears until you were too tired to cry. In the years that followed, he took care of you and your grandma like the two of you were his own.Â
Jisung, for lack of a better word, was your first forever.
âYou could come with me, you know.âÂ
Under the stars, real ones that time, Jisung had turned to you and offered the world.Â
The air was cold. The apple tree was bare.
âItâll be fun. Weâll be together, weâll experience new things. I can do music and you can study all that history stuff you like to learn about. You know, nerdy things.â
âTheyâre not nerdy things, Ji. Donât you know everything we have now is because of whatâs happened before us?â youâd asked. âDoesnât it make you wonder? Learning about the past helps us better understand the present, and ultimately the future.â
Jisung had hummed softly, an agreement. âI donât care about the future, though.â heâd said. âI care about right now. You, me, this.âÂ
When you turned to look at him, he propped himself up on one elbow and stared down at you from above as the moon casted a halo around his head.Â
âI love you,â he whispered, âAnd I want you to come with me.â
Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the ambition to make it his own.Â
You, with all your hopes stuffed tight into a suitcase and chained to a boulder, thrown into the ocean. Sinking and sinking until it hit the bottom.
âI love you too,â you whispered back.
Images of marigolds flashed behind your eyes when you closed them, a tear rolling down your cheek. Jisungâs mouth was soft when he kissed it away, salt on his lips. Burning.Â
âBut I canât.â you choked.Â
Under the apple tree, Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time. He promised that the distance would be no match for him, that he would traverse oceans to find his way back. He promised forever.
It was February. The tulips were in bloom. Jisung left to pursue his dreams with a guitar on his back and your heart in his hands. Your understanding of forever was shot at point blank. The bullet passed clean through you.Â
And in Jejuâ it rained.
âI think you should talk to him.â
The sun is out today. Perfect weather for another field harvest. The distributor had called you early in the morning to ask if youâd be willing to accept a drop off even though itâs the weekend. Youâd agreed, calling in your most reliable help for the job.
âAnd I think youâre not helping.â you huff, snipping the head off another hyacinth.
âAgreed,â Hyunjin parrots from beside you, currently in the middle of putting together an arrangement, âThis guy sounds like a total dick.â
Chan sighs from behind the two of you, his knees knocking against the legs of the desk when he swivels back and forth in the chair.Â
Besides Hyunjin and Jeongin, both of whom moved into town after youâd already graduated, and of course, Jisungâ Chan is your oldest friend.Â
Chan was also a neighbor of yours. Three years older than you and Jisung, he was the one who acted as a role model for the two of you when growing up. Nowadays he helps his parents run the largest orange grove on the island during the day and DJs one of the clubs in the tourism hub at night.Â
âJisungâs not a dick, heâs justââ
âAn asshole.â you finish, smirking when Hyunjin cackles.Â
Chan sighs. Again. âYeah okay, Iâll give you that one.â
âListen, I know Iâve never met him, but isnât it weird that he just, like, showed up?â Hyunjin asks, setting down his scissors. You continue trimming the hyacinths, listening halfheartedly.
âI mean, think about it. Dude disappears to pursue music, right? Heâs gone for whatâ three years?â
âFour.â you correct.
âGod, even worse.â he grimaces.
âBut yeah, okay, four years. And then boom! He just strolls in through the front door without so much as a word during the time he was gone? No letters, no phone calls, not even a damn visit. Nothing! All so he can pop up and go âoh, you look niceâ? Come on.â he scoffs, crossing his arms.
You wince, caught off guard because youâve never really heard it phrased as bluntly as Hyunjin put it just then. Itâs no surprise that heâs annoyed, having only just heard the full story thirty minutes ago. Heâd been shocked, partly because you never told him and also because he just couldnât believe what he was hearing.
âOkay, yes, he was wrong for that. But isnât part of you even just the least bit curious as to why?âÂ
You pause mid-snip, mulling Chanâs words over in your head.
The most frustrating part about it all is that you are curious. You wish you werenât, though. Not when youâve spent the past four years trying to convince yourself that you donât need to know what Jisungâs been up to, donât need to know if heâs been okay since he clearly held no concern for you in that regard anyways.
âWhat?â you ask when you realize that both boys are staring at you.Â
âWell?â Hyunjin pushes. âAre you?â
You shrug. âNo, not really.âÂ
Thereâs a total of five seconds that pass before Hyunjin is stomping over and hauling Chan up out of his chair, pushing him towards the front door as he protests.
âOut! Out, out, out, we have important business matters to discuss.â
âBut we were supposed to get lunchâ!â
âWeâre taking a rain check!â Hyunjin fights back, shoving him out of the shop before he has a chance to answer. He drops the shade to cover the glass, Chanâs sad figure left alone on the other side.
You gape at him. âWhat was that for?â
Hyunjin scoffs. âYou think youâre convincing? Think again.âÂ
He hops up on to the counter and gestures for you to do the same. When you do, he pulls you closer, grabs your hand in his, and pushes your head down until itâs resting on his shoulder.Â
âTell me the truth now,â he says, soft. âI know thereâs more to it.â
Hyunjinâs warm to the touch. The heat seeps through the fabric of his shirt, igniting the skin of your cheek until you feel like youâre standing too close to the sun. A star. Hyunjin is a light in your tunnel.
âI am curious,â you start, âAbout him, I mean. Iâveâ I donât know. Itâs been so long. I tried to pretend I didnât care when I saw him, but the minute I looked into his eyes it was like I was eighteen again. Eighteen and happy and looking at someone that I always thought would be there, you know?âÂ
Hyunjin hums but doesnât say anything. He squeezes your hand once, a signal to keep going.Â
âIâm scared, though. Part of me doesnât want to know.â
Hyunjin takes a deep breath. âWhat are you scared of?â
Through the gaps in the beads you can see into your office, the picture of your Grandma hanging on the wall. She stares at you, unblinking.Â
âWhat if he tells me that itâs true?â you ask, lifting your head to look up at him. âWhat if he says that I was right, that he didnât care? That he left and didnât want to call because it no longer mattered to him? That he loves his life there and only came back to clear his own conscience?âÂ
âOh honey,â Hyunjin soothes, pulling you into his chest. You hadnât realized you were crying, that the anger and fear had bubbled over until there were tears falling down your cheeks, wetting the fabric of Hyunjinâs sweater.Â
He lets you cry for a while. Itâs nothing new; Hyunjin has seen you break down countless times. Heâs been there through the worst of it, held your hand even in the aftermath. Heâs picked you up off the floor more times than you can count, has grounded you when you felt like the world was gonna open up beneath you and swallow you whole. Salt of the earth, returning you to its core.
Once youâve quieted into nothing more than shallow breaths and a few scattered hiccups, Hyunjin speaks again.
âCan you be honest with me?â
You nod, the hair stuck to your cheek with tears rubbing against his shoulder.Â
âDo you love him?â
It nearly knocks the wind out of you. This concept, so foreign to you now, shoved to the back of your mind to make room for the things that matter most. Hospital visits, labor cuts, wage increasesâ none of it left any room for love, let alone the thought of someone else. Especially someone as all-consuming as Jisung.
Slowly, you inhale, breath shaking on the exhale. Hyunjin squeezes your hand to remind you that heâs there.
âI donât think I ever stopped, Hyune.â
The silence stretches thin. The realization is dizzying. Years of suppressed emotions, of telling yourself and everyone around you that it wasnât a big deal. The sad eyes of the townspeople whenever theyâd see you sitting beneath the apple tree. The gentle touch of your grandmaâs hand when sheâd find you on the front steps alone, staring at the stars. The soft hum of the radio in the shop, set to a playlist of all the songs heâs written, the only reminder that somewhere out there he was doing well.
The final crack in the dam, its water pushing until it gives way.
âThen you owe it to yourself,â Hyunjin says. âYou owe it to your heart to get an answer. Free yourself from this pain, love. Donât let yourself suffer forever.â
Forever. That word again. No matter how many times youâve tried to escape it, it always comes back.
âItâs gonna hurt.â he sighs, tightening his grip when you sniffle. âItâs gonna hurt so fucking bad, babe. But you can take it. Youâve got people who love you enough to stand in front of you and soften the blow from time to time. But youâll be okay. Iâll make sure of it.â
He hops down from the counter and moves to stand in front of you, right between your legs. Placing both hands on your shoulders, he pushes until youâre sitting with your back straight and lifts your chin.Â
âYou deserve an answer.â he says, with conviction this time. âOkay?â
He lets his thumb swipe beneath your eyes, smiles softly. Unconditionalâ thatâs what he is. Hyunjin burns brighter than any star in your sky, the heat wrapping its arms around you like itâs too scared to let go, to watch you freeze and die out like so many others.Â
âI donât deserve you, though.â you say, laughing wetly when he rolls his eyes.
âShut up,â he chuckles, pulling you in for a hug, âYou deserve everything and more.â
When Jisung comes into the shop two days later, youâre ready for it.Â
Chan had talked to him. No surprise, really, not when heâs been letting him crash in his spare room ever since he figured out that he was holed up in one of the hotels out in the tourism hub.Â
If thereâs one thing about Chan, itâs that heâd rip the shirt off his back to clothe anyone in need. Housing a friend is nothing, especially when that friend is Jisung.
âI donât know how much of a consolation this is,â heâd said nervously, watching as you regarded him with an expectant look, âBut heâs pretty cut up about you not wanting to see him. Which, I know, is stupid. He is the one who fucked up. But I justâ I donât know. Iâve never seen him like this, I guess.â
Itâs not a consolation, not really. Knowing that Jisung is struggling is far from anything you want to hear.Â
Sure, thereâs anger present. Anyone would be stupid to not feel the least bit frustrated with whatâs happened. Years lost, time stripped away. But youâve long since come to terms with it, the anger turning to sadness in the meantime.
âAlso, he leaves tomorrow.â Chan smiled sadly. âHe really wants to talk to you before then.â
Hyunjin left early again today to give the two of you space. Not before making a show of his own though, threatening to incite violence with his arms that are supposedly âshreddedâ from years of lifting boxes filled with petunias.Â
The shop is slow again, not many sales nor a lot of foot traffic. Usually when the sun is out thereâs more to do; people to see, smiles to give. But thereâs nothing, just the chirping of birds and the sound of cars rolling by.Â
Maybe the world knows that this is what you need. The calm before the storm.Â
Five minutes until close. Youâve spent most of the day pacing back and forth. Waiting. Anticipating.Â
Chan had said Jisung planned on stopping by, trying again. Youâd told him that was okay, and his eyes lit up. Too much hope, maybe, that something might come of this.Â
Youâre seated in the back office, staring at marigold colored irises when the front door opens. You hear it this time, ears fine tuned, waiting.Â
Slowly, you stand, make your way to the front. You donât realize youâre holding your breath until you pull back the beaded curtain and Jisungâs figure comes into view.Â
He looks the same as he did the other day: curled hair, thick glasses, parted lips. His sweater, fluffy and striped, hangs off of his shoulders in a way that boxes off his tapered waist, one that you know is hidden beneath all the layers. The sleeves are way too long judging by the way it curls over his fingers.Â
âHi.â he breathes out, watching as you step into full view.
You blink. âHi, Jisung.â
His name feels weird on your tongue. Bitter. Itâs been years since you uttered it, forbidding yourself from the luxury out of fear that it would make his absence more real. Talking about him in the past tense always scared you off before you could even get the chance.Â
âHowâ Howâve you been?â he chews on the inside of his lip.
You want to scold him, tell him to stop the habit just like you always would in the past. Heâd make a joke then, tell you to kiss him so that he had something else to do instead. You would laugh, feign disgust, but in the back of your mind youâd wanted it more than anything.Â
Youâd waited for it, the day you could kiss him without warning and melt into his touch as he kissed you back. Another stupid bet on forever; the belief that you had all the time in the world for things to get to that point.
âIâve been better.â you say, taking a deep breath. âWhat about you?â
Good, you think. Heâs been good. He looks good. He doesnât need this place.
âMe too.â he says instead. âIâve been better.â
You donât know what to say to that. Silence fills the room, heavy on both your chests. The anticipation feels like it might kill you before anything else does.Â
âIâm sorry thatââ
âIs that all you came here to say?â you cut him off.
âWhat?â he asks, confused. âNo, Iâ no.â
âWhat, then? What is it you want to say, Jisung?â your voice is firm. He winces when his name leaves your mouth. âBecause, honestly, Iâve waited all this time to hear literally anything from you, and if all that comes out of this is that youâve âbeen betterâ I might actually lose my fucking mind.â
The words tumble out faster than you intend. You canât help it, not with the way anxiety has been bubbling over in your chest since the moment you woke up this morning. You could barely sleep last night, not when you were playing out every possible scenario in your head, the anticipation of it all making your sheets feel scratchy against your skin and the lumps in your pillow more discernible.Â
âNo, no, of course I wouldnât do that.â he says quickly. âIt's just that I didnât know where to start. I donât know how much youâll allow me to say, what the boundary is here. I didnât want to just barge in and demand you listen to me. You donât owe me that. You donât owe me anything. Not after what I did.â
What I did, his voice rings loud in your ears. Heâs aware of it, of the pain he caused.Â
He takes a step forward, and then another, again and again until heâs right up against the front counter, an armâs length away.Â
Your breath catches then, when you see him up close for the first time in four years, see the way heâs grown and changed with your own eyes.Â
Stubble dotting his chin, laugh lines around his mouth, the dip and curve of the bow above his lips that you always loved. Brown eyes, soil and stardust.Â
âTell me what your conditions are,â he says quietly, âAnd Iâll give you every explanation I have.â
The sincerity on his face is blinding. Your stomach twists at the thought of hearing what he has to say, that same fear brewing in the pit of it. You take a deep breath, feel the phantom ghost of a hand squeezing yours and a crescent moon eye smile.Â
âI waited four years for you.â you say.
âI know.â
âI trusted that youâd be back. That you would keep in touch during the time you were gone.â
âIââ his voice cracks. âI know.â
âYou lied to me.â
Jisung tips his head back then. Swallows down a lump in his throat. Blinks rapidly at the ceiling, veins of ivy crawling along the expanse of it.
âI know.â
âSo you owe me everything. I deserve that. I deserve answers.â
When he brings his head down to look at you, itâs unreadable. A mix of emotions that you arenât familiar enough with anymore to decipher. Fear, guilt, sorrow. Hope, too. Maybe.
You stare at him head on, fully letting your eyes meet for the first time in what feels like an eternity. He holds your gaze, unwavering. Determined. The sight makes your heart clench.Â
âOkay,â he says after a beat of silence. âOkay. I can do that.â
Despite the ever-growing mountain of things to address, you decide that the first thing you want to hear from Jisung is about his time in Seoul.Â
Youâre only human, after all.
Best friends from the startâ you canât stop yourself from wondering what life has been like for him. Jisungâs always been good at storytelling, animated in his features and gestures to the point that youâd be rolling around and clutching your stomach from laughter. Itâs one of the things you missed the most, just talking and being present in one anotherâs lives.
The two of you end up at one of the diners down the road. The owners, an elderly couple, coo as soon as they catch sight of you.
âMy flower girl,â the old lady, Mrs. Kim, greets.
âMrs. Kim,â you beam, moving in for a hug. When you pull away, Jisung is behind you, hands clasped behind his back and feet together like he has his tail between his legs.
âHalmeoni,â you say, gesturing at him, âDo you remember Jisungie?âÂ
His eyes go wide at the nickname, and you try to ignore the heat creeping up your neck, avoiding his gaze and instead watching as Mrs. Kim blinks in surprise.
âOh! Oh my goodness, our Jisungie? Honey! Honey, look, Jisung is here! Oh you crazy boy,â she scolds, rushing forward to hit his shoulder and pull him in for a hug. âWhere have you been? Itâs been ages!âÂ
Jisung lets out an oof! as her body slams into him, all of his anxiousness dissolving into laughter as he hugs her back.Â
âHi Mrs. Kim, how have you been?âÂ
âMe?â she asks, pulling him away to hold at armâs length, âNevermind about me! Iâm old! How have you been?â
Good, you think again, a mimic of earlier. Jisungs eyes flit over to yours for the smallest of moments before he answers.
âBetter,â he says. âIâm doing better.â
Once both Mr. and Mrs. Kim are done doting over the both of you, they seat you by the window.
The island is always beautiful on sunny days: trees swaying, golden rays painting the rooftops in hues of pink and orange, the indigo shimmer of the ocean off in the distance.
âSo,â you say, catching Jisungâs attention, âTell me about Seoul.â
He hums. âItâs busy. Stinks. Lots of people.â
âDream come true, yeah?â you joke, taking a sip of your water.
Jisung chuckles. âYou could say that, I guess.â
âI mean, it was yours.â
âIt was.â he sighs, looking down at the table. âI donât know. Itâs nice. I met good people, made even better connections. I live in this one bedroom studio apartment just outside of Itaewon, so Iâm close to where all the foreigners hang out. Iâve learned a lot, gained a lot of inspiration for my music.â
You follow along, staring at him intently. His mouth, still heart-shaped, twitches when he catches you in the act.
You clear your throat, glancing away. âYeah, Iâveâ uh, Iâve heard some of your songs.â
He raises his eyebrows, almost like he hadnât expected you to say that. âReally?â
âYeah. I mean, I hear them on the radio sometimes.â A lie. âIt usually takes me a second to realize that itâs you.â Another lie. âBut theyâre good, youâre doing well.â
Pink dusts the tops of Jisungâs cheeks as he turns back to the window, clearing his throat.
He looks younger like this, like heâs still the same boy who would sit across from you all those years ago. Cherry-stained lips and a smile so bright it put the sun to shame.
He talks a bit more about his music, about how heâs with a good company that gives him creative freedom and enough support to pursue more if he desires.
His eyes light up when he tells you about his studio, a small room on the fifth floor of a building in the middle of the city where he does all of his writing. Itâs equipped with an entire soundboard, full of instruments that he says heâs been able to get signed by artists that come in and out. Most notably, his guitar, the same one he left with.Â
Slowly, like a flower blossoming, petals opening one by one, you feel yourself falling back into step with him.
Everything is so familiar: the curve of his smile, the tilt in his voice when he gets excited, the rumble of laughter when he recounts an embarrassing run-in with an A-list celebrity in the companyâs cafeteria. He shares stories that fill your heart as the two of you fill your stomachs.
But with the ease comes something more, something you recognize as longing. You hadnât realized how much you longed to be there through this part of his life, how you wished youâd been the one to answer a video call as he showed off his apartment the first day he moved in, his company badge when it was newly issued, every moment of happiness that youâd been absent for just as much as he was absent for yours.
He seems to share the same sentiment then, when he sets down his fork and stares at his empty plate.Â
âYou run the shop now,â he says, âHowâs that been?â
You purse your lips, nodding your head slowly. You knew this conversation would happen, that it was coming.
âItâs good, I guess. Been almost a year now since, uh, it was left to me.â you shrug. âIâm not alone though, Hyunjin is a big help. I donât know what Iâd do without him.â
Jisung noticeably bristles. Eyebrows pulled together, staring more intently at a crumb on his plate. It looks like thereâs a lot he wants to say, like he canât find the words to say them.
So, naturally, you do it for him.Â
âI assume Chan told you so I wouldnât have to, by the way.â
He looks up then, as if he wasnât expecting you to address the very obvious elephant in the room.
âHe did, yes.â Jisung says after a while. His voice is quiet, gentle, like heâs walking on eggshells. âIâ I didnât know how to bring it up. I assume youâve heard it all already butâ I really, really am sorry to hear about Nana.â
The way her name sounds coming out of his mouth turns your mind to static.
Suddenly youâre in the hospital again, monitors beeping, hands as soft as petals cradled in your own and wishing that you could bury your face in a familiar neck as you cried and watched the marigolds wilt.Â
âI donât need an apology for that.â you croak, blinking back tears. Jisung is somewhere in your periphery, your vision blurry around the edges.
âIt wasnât sad. Her life, I mean. It was full. Of love. Of light. She left this place happy. Thatâs what she told me, at least.â
You take a deep breath. âSo donât be sorry about it.â
Jisung sniffles, and the sound shoots straight through your chest.Â
âI know. I justâ Iâm sorry I wasnât here. I shouldâve been. I had no idea thatââ
âNobody did, Jisung. Donât punish yourself for that.â
He sees it then, when you finally meet his eyes, the acceptance. Youâve come to terms with things a long time ago, have fought tooth and nail to come out on the other side of all the guilt and resentment and grief alive. Scathed, but alive nonetheless.
âYouâre right.â he sighs, wiping at his eyes quickly. âSheâd probably yell at me for saying that.â
You laugh, suddenly, the noise startling him. Jisung looks at you like youâre crazy.
âI think she has a lot more to yell at you for than being sorry that she died.â
The bluntness punches a chuckle out of him, and you giggle at the thought.
Your grandmother was always such an outspoken person. She always said what was on her mind, speaking it loud. Thereâs no doubt that if she was here sheâd be berating Jisung, smacking him upside the head before pulling him into a hug and cooking his favorite meal. Tough love, but still, love.
âShe wouldâve loved to be able to see you.â you say once your laughter dies out, the air a bit lighter between the two of you. âShe always wondered if youâd grow your hair out without her around to nag you about keeping it short.âÂ
He reaches up to run a hand through his curls, the strands falling around his face in a way that has your heart stammering in your chest.
âWell, clearly I donât know how to listen.â
âNo, you donât.â
Jisung smiles softly. âMaybe Iâll cut it now. You know, since Iâm here. And because I know sheâd want me to.â
You watch him carefully, searching his eyes. For what, you donât know. All thatâs in them are stars.Â
âYeah,â you say quietly. âYouâre here.â
By the time the two of you leave the diner, stomachs full and enough bags of extra side dishes hanging off of your arms to last you at least two weeks, courtesy of Mrs. Kim, the sun is almost fully set.Â
The ocean is calm, the evening breeze just barely brushing the surface of the tide. Jisung walks in step with you down the street, one side of his face cast in a glow from the sunâs fading rays.Â
âDo you think youâd maybe want to stop by the arcade that Old Man Park runs? Just for a little?â
You snort. âWhy? So I can embarrass you?â
âHey!â he puts a hand on his chest, offended. âIâll have you know that I let you win all those times.â
âHow do you let someone win after spending hours practicing while I worked at the shop?â
âI was being nice!â
âUh huh.â
âDonât believe me?â he grins. You try not to look, afraid of how bad your blood pressure might spike from the sight.Â
âIâll have you know that Iâm one of the best Kart Rider players in the PC Bang scene back in Seoul.â
âJisung,â you scold, âThatâs a computer game. These are coin-ops. Thereâs way more skill needed.â
âNo there isnât!â
He knocks his shoulder against yours, tucking his chin to his chest to hide his smile when you try to fight back.
Itâs easy. Nice. Thereâs a soft melody echoing in the dust-covered chambers of your heart. You still know all the chords.
Old Man Parkâs arcade is a few doors down from the shop. You stop there to drop off the food, spare a glance in the mirror hanging in your office to fix your hair.
Your grandmaâs picture stares at you from the other wall, eyes bright.
âLove you,â you say, kissing the skin of your fingertips and pressing it gently against the frame.
Jisung is toeing at a few rocks on the sidewalk when you walk back out. He doesnât see you, too busy with his eyes casted down at the concrete, hands shoved into his pockets.Â
Itâs still hard to believe that heâs here. Flesh and bone. For a long time it felt like he was nothing but a distant dream, someone who only existed in the memories that you kept locked deep within your heart, the key somewhere on the streets of Seoul.
âReady?â you ask.
He looks up, his glasses moving when his cheeks round into a smile.
Something passes across his faceâ a myriad of emotions in just a fraction of a second. Hesitantly, he holds out his hand. Long, delicate fingers.
You stare at it, swallowing roughly around the butterfly wings flapping inside your throat.Â
The one thing you shouldnât do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.
Forever isnât promised. But even then, there are things you know for sure:
Itâs February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is here. Living, breathing, in the flesh.Â
So you take his hand, watch as relief floods his features, and let yourself feel.
The wind in your hair, the calluses on Jisungâs palms, and the warmth radiating out of the smile that threatens to split his face into two.
And with that certainty, the two of you start walking. A silent agreement to focus on the now.
You. Him. This.
âGod, I canât believe everything is only one coin.â
You laugh, watching as the multi-colored lights cast a glow on Jisungâs face.Â
âStop acting like you donât remember this place.â
âI donât!â he argues, smiling. âWe stopped coming here, what, in middle school? Once Chan hyung started driving? We would always ask him to take us to the other one out in the big town!â
Chanâs first car was an old Camry with leather seats and enough room for the three of you to pile into after school. Used, but still with enough juice to satisfy three young kids who felt like they were on top of the world.
You used to sit in the back, the wind whipping your hair every which way while yours and Jisungâs hands lay side by side in the middle seat, pinkies brushing but neither of you willing to take it further.Â
âOh, shit!â Jisung gasps, letting go of your hand as he runs up to the space invaders machine.Â
âHere we go,â you sigh, following after him. Heâs like a kid in a candy store, face filled with innocent wonder and joy.
âArenât there, like, I donât knowâ things better than this in Seoul?â you ask as he shoves a coin into the game.
Jisung turns to look at you with a devilish grin. âObviously,â he says, âBut I canât beat anyoneâs high score over there. Here though? Ha! This place is ancient. I can finally be at the top of the leaderboard in something.â
âWeâll see about that.â you mumble, the noise of the game booting up drowning you out.Â
Jisung sticks his tongue out when he focuses really hard on things. Itâs cute, the way the end of it sits between his lips, spit-slick and parted just a little bit.
Heâs glowing, probably because of the lights, hues of red and green and blue flashing across his face. But then again, Jisung has always shined brighter than anything.Â
The game beeps to signal that he has one life left. He grunts a few times, his fingers tapping the buttons madly as his other hand handles the joystick in a frenzy of movements.
When it ends, he groans, throws his hands up in defeat..Â
You shake your own head knowingly, watching his eyes bug out of their sockets as soon as the leaderboard appears on the screen, the 8-bit letters blinking at him.Â
âYouâre joking.â he laughs in disbelief, turning to stare at you. âPlease tell me youâre joking.âÂ
There, on the screen, is your name. The highest score. Jeongin and Hyunjinâs names sit just below you, respectively.
âWhat was that again about finally being able to be at the top?â you mock him, smirking.
âSince when did you get good at this?â
You shrug. âHad to find something to do in my free time.â
âNo,â he says, rolling up his sleeves. âNuh-uh. No way. This is not happening. I will beat you.â he holds out his hand for another coin, to which you roll your eyes and place one in his palm.Â
âYou might as well give up now. Weâll be here all night.â
âIn your dreams.â he scoffs, assuming his position as another round loads onto the screen. Â
Jisung has always been competitive. Itâs one of his more hidden characteristics.Â
It persists still, you realize, as you watch him burn through the styrofoam cup of coins that Old Man Park had given the two of you. Free of charge for old timeâs sake.
Fort-five minutes. All heâs managed to do is bump Hyunjin down to fourth.
âUgh!â he groans, kicking the machine lightly with his foot.Â
âLook at you throwing a tantrum.â
âIâm not throwing a tantrum.â he pouts. You raise an eyebrow.
âOkay fine. Iâm throwing a tantrum.âÂ
âThought so.â
âCan you blame me?â he asks. âThis is, like, our first date. And Iâm sucking. Hard.â
âOurââ you stop, eyes wide. Jisung mimics you, almost like he didnât mean to say what he did.Â
Heat rushes to your cheeks. Your mind goes blank. But the world doesnât end. Time keeps moving. Jisung is still here.
âI didnâtââ
âI like the sound of that.â you say quickly. âOf this being our first date, I mean.â
He smiles. Slow and sweet like molasses. Blinding.
âAnd the fact that you suck.â
The moment is shattered, his resulting whine echoing throughout the arcade.
âCome on you big baby,â you laugh, grabbing his hand. âI know a game you can beat me at.â
He lets himself be pulled, pretending that heâs upset, but you can see the smile tugging at his lips when you lace your fingers together.
The feeling is still new, this ease you have with him. The wounds you sported all those years are still healing, some more fresh than others. But with each laugh that comes out of Jisungâs mouth and shared glance, every note that your heart sings, you can feel them beginning to fade. A balm to soothe the burn.
The Pac-Man game is situated in the back corner of the arcade, right next to the jukebox. It used to be your favorite, because Jisung would always use his own coins to play songs for you while you tried to score higher than twenty-five thousand points.Â
When you get there, he frowns. âThe only game you think I can beat you at is Pac-Man?âÂ
âI donât think,â you say, grabbing a coin before shoving the cup into his chest. âI know.â
The game boots up instantly, and you smile softly to yourself when Jisung moves wordlessly behind you, slips a coin into the jukebox.
âPlay something good, Jisungie.â
He freezes. Out of the corner of your eye you watch him stare at you for a long moment. And then he smiles. Stardust.
âYou got it.â
In a matter of seconds, Lovers In A Dangerous Time by Bruce Cockburn rings throughout the arcade, the speakers on the ceiling fighting past the static.
An old song. The same one your grandparents would dance to in the mornings, eggs on the stove and love in the air.
Your grandma used to say it was written for them, because when they fell in love the war was at its peak and she didnât know if heâd ever come home.Â
After he passed, she still played it, except those times it was Jisung who twirled her around and painted a smile on her face as you watched from the same spot you grew up in. Always there.
Jisung, Jisung, Jisung.Â
When the game starts, you try your best. Itâs hard. Youâve always been terrible at anything involving quick decisions. Focusing on everything at once isnât easy for you, that much is still true.Â
âShit.â you mumble, the top right corner of the screen reading ten thousand points as the ghosts run into you.
Jisung lets out a low whistle. âHarsh.â
âYou wanna go back to space invaders and waste the last of our money?â you raise an eyebrow.Â
He holds his hands up in surrender. âSorry, sorry. Go ahead.â he says, holding the cup out for you to take another coin.Â
You try a couple more times, failing each and every one. You can tell that Jisung is growing more and more amused with every attempt, and the smugness radiating off of him is starting to rub you the wrong way.
âIf youâre so good,â you say after a particularly sad attempt, turning to glare at him. Jisung has his lips pulled tight to stop himself from laughing. âThen why donât you try?â
He chuckles then. âIâd rather help you, if youâll let me.â
âHow are you supposed to do that? We only have one coin left.â
Jisung doesnât say anything. He puts the cup down, the last coin held between his fingers. You watch as he slips it into the machine, move to get out of his way once heâs done, but he stops you by grabbing your hand and spinning you back around, his fingers placed over yours on the joystick.Â
With your back flush against his front, caged in by his arms on either side, Jisung takes a deep breath.
âThis okay?â he asks right next to your ear, the curls on the side of his head brushing your cheek when he leans down to get a better look at the screen.
Warm. Heâs so warm. The material of his sweater only worsens the heat, and the faint scent of vanilla makes your head swim.
Itâs more than okay. Great, even. Itâs Jisung. Everything and more.
âYeah,â you say, letting him control your hands as he flicks the joystick. âItâs okay.â
The hair against your cheek moves when he smiles. âGood.â he says, and then hits the start button.
The game begins but youâre barely processing whatâs happening, too aware of the feeling of his body pressed against yours.Â
A firm chest, different from whatâs observable on the outside, what with the fluffiness of his sweater and soft features. His arms too, encasing you, the bulge and flex of his biceps every time he moves.
Itâs all so intoxicating, so much so that you donât even realize youâve beaten the highest score in the system by the time he loses his last life.Â
âWhat?â you blink. âWhat the hell?!â
You laugh, spinning to face Jisung whoâs grinning from ear to ear. In your excitement, you jump, flinging your arms around his neck. Heâs surprised, but catches you nonetheless, circling his arms around your waist.
âHoly shit howâd you do that!â you squeal while he swings you around, feet off the ground.
âMagic, I guess.â he chuckles.Â
The closeness of his voice brings you crashing back down, suddenly aware of what position youâre both in. You pull back quickly, clear your throat, and watch as his face falls from the loss of contact.
Itâs been a long time since you hugged Jisung. The thought transports you to that day four years ago, standing under the apple tree, the future uncertain. Forever promised.
Things are different now.
âSorry,â he backtracks. âI didnâtâ um, I wasnât trying toââ
You cut him off by throwing yourself at him for a second time. Intentional. Breathless. Tired of running and acting like itâs not the thing you want most in the entire world.
Jisung doesnât react until he feels your face against the skin of his neck. On instinct, he hugs tight, hands around your waist, breathing in the smell of your hair.
âHi.â you whisper against him.Â
One word. Simple. However the weight of it sends a chill down his spine. It feels like home.Â
He tightens his hold. A silent understanding. The two of you never had much of a need for words anyways.Â
âHi.â he whispers back.
The apple tree is much bigger now.
Long, thick branches, a wide trunk, a slight tilt in its shape.
Itâs bare. The season is long gone. But itâs okay, because it means that the view of the stars isnât blocked when you and Jisung lay beneath it.
Itâs the same but it isnât. Thereâs gapsâ periods of time where the two of you grew separately. There are moments and memories tucked away that neither of you know about, whole lives to discover.Â
But even so, it feels right. His arm wrapped around you, your head on his chest. The stars and the moon. You and Jisung.
Itâs nice. Perfect, even. But thereâs a conversation that needs to be had. One that canât be put off any longer.
âJi.â
âHm?â
âCan I ask you something?â
Jisung shifts beneath you, tightening his hold. The grass is damp. Neither of you care, too caught up in each other to stress about whether or not itâll stain.
âOf course.â
âAm I ever gonna see you again?â
He takes a deep breath. âYes.â
âYou said that last time.â
âI know.â
âSo what makes this different?â you ask, sitting up. He watches you carefully, eyes trained on every movement like heâs scared youâll get up and run away.
When he realizes youâre waiting for an answer, he sits up too, pulls his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around his legs.Â
He doesnât say anything, just wordlessly reaches into his pocket. Silently, he hands whatever he grabbed to you. A guitar pick.
Itâs white, a marbled design. Golden flecks infused into the lines. There, on the front, is a singular marigold. When you flip it over, youâre met with a tulip.Â
âDo you remember that one time, when you called me crying at midnight because Nana told you that she didnât know if sheâd be able to afford school in the city?â
You nod silently, still turning the guitar pick over in your hand.Â
It was one of those nights where the rain was relentless. Monsoon season always tagged on to the tail end of the school year, bringing with it a more intense gloominess than usual.Â
Youâd been angry. Stressed. Irritated that other kids at school were making plans to go to the mainland for college and you were stuck helping your grandmother trim foliage and wrap vases in newspaper.
âYou told me that you couldnât do it anymore.â Jisung whispered, staring up at the sky. âThat you were tired of being here. That you needed to get out.â
You remember. Jisung had walked through the rain to show up at your window. Had climbed in with muddy shoes and sat on the floor of your room with you until the downpour stopped and your tears dried.
âAnd I said that I would make it happen, that I would invent a way to live amongst the stars so you could be as far from here as possible.â
âSo what?â you ask, looking at him. âDid you finally do it, then? Is that why you came back?â
âDonât be like that.â
âNo, Jisung, Iâm gonna fucking be like that.â you scoff, rising to your feet.Â
Thereâs a fire in your veins, stoked until the embers are burning hot against your throat. Too good to be true. You shouldâve known that there was no explanation left for him to give.
Jisung scrambles to his feet. âIt wasnât like I wanted toââ
âOh like hell you did.â you say, turning to face him. âFour years, Jisung. I waited four years and you justâ you come back and decide to tell me about some make-believe bullshit to save yourself and feel less guilty about the fact that you left.â
âIt wasnât make-believe to me,â he argues. âIt was real. Everything I said was real. I left and I tried for years to make something of myself so I could come back here and get you.â
âOh so itâs my fault? I made you leave, is that it?â
âThatâs not what I said.â
âSo then say something else!â you yell. The stars rumble, threatening to fall out of the sky. âSay something else, then, Jisung. Why didnât you call? Huh?â
âBecause Iââ he stops, licks his lips. âGod. Fuck. I couldnât face you if I had nothing to show for myself, okay? It wasnât fair to you for me to leave you behind just so I could fail.â
âHa!â you laugh, running a hand through your hair in disbelief. âSo you decided to go radio silent instead? Decided to not only leave me alone but let me suffer and wonder about where you were because thatâs so much better than telling me that you were struggling, right? Great choice, Jisung. Really.â
He blinks a few times, watching as you pace back and forth in the grass.Â
Anger bubbles deep in your gut. This whole time, he knew. It was a conscious decision. Jisung deliberately didnât contact you because he chose not to.
âDid you ever even love me?â
The words tumble out before you can stop them. Jisungâs entire body goes rigid, his face falling and eyes hardening within a fraction of a second.
âWatch what you say.â he says, his voice low in his chest.
âI wouldnât have to if youâd just be honest.â
âIâm trying.â he pleads. His eyes are glossy. Big and round behind his glasses. Illuminated by the moon.Â
âI fucked up, okay? I prioritized myself and the way I felt over you and fucked everything up. But I tried. I tried so fucking hard. And Iâm sorry it took me so long but I wantedâ noâ I needed to make sure that I had everything figured out before I came back. I promised I would.â
âNo, Jisung, you promised me thatââ
âIâm not talking about you.â he says then, taking a deep breath. âYou werenât the only one I made promises to back then.â
Before you have a chance to speak, Jisung says, âI promised her. I told her Iâd get you out of here. That Iâd give you a life that you deserved, because she knew she couldnât.â
You drop to your knees when the first sob hits, the force of it racking your body so hard you feel like youâre drowning. Jisung catches you on the fall, holds you up, lets you bury your face into his neck like he had so many times before.
âShe told me you believed in forever. She wanted me to give that to you. Iâm sorry it took me so long.â
Jisung lets you cry. He holds you through the storm, your wails as loud as thunder and tears as heavy as rain. Four years in the making; the sky and the earth colliding until the dirt and layers of sediment give way to the molten core thatâs been hiding beneath the surface all along.
Pain. Grief. All of it pent up and leading to this moment.Â
âYou shouldâve told me.â you cry, beating a fist into Jisungâs chest. âYou idiot. You fucking idiot. You shouldâve told me.âÂ
Jisung pulls you in closer, takes each hit as long as it means that itâll soften the blow on your heart. He whispers apologies in your ear, runs a hand through your hair.Â
When it quiets again, the worst of the storm gone, he shifts so that your head is in his lap, his legs crossed and tucked beneath him. A few stray tears wet the fabric of his jeans, your eyes focused on the field of flowers across the street.
âI wonât ask you to come with me.â he says after a long while, when your breathing has evened out. âI know that things are different. You have a life here that youâve made for yourself, responsibilities to bear as well.â
He pauses to push a few strands of hair out of your face. His fingers are gentle against the skin of your cheek.
âBut I promise itâll be different. I spent too long away from you, was too selfish for my own good. I wonât disappear again. Iâll call every day. Iâll visit. Youâll get every part of me that I kept away from you all this time, and Iâll get every part of you in return.â
Your heart thrums. The thought of having what youâve wanted for so long. Of having Jisung.
âAnd when youâre ready, when you feel like you canât do it anymore, thereâll be a place for you.â
His voice is firm. Confident. More sure than heâs ever sounded before in his life.
When you turn to face him, heâs already staring back. Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the offer to make it yours.
Under the apple tree, Jisung leans down and kisses you for the first time. Twenty four years in the making, soft and slow, his lips a perfect fit against yours. A starboy and his flower girl. His glow is so bright it makes blossoms sprout from her fingertips.
Soft curls tickle your eyelids when he pulls away to rest his forehead against yours. You reach up to run a hand through them, smiling softly when he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose.Â
âI love you.â you say first this time.Â
He reaches out a hand, closes it over your fist thatâs still clutching the guitar pick. A marigold and a tulip, both working together to make a perfect harmony.Â
âI love you, too.â Jisung whispers back. âForever.â
Jisung stops by the shop early to say goodbye.
Thereâs less tears this time, less of a reason to be sad. But still, when he wraps his arms around you, vanilla filling your nose and curls against your face, you feel your composure crumble.
âEvery day.â he says, repeating the same thing he did all night. âI promise. Morning and night. Also at lunch. Oh, and on your days off. Matter of fact, you can call when youâre on the toilet too.â
The last part earns him an elbow to the ribs, his laughter bubbling up and out of his throat as he tries to dodge any and all subsequent attacks.
He kisses you stupid before he goes, Chan rolling his eyes from his car out front. You flip him off blindly, Jisungâs lips still attached to yours, earning a loud honk in response.
When he leaves, the shop is quiet, the only sound being the buzzing of your phone as Jisung blows it up with text messages the second the car pulls away.
Youâre too busy replying, giggling to yourself when a slew of cute emoticons start appearing one by one, that you nearly fall over out of your chair when Hyunjin bursts through the door.
âJesus Christ Hyune, did you have toââ
âWhat the hell are you doing here?â he asks, breathless.Â
âUh,â you blink, glancing round. âWorking?â
âIs Jisung not on a damn plane right now?â
âI mean heâs on his way to the airport. Chan isââ
âChan hyung told me that Jisung wanted you to go with him.â Hyunjin says, brow furrowed.
You sigh. âHe didnât want me to go with him. Well, okay, he did. But I told him I canât just pick up and leave. He knows that. Nana left this place to me andââ
âYou are so stupid.â Hyunjin sighs.Â
âExcuse me?â you ask. You stand up, crossing your arms as you walk closer to the counter.Â
âCome on. We have to go.â
âGo where, Hyunjin? Iâm not leaving toââ
He cuts you off, places an envelope on the wooden surface. âAnd I am not letting you stay here and pretend that this is what you want.â
âWhat is that?âÂ
âA plane ticket.â he says, pushing it towards you. âTo Seoul.â
Your mouth opens and closes, lost for words. Hyunjin is already moving around the counter, pushing past you with an expression the most serious youâve ever seen on him.
âHyunjin Iâ I canâtâ where did you evenâŠ?â
âChan hyung has a friend.â he mumbles as he begins pulling stuff out of the office. Your planning notebook, your apron, the picture of your grandma off the wall. All of it thrown into a small box he managed to snag from somewhere off to the side.
âHis name is Seungmin or something. Met him out in the tourist hub. Dudeâs super rich with tons of miles and apparently owed Chan for a drunken night where he needed to be escorted to his hotel. So thanks to him, youâre leaving.â he explains as he grabs the box with both hands and starts walking towards the door.
âWait.â you stop him, watching as he turns to regard you with a look that says his patience is running thin.Â
âI told you I canât leave, Hyunjin. This place is where I need to be.â
He huffs, places the box on the ground in front of him. His hair falls in waves around his face, a shimmery dark brown beneath the rays of the sun poking into the room.Â
âCan you be honest with me?â he asks.Â
You nod, slowly.Â
âDo you love him?â
Hyunjin watches you with careful eyes. Reads you like a book, something heâs always been good at. You donât doubt that itâs written on your face. Star-kissed cheeks and eyes as bright as marigolds.Â
âSo much that it hurts, Hyune.â
Hyunjin smiles, eyes watery. âThen you deserve to go. You deserve your chance to be free. Donât worry about this place, Iâll take care of it.â
The familiar sting of tears sits behind your eyes. Your heart swells full of love for this friend, this light, this beacon of unconditional love in the shape of your best friend.
âI donât have clothes.â you manage to say around the lump in your throat.
Hyunjin shakes his head, tears spilling down the bridge of his nose.Â
âIâll send them to you.â
âThereâs a lot to do around here for just one person. What if you need me?â
âIâll manage.âÂ
You round the corner quickly, throwing yourself into his chest. He catches you with ease, wraps his arms around your body as the both of you cry into each other.
âIâll miss you.â you say weakly.
Hyunjinâs throat bobs against the top of your head. âIâll always be here in our little corner of the world.â
The two of you stay like that for a while. Hyunjinâs warmth seeps into your skin, lights you ablaze. By the time he pulls away, his hands on your shoulders, you feel like youâre floating. Unreal.
âI donât have a way to get there.â you say quickly, glancing at the clock.Â
Jisungâs plane leaves soon. The airport, the only one on the island, is a thirty minute drive. Youâre at a disadvantage the more time you spend not moving.Â
âDonât worry,â Hyunjin chuckles. âIâve got that taken care of.â
You open your mouth to ask him what he means when youâre cut off by the sound of honking from outside. Confused, you run to the door, your jaw dropping as soon as you realize whoâs waiting for you.
âHurry up people we donât have all day!â Jeongin calls, his upper body hanging out of the window. Heâs parked outside in a beat-up truck, arms waving wildly when he spots you.
âInnie!â you scream, pushing through the door to run at him. He jumps out of the truck just in time for you to barrel into his chest, laughter loud in your ears as he spins you around.Â
âYouâre here! Oh my god I thought you werenât coming for another two weeks.â you say in disbelief once he puts you down.
He looks older, more sophisticated. His hair is rusted and falls past his ears, the ends just barely touching his shoulders.Â
âYeah, well,â he shrugs. âI figured Iâd show up earlier. You know, see you before you leave, catch up with my parents, help Hyunjin break into your house. The usual.â
âHelp Hyunjin break into my whatââ you say, but you stop when your eyes fall on the small suitcase in the backseat. Your own bag, the one thatâs been sitting in your closet untouched for years now.
âFor the last time,â Hyunjin says from behind you, carrying the box in his arms. âItâs not breaking and entering if I have a key. Which, by the way, I told you would come in handy one day.â
He sets the box down next to the luggage and dusts his hands on his pants. When he turns to face you, heâs smiling, eyes disappearing into crescent moons.
With tears threatening to spill once again, you stare at the both of them, your heart bursting at the seams. âI love you guys.â
Jeongin grimaces, opts for getting back in the driverâs seat as you laugh. Hyunjin rolls his eyes and ushers you inside of the truck.
âYeah, yeah. Save it.â he says. âRight now, you have a plane to catch.â
The airport is crowded.Â
There are tons of people everywhere, some saying hello and some saying goodbye. Hyunjin explained the gate system to you before you left him and Jeongin on the curb, and you keep glancing down at your ticket to make sure none of the information has changed in the past thirty seconds since you last looked.Â
Thankfully, your gate isnât far. With twenty minutes to go until boarding, you can feel the sweat building up beneath the hand thatâs curled around your suitcase handle.Â
Itâs scary thinking about the fact that this is it. That youâre finally leaving.Â
Itâs bittersweet, too. Thereâs an excitement in the pit of your stomach as well as a feeling of dread in your chest, both of them meeting in the middle somewhere.Â
You let your eyes scan the crowd, searching for wavy hair and thick-rimmed glasses. However, the first thing you see is the familiar neck of a guitar, strapped right on to a back that you would know and recognize anywhere without warning.
Jisung is seated near the gate, his eyebrows furrowed and lips set in a pout as he glares down at his phone. You realize that heâs probably wondering why you wonât answer, why all of his emoticons are going ignored.Â
Quietly, you come up behind him, reach into your pocket, and say, âExcuse me? I think you dropped this.â
Jisung startles, his eyes falling on to the guitar pick being held out in your hand. Slowly, he lets his gaze follow upwards, wide-eyed and shocked.
âWhatâ what are you doing here?â he asks.Â
You place the pick in his hand. âI'm on my way to Seoul. Thereâs a guy there that Iâve been trying to find for a while.â you say.Â
Jisung catches on quickly. âOh, really?â he asks, moving over so you can sit beside him. âThis guy must be pretty great if youâre leaving for the mainland.â
The rain starts hitting the tarmac outside right as you sit down. âHm, yeah. He is. He really likes the stars. He says that he found a way for me to live in them, too.âÂ
He laughs, the sound making your stomach flip. âSounds like youâre excited.â
You nod. âI am. He promised me that weâd do a lot together, experience new things. Apparently heâs gonna write songs and Iâm gonna be a nerd.â
Jisung snorts and reaches across to link his hand with yours.
âHeâs really lucky.â he says, leaning over to plant a kiss on your lips.
You smile into it. âSo am I.â you whisper into his mouth, your heart stuffed to the brim with flower petals.Â
And when Jisung smiles back, his other hand coming up to cup your cheek and give you another kiss with the force of a thousand suns, you feel the key youâd been searching for finally click into place.Â
Salt of the earth. Soil and stardust. A boy who glows so bright that his girl sprouts blossoms from her fingertips.Â
Forever isnât promised. But then again, with Jisung by your side, there are things you know for certain:
Itâs February. The tulips are in bloom. In Jejuâ it rains.
And no matter what, despite all odds, you and Jisung will always find your way back to each other in the place where marigolds grow.
[tags: @skzstarnet @snowyquokka @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny @drhsthl @strwbrrychannie @shays-library @giuliadesu @iknowyouknowminho @linocz @pynchkilledme @jisunglyricist @itsgghowitsgg @alician87 @skzms @meloncremesoda @ilychee08 @allaboutsan @legally-lixs @stayceebs97 @candyquokka @chans1aptop @liknws @realrintaro @beeracha @vxllxnsworld @feelikecinderella @caitxx1 @lilac13 @sebastianswhore13 @classiclitandmemes @hyunverse @linosazuna @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @bubbly-moon @cookiesandcreammy ]
#skzstarnet#han x reader#jisung x reader#han jisung x reader#han angst#jisung angst#han jisung angst#han fluff#han jisung fluff#jisung fluff#han au#han jisung au#jisung au#han imagines#han jisung imagines#jisung imagines#han scenarios#han jisung scenarios#jisung scenarios#skz fluff#skz angst#skz au#skz imagines#skz scenarios#han#han jisung#jisung#han fanfic#han jisung fanfic#han fanfiction
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My GIF Making process: Screen capturing using MPV player, Organizing files, 3 Sharpening settings, Basic Coloring PSD + Actions set
This is a very long post so heads up.
Iâll try to be as thorough and true as much as possible to the way I make my gifs (I already use Photoshop Actions which Iâve long since set up but now for this tutorial Iâm reviewing them to show you the exact steps Iâve learned to create my gifs đ) and present them to you in a semi-coherent way. Also, please bear with me since English is my second language.
First things first. Below are the things and tools we need to do this:
Downloaded 4K or 1080p quality videos (letâs all assume we know where to get theseâespecially for high definition movies and tv seriesâso this post doesnât get removed, okay? đ)
Adobe Photoshop CC or the CS versions can work as well, but full disclosure I havenât created gifs using the CS versions since 2020. Iâm currently using Adobe Photoshop 2024.
mpv player. Use mpv player to get those frames/screenshots or any other video player that has a screen grabber feature. Iâve used adapter for the longest time but Iâve switched to mpv because the press to screenshot feature while the video is playing has been a game changer not to mention ultimate time saver for me. For adapter you need to play it in another video player (like VLC player), to get the start and end timestamps of the scene you want to gif which takes me ages before I can even open Photoshop.
Anyway! Please stop reading this post for a moment and head over to this amazing tutorial by kylos. She perfectly tells you how to install and use mpv player, both for Mac and Windows users.
One thing I have to share though, I had a tough time when I updated my MacOS to Sonoma since MPV is suddenly either duplicating frames or when I delete the duplicates the player seems to be skipping frames :/ I searched and found a solution here, though it didnât work for me lol. My workaround for this in the meantime is decreasing the speed down to 0.70 then start screenshottingâitâs not the same pre Sonoma update but it works so Iâll have to accept it rather than have jumpy looking gifs.
Now, after this part of kylosâ tutorial:
you can continue reading the following sections of my gif tutorial below.
I want to share this little tip (sorry, this will only cater to Mac users) that I hope will be helpful for organizing the screenshots that MPV saved to the folder you have selected. Because believe me you donât want to go through 1k+ of screenshots to select just 42-50 frames for your gif.
The Control + Command + N shortcut
This shortcut allows you to create a new folder from files you have pre-selected. As you can see below I have already created a couple of folders, and inside each folder I have selected screenshots that I want to include in one single gif. It's up to you how you want to divide yours, assuming you intend to create and post a Tumblr gifset rather than just one gif.
Another tip is making use of tags. Most of, if not all the time, I make supercorp gifs so I tag blue for Kara and red (or green) for Lenaâjust being ridiculously on brand and all that.
Before we finally open Photoshop, there's one more thing I want to sayâI know, please bear with me for the third? fourth? time đ
It's helpful to organize everything into their respective folders so you know the total number of items/frames you have. This way, you can add or delete excess or unnecessary shots before uploading them in Photoshop.
For example below there are 80 screenshots of Kara inside this folder and for a 1:1 (540 x 540 px) Tumblr gif, Photoshop can just work around with 42-50 max number of frames with color adjustments applied before it exceeds the 10 MB file size limit of Tumblr.
Sometimes I skip this step because it can be exhausting (haha) and include everything so I can decide visually which frames to keep later on. You'll understand what I mean later on. But it's important to keep the Tumblr 10 MB file size limit in mind. Fewer frames, or just the right amount of frames, is better.
So, with the screenshot organization out of the way, let's finally head over to Photoshop.
Giffing in Photoshop, yay!
Letâs begin by navigating to File > Scripts > Load Files into StackâŠ
The Load Layers window will appear. Click the Browse button next.
Find your chosen screenshots folder, press Command + A to select all files from that folder then click Open. Then click OK.
After importing and stacking your files, Photoshop should display the following view:
By the way, I'll be providing the clip I've used in this tutorial so if want to use them to follow along be my guest :)
If you haven't already opened your Timeline panel, navigate to Windows > Timeline.
Now, let's focus on the Timeline panel for the next couple of steps.
Click Create Video Timeline, then youâll have this:
Now click the menu icon on the top right corner then go to Convert Frames > Make Frames from Clips
Still working on the Timeline panel, click the bottom left icon this timeâthe icon with the three tiny boxesâto Convert to Frame Animation
Select Make Frames From Layers from the top right corner menu button.
So now you have this:
Go and click the top right menu icon again to Select All Frames
Then click the small dropdown icon to set another value for Frame Delay. Select OtherâŠ
The best for me and for most is 0.05 but you can always play around and see what you think works for you.
Click the top right menu icon again to Reverse Frames.
I think Photoshop has long since fixed this issue but usually the first animation frame is empty so I just delete it but now going through all these steps there seems to be none of that but anyways, the delete icon is the last one among the line of feature buttons at the bottom part of the Timeline panel.
Yay, now we can have our first proper GIF preview of a thirsty Lena đ
Press spacebar to watch your gif play for the very first time! After an hour and half of selecting and cutting off screenshots! đ Play it some more. No really, Iâm serious. I do this so even as early (lol) as this part in the gif making process, I can see which frames I can/should delete to be within the 10 MB file size limit. You can also do it at the end of course đ
Now, letâs go to the next important steps of this tutorial post which Iâve numbered below.
Crop and resize to meet Tumblr's required dimensions. The width value should be either 540px, 268px, or 177px.
Convert the gif to a Smart Object for sharpening.
Apply lighting and basic color adjustments before the heavy coloring. I will be sharing the base adjustments layers I use for my gifs đ.
1. Crop and Resize
Click on the Crop tool (shortcut: the C key)
I like my GIFs big so I always set this to 1:1 ratio if the scene allows it. Press the Enter key after selecting the area of the frame that you want to keep.
Side note: If you find that after cropping, you want to adjust the image to the left or another direction, simply unselect the Delete Cropped Pixels option. This way, you will still have the whole frame area available to crop again as needed and as you prefer.
Now we need to resize our gif and the shortcut for that is Command + Opt + I. Type in 540 as the width measurement, then the height will automatically change to follow the ratio youâve set while cropping.
540 x 540 px for 1:1
540 x 405 px for 4:3
540 x 304 px for 16:9
For the Resample value I prefer Bilinearâbut you can always select the other options to see what you like best.
Click OK. Then Command + 0 and Command + - to properly view the those 540 pixels.
Now we get to the exciting part :) the sharpen settings!
2. Sharpen
First we need to have all these layers âcompressedâ intro a single smart object from which we can apply filters to.
Select this little button on the the bottom left corner of the Timeline panel.
Select > All Layers
Then go to Filter > Convert for Smart Filters
Just click OK when a pop-up shows up.
Now you should have this view on the Layers panel:
Now I have 3 sharpen settings to share but Iâll have download links to the Action packs at the end of this long ass tutorial so if you want to skip ahead, feel free to do so.
Sharpen v1
Go to Filter > Sharpen > Smart SharpenâŠ
Below are my settings. I donât adjust anything under Shadows/Highlights.
Amount: 500
Radius: 0.4
Click OK then do another Smart Sharpen but this time with the below adjustments.
Amount: 12
Radius: 10.0
As you can see Lenaâs beautiful eyes are âpopping outâ now with these filters applied. Click OK.
Now we need to Convert to Frame Animation. Follow the steps below.
Click on the menu icon at the top right corner of the Timeline panel, then click Convert Frames > Flatten Frames into Clips
Then Convert Frames > Convert to Frame Animation
One more click to Make Frames From Layers
Delete the first frame then Select All then Set Frame Delay to 0.05
and there you have it! Play your GIF and make sure itâs just around 42-50 frames. This is the time to select and delete.
To preview and save your GIF go to File > Export > Save for Web (Legacy)âŠ
Below are my Export settings. Make sure to have the file size around 9.2 MB to 9.4 MB max and not exactly 10 MB.
This time I got away with 55 frames but this is because I havenât applied lighting and color adjustments yet and not to mention the smart sharpen settings aren't to heavy so letâs take that into consideration.
Sharpen v1 preview:
Sharpen v2
Go back to this part of the tutorial and apply the v2 settings.
Smart Sharpen 1:
Amount: 500
Radius: 0.3
Smart Sharpen 2:
Amount: 20
Radius: 0.5
Weâre adding a new type of Filter which is Reduce Noise (Filter > Noise > Reduce Noise...) with the below settings.
Then one last Smart Sharpen:
Amount: 500
Radius: 0.3
Your Layers panel should look like this:
Then do the Convert to Frames Animation section again and see below preview.
Sharpen v2 preview:
Sharpen v3:
Smart Sharpen 1:
Amount: 500
Radius: 0.4
Smart Sharpen 2:
Amount: 12
Radius: 10.0
Reduce Noise:
Strength: 5
Preserve Details: 50%
Reduce Color Noise: 0%
Sharpen Details: 50%
Sharpen v3 preview:
And here they are next to each other with coloring applied:
v1
v2
v3
Congratulations, you've made it to the end of the post đ
As promised, here is the download link to all the files I used in this tutorial which include:
supercorp 2.05 Crossfire clip
3 PSD files with sharpen settings and basic coloring PSD
Actions set
As always, if you're feeling generous here's my Ko-fi link :) Thank you guys and I hope this tutorial will help you and make you love gif making.
P.S. In the next post I'll be sharing more references I found helpful especially with coloring. I just have to search and gather them all.
-Jill
#tutorial#gif tutorial#photoshop tutorial#gif making#sharpening#sharpening tutorial#photoshop#photoshop resources#psd#psd coloring#gif coloring#supercorp#supercorpedit#lena luthor#supergirl#my tutorial#this has been a long time coming#guys. i'm BEGGING you. use the actions set - it was a pain doing all this manually again ngl LMAO#i've been so used to just playing the actions#so this has been a wild refresher course for me too đ
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Demo Update (21/09/24)
đ¶Do you remember
The 21st night of September?đ¶
Demo link
Well, at least it's the night here. The update has come!
This one, coming in at ~67,000 words, continues Chapter 2, taking us very close to the end--but not quite. If you play, you'll see why, and perhaps curse me for my tendency for cliffhangers haha.
If I'm right, this is the biggest update so far, and it's taken a whiiiiile. It shouldn't have taken as long as it did, and I'm confident my next updates won't take nearly as long.
Even still, I'm sorry to say this isn't a wholly complete update. There will be sections missing, such as much of Sam's gift-showing path when you visit his home (sorry! I just got too focused on other things and didn't want to half-implement the scenes. Next update, for sure!) and many of the fair events. I hope this at least encourages some replaying when the time comes, as you'll need to do with this update.
Also included are some small tweaks to the prologue (again, I love tweaking. It's a curse) and various grammar/writing tweaks to the rest of the game. Of course, bugs and other errors are liable to appear in the new content, and I'd really appreciate if you could point those out to me, either in DMs or by other means, such as in the Bladeweaver Discord in our bug reporting threads! The discord link is in my intro post, for anybody curious.
I'd also like to give myself a little round of applause for Bladeweaver hitting 20,000 plays on itch! That's 20,000 more plays than I was really hoping for haha.
I normally put a little summary of what you can expect to find in my updates, but have opted to leave that out for this one. You'll probably understand why soon enough.
I hope you enjoy reading. :)
#bladeweaver#announcement#bladeweaver if#interactive fiction#if wip#twine game#twine if#interactive fiction demo#interactive fiction update#update
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say you'll see me again
epilogue âą series masterlist
pairing: Dave York x f!reader
word count: 789 (it's a smol one)
tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, somewhat unhealthy relationship dynamics (in the past), daddy issues (readerâs dad sucks big time), able-bodied reader, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, angst, but also... nice things :)
a/n: co-written with my angel @joelscurls, i love you <3
this is me officially saying goodbye to these two babies and i'm extremely emotional about it. i loooooved writing this story, it has brought me so much joy, it's my favorite thing that i've created and they really mean the world to me.
this story has received so much love and i'm beyond grateful for everyone who has read, liked, commented or reblogged <3 i hope you like this ending as much as i do.
follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for updates and find jessâ masterlist here and my masterlist here :)
dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics đ€
No oneâs there to cheer you on at your graduation ceremony, no one to sit in the audience and clap when your name is being called and you walk across the stage. You didnât invite anyone.Â
A small part of you, the part that still feels like the 12 year old girl who thought that her father would love her if she only tried hard enough, had hoped that somehow he would know anyway. Would show up to surprise you.Â
Itâs less of a surprise that he didnât.Â
When you accept the certificate with your name on it, it gives you a grim sense of satisfaction. Youâve done it on your own. On your own terms, with your own money.
Your father had all but thrown you out of the house after seeing you leave on the security camera footage mere hours after heâd declared that you were grounded. Itâs been a challenge, adjusting to the lack of his financial aid, getting by entirely on your own. It also felt like freedom, like you were finally able to breathe.Â
You swallow down the bitterness that stings in your chest and rises up your throat when you watch your classmates, your friends, surrounded by their families. Proud smiles, hands on shoulders, long hugs. Fueling a longing thatâs been there for as long as you can remember. It wouldnât have been like that with your father anyway.Â
Youâre better off like this, with the person who, despite his insistent claims, is the one who actually brought you to this moment: Yourself.Â
The buildings of the town you were raised in are surrounding you, a familiar backdrop as you make your way down the street. You donât know why you felt the need to come here. Maybe you had to visit one last time, after leaving in a panicked rush, too hurt to dare to look back. Maybe you can say goodbye now, and your mind will stop torturing you with questions of what could have been, daydreams of scenarios that you wished had turned out differently. Maybe you can clear out the remains of the battlefield that it turned into, and finally make peace with it.Â
You had wished to be able to hate David. Hate him for not wanting you, hate him for pushing you away. Hate him for the way he changed you, for showing you a connection that you havenât been able to feel with anyone else. But you never could.Â
Itâs not hard to understand in hindsight, why making you leave seemed like the right thing to do for him. Looking back, you think that it actually was. Though that never made losing him hurt any less.Â
If anything, you wish you could hate him because the fact that he did the right thing makes you want him more.Â
The door shuts behind you and your eyes adjust to the dim light of the bar. Your shoes are sticky against the ground. Itâs a far cry from the country club you used to go to. But youâre also a far cry from the girl who used to go there. No black little designer dress on your body, no expensive heels clicking against the floor. And no fear. No fear of being ignored, no fear of being talked down to, no fear of having to make yourself small.Â
Youâre free to be yourself, now.Â
You walk towards the counter, hop up on one of the stools. It scratches against the wooden floor, mixing with the faint sound of rock music playing from a speaker in the corner.Â
Thereâs movement beside you, the silhouette of a man caught in the corner of your eye. The drum of his fingertips against the counter.Â
âEvening.âÂ
The wave of a memory builds up in your mind within moments, flooding your every thought. The smooth rumble of his voice. The shape of his face when you turn towards him. The strong nose, the hard line of his jaw, the permanent pout on his lips that you can still feel against yours when you try really hard to remember. The deep brown shade of his eyes that still means safety to you.Â
When thinking about him, you had always pictured him somewhere new, somewhere you couldnât reach him. It seems silly, now that heâs right here, like a piece falling into place. Of course heâs here.
Your lips pull up into a smile. No shyness, no worries of doing something that you shouldnât.Â
âHi.â
âIâve never seen you around here before,â he echoes back the first words youâve ever spoken to him. He remembers, just like you. Just like he said he would. Your smile grows wider.Â
Youâre free to be yourself, now.Â
...i'm trying really hard not to cry right now. if you enjoyed this, please consider letting me know <3
#dave york x reader#dave york#dave york fanfiction#dave york smut#the equalizer 2#dave york x you#dave york x female reader#dave york x f!reader#janas fics#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction
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the babbit masterpost
HELLO welcome to the Babbit's Blog masterpost!!! On this post you'll find some fun facts about yours allegedly (me <33), some ref's for my different 'sona's, and a couple links to my fics and whatnot! Are you ready? No?? Excellent neither am i let's do this
Meet the Babbits!: the self-inserts/personas
the first ref is for my general/most commonly used persona, Babbit! They aren't really an anthro/furry as much as they are a humanoid with the head of a rabbit. I like to think of this one as the 'me' that's in my head- the purest form of my thoughts and feelings, but not the solid real-life me. The second ref is my self-insert persona, Rabbit, the one i picture using most often when i'm reading a fic or imagining a self-insert scenario lol. This one is like the me that people see and meet and speak to in real actual life, if that makes sense. It's the way I come across to people and all of the things I wish I could iron out of my crumpled up real-self <3 The third is a much more specific 'sona, Hazel, who started off as a FNaF:SB animatronic self-insert. She does have a backstory and lore now, which i think makes her more of an OC than a self-insert, but a lot of her is still me and a lot of what she experiences in her backstory is from my life/instills the same feelings that were taken away from things that happened to me, so I think she kinda counts enough to put a ref for her here sdkjfsdhfj (Why the different names?: makes things a little easier, and they hold meaning to me symbolically, I guess!)
Content!: Here's a short list of my various fics that will get updated as I create more! (it was, in reality, not fine.): FNaF Sun/Moon x Reader fanfic, gender neutral, for general audiences, fluff-fest, idiots to lovers "You're the new tech/repairman at the Fazbear Mega Pizzaplex, unfortunately. Your first task? To make the Daycare Attendant into two separate animatronics. It's an amazing opportunity, really, and there is nothing you love more than getting a chance to really work with such tech! The only bad part is that you don't know how to tell anyone that you just might be in over your head. (You are extremely in over your head.)" After Everything Was Fixed (but you were still broken): AU FNaF Sun/Moon x (Animatronic) Reader, gender neutral, read with caution, angst, harm to sentient robots, traumatized main character, hurt/comfort slow burn, romance slow burn "The virus was gone. Everyone was fixed. You had been put back together. It's a time for a new beginning, to do things right this time, to wash away the past and paint a better future. Their memories of the infection had- mercifully- been taken away from them. Yours had not. He doesn't understand why you try to avoid him. Even if you could tell him, you're not sure you would. You want to be his friend, but it's difficult; every time you see him, you remember the hundreds of times he killed you." A fic where you are a repairman-themed STAFFbot, taking place post-virus. In the past, Moon, infected by the virus, took delight in attacking and dismantling the reader during the night. Now, in the present, you find yourself burdened by the memories of the past while everyone around you has no recollection of the events. It gets more complicated as Sun and Moon, both now cleared of the virus, grow curious of you. This fic will follow a series of arcs, presently on arc one. For anyone curious, feel free to send an ask about the arcs in 'After Everything Was Fixed'! The Sun, the Moon, and the Blazing Comet (title subject to change): AU FNaF Sun/Moon/Eclipse x Reader, gender neutral, teen and up audiences, travel/journey, betrayal, hurt/comfort slowburn, reconciling, themes of breaking the mold, found family (TBA) Hold My Broken Hands (title subject to change): AU FNaF Sun/Moon x Reader, gender neutral, mature audiences, dark romance, dark comedy, severe bodily harm, mutilation, murder, obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, lovesick (TBA)
My AU's!: i'm going to make a Babbit-AUs-Masterpost and then put the link here i swear, i just have so many im sorry jdfhsjdfhs (like more than twenty)
Fandoms!: I enjoy, have been in, made or make content for: Pokemon Undertale FNaF Creepypasta (YEAH I KNOW LET ME LIVE OKAY) My Little Pony (I KNOW OKAY LEAVE ME ALONE) Steven Universe Star Trek Warrior Cats i'm sure theres more but i just forgot everything i have ever liked wheeeeeze
Whomst the hell?: HI I'm Rabbit! Or Bones! Or Babbit! Or Avarice/Ava, if you want to go for a more legitimate-sounding name. I'm 24 years old, prefer to use they/them pronouns, and so, so incredibly ace. I've been drawing as long as I've had the ability to hold a pen, writing since I was in grade school, and being a plague to the ones around me since the beginning of time! If you've seen my art, its probably from the absolute mountain of fluffy-wuffy love-dovey (y/n) x Sundrop/Moondrop/Eclipse doodles I've been sharing for several years now sdfjhsdj. If you've heard of my fics, it was probably the one I made just for fun that's now turned into an actual fanfiction that I enjoy writing, the silly-lovey-fluff incarnate (it was, in reality, not fine.) !
Likes n Dislikes!: I'm a sucker for sap, fluff, and lots and lots of love-dovey bullshit! I also like stories about finding oneself and monsters being befriended or loved. I like space, aliens, robots, the odd and strange, injecting humanity into things not human, monsters, creatures, animals, the fae, concepts of spirits and karma and the afterlife, and more! I dislike 'fanservice', most anime tbh LOL it's not personal I just don't enjoy it im srry, FLY BABIES i know they have an actual name but i hate that word too pls just dont i will scream, sexually aggressive/forceful content/characters, being made to feel small, dumb, or trapped,
Other!: I have a pretty high gross-out tolerance! I also have a pretty high 'wow that's messed up huh' tolerance, in that sometimes I will just say stuff that's super grim or dark or messed up and not realize it lmao. I am full of random facts and anecdotes, especially weird or gross ones! sometimes i get on tangents that can go for actual hours so pls forgive that lol
WARNINGS: THIS BLOG MAY FEATURE CONTENT BASED ON/RELATED TO THEMES OF GUILT, CHILDHOOD LOSS, GRIEF, SELF HATRED, DISCONNECTION FROM REALITY/SELF, TRAUMA, AND SEVERE DEPRESSION/ANXIETY. YES I AM GETTING HELP. YES I AM OKAY. THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE AND UNDERSTANDING.
bonus persona: crybaby
#meet the artist#meet the blogger#about me#self insert oc#oc persona#about the author#about the blogger#meet the babbit#oh shit its babbit#babbit lore#the babbit masterpost#oc reference#self insert reference#oc ref sheet#art ref#oc babbit#babbits ocs: babbit#babbits ocs: rabbit#babbits ocs: hazel#hazel the happy hare#fnaf oc#babbits ocs: crybaby#bones of a rabbit#links#babbit masterpost
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Love Me Like A Rockstar (9)
ăŒâ Chapter 9: You (Show Me Where My Days Went)
Author: bvidzsoo
Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader
ăŒâ Warning: cursing ăŒâ Word count: 9.8k ăŒâ Genre: university!au, enemies to lovers!au, rockstar!au ăŒâ Rating: sfw ăŒâ Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?
A/N: Hi, lovelies!! LMLAR is BACK!! I am sooo happy I could finally update and just write, y'all have no idea! I am so sorry for making you wait so long for this update, but finishing my thesis was super important! I still have to study and such this month, but I promise next update won't take as long as this one did! (I'm writing other stories too while writing this one, so that kinda backfires sometimes lol) I am forever grateful that you are patient and stick around for the new chapters, this story is so dear to me you wouldn't even believe it. I am also super grateful and happy whenever you leave feedback, so please, keep on doing just that!<3 This chapter only exists because I was randomly inspired, and I'd like to apologize if it's a little rusty, I always have to get in "character" when I write this story lol. I am soo excited for next chapter, I think it's going to surprise you hehe. PLS PLS imagine that airport look from Mingi when reading this chapter, the pics from the moodboard, you'll see during which part! I also have a very small surprise at the end of this chapter hehe. I hope the time jumps aren't too confusing:(( Please, listen to the song called You before or while reading! Enough yapping, I hope you enjoy and leave feedback! (Taglist is always open for those interested! ^^)
Taglist: @orshii @or5i @lovely-red2 @scarfac3 @juicy-red @sunaswifes-blog @voicesinmyhead-rc @teez-the-time @maru-matt @kyeos4ng @deathbyyeekies @chicksmoothie @mjlbn01 @xhexy @tmtxtf @hwashiningstar @thatfavouritesong @ateez-atiny380
âšSeries M.list â Previous Chapterâ©
â«Playlistâ«
Later that day
I hate him: heyâŠjust checking in that I got home safely what are u up to?
I blinked, fingers tightening around my phone before I locked it, leaving the message on unread. My motherâs shuffling outside my door caught my attention, bringing a smile onto my lips as I watched her struggle while bringing all the dirty laundry to the bathroom. Then, I got off my bed to go help her.
Friday (11:30 am)
I hate him: i see u still havenât checked my message⊠nothing too worrisome u certainly know how to make a man yearn for you lol that was a jokeâŠdont freak out on me pls (lowkey true tho)
Friday (12:50 pm)
I hate him: lol, wooyoung has been bitching about seulgiâs professor for half an hour now mr. kwon u know him? i meanâŠi suppose he also teaches u i should take a sneaky video for uâŠwooyoung looks like a clown hanging upside down my bed and pouting like a damn child too (dont say im also one, thanks)
Friday (15:26 pm)
I hate him: wellâŠik my messages are going through so uh⊠why tf are u ignoring me???! *cries and dies in loneliness* entertain me dollll!!! im so bored pls ohâŠu said u had an important assignmentâŠi bet uâre busy with that sorry for spamming u (text back tho when uâre done, im dying hereâŠwooyoung is with seulgi and so is seonghwa with hongjoongâŠthe single life sucks, bestieâŠlets be single and depressed together<3)
My jaw clenched as I heaved a long sigh, falling back on my bed as the sun shone brightly through my open window, the light breeze making me shiver as I only wore a t-shirt and sweats. Autumn was slowly turning into winter; the weather wasnât so warm anymore. I threw another look at my phone, unlocked it, and stared at the received messages from Mingi for a second before finally deciding to delete them from my notification center, rolling over in bed to muffle a frustrated scream into my soft, and purple, pillow.
           Saturday (9:09 am)
I hate him: i had the weirdest dream and im not even sure i want to tell u about it LOL but uhâŠa grisly was chasing me??? and then u appeared on a fucking white horse like a prince LOL and threatened to likeâŠslay it if it didnt leave me alone??? honestlyâŠwhat a slay, bestie good morning, btw, doll hope u had a better nightâs sleep than me (and dreamed of me ehehehe)
           Saturday (17:40 pm)
I hate him: i cant believe i allowed myself to be fooled like this back in highschool yuyu and i used to play baseball for shits and giggles and hongjoong (that rich prick) rented a whole ass baseball field for us for the afternoon and let us play with some of his (rich af) friends and uh⊠i think i wont be able to walk straight for another week with how much running i did⊠hongjoong kept scoring homerunsâŠi wish yuyu was here to kick his loser ass (dont tell hwa or hong i said that PLS) yo dollâŠeverythingâs alright with u? uh uâŠreally havent answered me since⊠ykâŠi stayed over and waited for the rain to stop⊠have i done something wrong?
I sighed and put my phone on âdo not disturbâ, suddenly having lost all of my appetite as I forced the rest of the lettuce down my throat. My mother was sipping her kiwi and apple smoothie, eyes narrowed as she muttered to herself while trying to memorize the recipe of a dessert for later. Desserts were never her forte, unfortunately.
âIs it Seulgi?â She asked absentmindedly as I took a large gulp of my own smoothie, staring down at my salad, steak pushed to the side in my plate.
âHuh?â I asked distracted, eyes still glued to the dark screen of my phone.
âTexting you, your phone keeps buzzing, my starlight.â I rolled my eyes at the nickname, but didnât bother to comment on it. I took a peek at my mother and her eyes were narrowed at me already, video on YouTube paused. Fuck, I had to answer her now or else sheâd pester me all day long. And that would be a nightmare.
âYeah, itâs Seulgi.â I lied, trying to make my voice sound convincing.
âWell, answer her then, donât be rude.â My mother chastised me, pressing play on her video again, pursing her lips as she shook her head at whatever the man baking was saying.
âLater.â I whispered, biting my lower lip as my eyes remained glued to my phone, stomach clenching and heart dropping.
But I couldnât.
           Sunday (1:01 am)
I hate him: âŠyouâre ignoring me, arent u? im sorry, y/n, i dont know what i did wrong, but we can talk about it weâre friends, after allâŠright?
ăWhen you came along, I knew what was wrong
If you want to know exactly what I've missedă
           Monday (present time)
           It truly would have been a missed opportunity if Seulgi and I wouldnât have grabbed coffee and went to sit in our usual spot in the back garden. The campus of our University was huge and that was perfect, because it meant people migrated and didnât stay in one spot for longâat least long enough to irritate me to no end. Last week deemed to be rather rough, and I still didnât feel like completely myself. To be honest, I thought about staying home todayâand for the rest of the weekâbut I couldnât afford missing any of my classes as exam period was slowly nearing, and so, I had to force my ass out of the house this morning before my mother could come and nag me about my weirdly unusual broody mood that has been going on for the past few days.
I hummed as I took a sip of my sweet coffee, enjoying the taste of warm caramel as Seulgi sighed loudly next to me, both hands cupped around her own coffee cup. The scent of cinnamon wafted from her cup and I scrunched up my nose, not too fond of the ingredientâs smell. Our classes started early in the morning today and weâd be here for at least four more hours, caffeine seemed like our only hope to stay awake and aware at this point. Given the fact that my baffling thoughts kept me up all night yesterday, I felt grateful that I was still on my feet at two oâclock at noon. As Seulgi fidgeted again, I chuckled and finally turned my head to look at her. She had a sheepish look on her face, and I tried not to laugh as I knew she was bursting to tell me all about her date with Wooyoung on Saturday.
âWell,â I started as I took a sip of my coffee, prolonging the suspense for her, âhow did your date go?â
âIt was amazing!â I had barely finished asking as Seulgi exclaimed, her cheeks turning rosyâand it wasnât due to the cold air, âWooyoung isâeverything I thought he would be. Heâs sweet and up for anything, he makes me laugh until I feel like passing out, and thereâs just never a dull moment with him, you know?â
âOne would expect that from him.â I muttered against my cup, laughing as Seulgi nudged my side, not looking too happy with my comment, âOh, come on, it would be hard for Wooyoung to be different than the way he mostly presents himself; donât you think?â
Seulgi grumbled something against her cup as she lightly bit into the carton, shooting me a pointed stare, âWell, yes, butâŠhe makes me happy. Treats me well and all that, you know, heâs the perfect embodiment of what a boyfriend should be like.â
âBoyfriend, huh?â I teased with a smirk, wriggling my eyebrows at my best friend as her cheeks flushed an even darker color as she bit her lower lip, trying to mask the huge grin expanding on her lips. But as soon as I started giggling, Seulgi also broke out in a fit of giggles, hiding herself behind her wavy hair, pressing her cup of coffee against her face.
âGod, Iâm so down bad for him, Y/N, I donât think youâd understand.â She mused, voice airy as she threw her head back, leaning back against the back of the bench. I chuckled and took another sip of my drink.
âMaybe Iâd do.â I muttered, memories of my relationship with Yunho resurfacing. Thankfully, however, I managed to repress them as quickly as they came. They didnât feel so gut-wrenching anymore, and to my surprise, didnât leave a bitter taste in its wake either. What has changed? Certainlyâcertainly getting closer to his best friend didnât influence the way I feel about Yunho, right? Right.
âSo,â I glanced at Seulgi from the corner of my eyes as she swung her legs, looking down at her feet in the process, âhow are you?â
âFine, why?â I asked confused, angling my body to face Seulgi better.
âYouâve beenâŠdistant the whole weekend. I could barely reach you.â Seulgiâs voice sounded small and I gulped, feeling bad for making her worry about me, âYou knowâŠthe last time you pulled away and disappeared, it was bad.â
âI promise you I am doing completely fine, Seulgi, youâd be the first person to know if I was in a bad headspace again, alright?â I reached out and grabbed her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. Seulgi sighed and then raised her head to look at me, lips pulled into a thin line.
âPromise?â
âOf course, I promise.â I smiled at her warmly and she hummed in contentment, squeezing my hand back as she took a sip of her coffee. I followed suit before removing my hand from hers to fiddle with my half empty cup, âIâm just dealing with some things right now. I think Iâm confused.â
âAbout what?â Seulgi asked curiously, leaning closer as I continued to avoid eye contact with her.
âIâll tell you once I have my thoughts sorted about it.â I chuckled, making Seulgi roll her eyes in displeasure.
âYou know, I tell you absolutely everything about myself and how I fell, and you always shut me out and tell me how you felt about a situation when itâs been over for years.â Seulgi pouted, narrowing her eyes at me, âHowâs that fair, Y/N?â
âHey, we work differently, donât try to guilt trip me now.â I chuckled and took a sip of my coffee, making Seulgi roll her eyes, âAnyways, what did you do on your date with Wooyoung?â
âWe went to the cinema,â Seulgiâs face lit up once again, grinning from ear to ear, âHe bought me roses, a big bouquet. And after the movie we went for a walk and ended up stargazing in his cabriolet. It was really romantic.â
I smiled, feeling happy for my friend, she deserved someone like Wooyoung, âThat actually sounds really amazingâŠand romantic.â
âOh, my God, are you really Y/N? Where is my friend that hates anything that has to do with romance, cute stuff, and love?!â Seulgiâs shocked face was mocking and I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms in front of my chest as I leaned back against the back of the bench.
âI donât hate it, Iâm just not a huge fan of all of those things, okay?!â I shrugged, letting my arms fall from my chest as I pushed them inside my coatâs pockets.
âWhoâs the culprit?â When I raised my eyebrows at Seulgi, a sign that I didnât understand her question, she chuckled and leaned closer, âWhoâs the man thatâs changing your views on life, huh?â
âMan?â I asked with a scoff, giving Seulgi a deadpanned expression, âDoes it always have to be about a man? Canât it be just the fact that I had a change of mind?â
âSure, because of someone.â Seulgi had a smug look on her face, acting as if she won the argument. But there was no argument here and she had no idea what she was talking about.
âWhateverââ But I got cut off as her phone dinged loudly. Seulgi, very comically, scrambled to reach for her phone and as she opened it up, a wide grin stretched onto her lips. It didnât take two braincells to realize who had texted her, and thus, I chuckled and turned my head. I sipped my coffee, taking in my environment while Seulgi answered her boyfriend, giggling quietly every now and then.
The campus was finally silent and not as busy as it usually was in the early morning hours. The cold weather also helped in keeping the garden a little quieter as most people preferred to stay inside the warm corridors and classrooms. But the chilly air was good, it soothed my nerves and erased thoughts that werenât productive. Similar to that, were the emotions that I didnât want to deal with again, like the guilt thatâs never left me ever since Mingi walked out of my house wearing Yunhoâs old clothes. It felt wrong letting him take them without knowing the truth about them, but I didnât feel ready to tell him yet about the truth. I was scared, surprisingly, of what heâd think of me once he found out about Yunho and I. I was scared thatâheâd walk away, like Yunho had once done. And that was a very frightening thought. But when had I become so attached to Mingi? When has Mingi managed to infiltrate himself so thoroughly in my life, that the thought of completely losing him became scary? And why was I taking the past few days so badly? Itâs not like we were as close as Seulgi and I, or him and Seonghwa and Wooyoung, yet, ignoring him felt like the wrong move to do. However, the reasoning I always circled back to was the fact that I needed space. I had to clear my mind, to find the purpose of this whole friendship thatâs been blooming between us, and to make sense of everything. I had to figure out first why Yunho barely scraped my thoughts now, and why was it was Mingi who I found myself thinking of so often. In case you were wondering, no, I still havenât found the reason, and it was becoming frustrating quite quickly. That near kiss was aâmistake. Yet, it could have been so much worseâit could have been a real kiss. And a real kiss would have ruined everything. I didnât want to open up to anyone just yet, not when the memories of Yunho still haunted me in my dreams and drawings. Drawings that now more often than not consisted of Song Mingi.
And to my horror, the flipping of paper sheets is what alerted me back to my surroundings as I had been lost in my thoughts, oblivious to Seulgi putting her phone down and grabbing my sketchbook that lay between the two of us on the bench. As I turned my head, my eyes widened as Seulgiâs expression held surprise but amusement as well. She chuckled as she looked up, making eye contact with me. I lunged forward in an instant, trying to take my sketchbook out of her hands, but she leaned back and away, putting it behind herself.
âBitch, Iâm not the only one whoâs down bad for a man.â She said with a laugh, making me groan as I gave up trying to snatch my sketchbook back from her.
âIâm not down bad for a man, Seulgi, stop this non-sense.â I hissed, cheeks burning in embarrassment as she kept flipping through my drawings.
âPlease,â She scoffed, turning my sketchbook around and making me grimace as I came face to face with an exact replica of Mingi, sitting in his chair, at his studio that one time he invited me inside, âWho the fuck draws so many drawings of one single person if they arenât in love with themââ
âIâm not in love with Mingi, stop it!â I exclaimed, heart beating fast as Seulgi raised her eyebrows at me, looking unimpressed, âDonât ever again say that, Seulgi.â
âOkay, calm down, whatever. Youâre not in love with Mingi.â She chuckled, closing my sketchbook but she didnât hand it back yet, âBut letâs face it, Y/N, you have a thing for Mingi. Itâs super freaking obvious even without the drawings.â
âWhat the hell are you talking about?â I hissed and finally snatched the sketchbook out of her hands, clutching it to my chest. I knew bringing this along today would turn out to be a mistake, and here I was, facing the repercussions of my actions.
âThereâs this glint in your eyes whenever you look at himââ
âYeah, itâs called dislike.â I scoffed, rolling my eyes.
âAnd I see how you struggle to refrain yourself from smiling when youâre around himââ
âBitch, be for real, Mingi and I arenât even often together around you for you to notice that.â I scoffed, completely appealed by whatever absurd claims my best friend was making.
âSo youâre not denying itâwould it really be so bad if you liked Mingi?â But Seulgi ignored all my interruption as she raised her eyebrows at me, smiling softly, âHeâs a nice guy. Very well-mannered and with a big, and good heart. Wooyoung loves him a lot and is always worrying about him. He says Mingi hasnât been the same ever since his best friend moved away for collegeââ
âMingi is Yunhoâs best friend!â I blurted out before I could stop myself, finally feeling like a stone was taken off my chest as I bit my lower lip, averting my eyes from Seulgiâs shocked expression, âMingi is the best friend Yunho had always talked so much about while we were together. Iâdo you understand why it would be so bad if I ended up liking Mingi?â
âY/N,â Seulgi whispered, eyebrows furrowed, âfor how long have you know?â
âLong enough.â I muttered before clearing my throat, âSo please understand that Iâm not ready for whatever the hell me drawing all those sketches of Mingi could mean. A month ago I was close to bursting out crying even at the thought of Yunho, and now I fail to remember his existence on my best days.â
When I dared take a peek at Seulgi, she was smiling softly, almost proudly, âFine, Iâll pester you about this later on, when youâve figured things out, but until thenâyou canât deny Mingi isnât hotââ
âCan we stop talking about Minââ
âHi, girls!â I jumped in fright at the overly excited and shrill greeting as both Seulgi and I turned our heads to be met withâŠWooyoung and Mingi. Speak of the devil. Suddenly, there was a lump in my throat, and my heart started beating just a little bit faster as my eyes fell on Mingiâs tall form. It didnât help that underneath his coat he was wearing Yunhoâs sweaterâthe one I had given him.
âHi.â Seulgi giggled as Wooyoung leaned down to press a kiss against her cheek, the two looking sickly in love. It was actually endearing, but Iâd never admit it out loud for my own sake as I knew Iâd get teased about it by Seulgi. I averted my eyes from Wooyoung and Seulgi as they were muttering things to each other, and so, had no choice but to look up at Mingi, who lookedâexpressionless. Something in my stomach dropped at his cold demeanor, and it was worse that I wanted to assume it was my fault that he looked like that. But just as I was about to look away, he cracked the tiniest smile ever, and I exhaled, licking my lips.
âHi.â My voice was small as I gulped, eyes trans-fixated on the tall man as his smile became just a little wider. I donât think I had the power to ignore him anymore, not when he was standing right in front of me, looking like he wished to be anywhere but here.
âHi, Y/N.â Having not heard his voice in days, it sounded even deeper and raspier than usually, making butterflies erupt in my stomach as my grip tightened around my sketchbook. I felt a little awkward, perhaps even tense, as Mingi didnât say anything else, just continued gazing down at me with his sharp dark brown eyes boring into my own. I had so many things that I couldâve said to him, but I felt tongue tied. I didnât know what would be the right way to approach him after I ignored him for so many days. Would he understand? Is he mad at me now? Does he hate me now? Will he forgive meâ
âOkay,â Wooyoung chuckled, syllable drawn out and sounding amused, âI feel like Iâm interrupting something here, yet they are basically just staring at each other.â
âYouâre right.â Seulgi giggled, and I finally looked away from Mingi, throwing a glare at my best friend as she had leaned into Wooyoungâs side, who stood next to the bench and her.
âShush, you two.â Mingi beat me to telling the two love-birds off, and I couldnât help but smile, âDonât poke your nose where it doesnât belong to.â
âLook whoâs lecturing me about poking my nose where it doesnât belong toââ
âWooyoung.â Mingiâs tone held a warning, and it made Wooyoung giggle as he leaned down and pressed a fat kiss against Seulgiâs cheekâagainâmaking her push him away playfully.
âWeâre headed to class, are you coming over later?â Wooyoung smiled down at his girlfriend, playing with a strand of her hair.
âMaybe, if I get to finish my project.â Seulgi said with a pout and Wooyoung hummed, leaning down to press a kiss against her lips this time around. I averted my eyes, not a fan of seeing couples kiss, only to catch Mingi already looking at me. He was expressionless once again, but he was fidgeting with his fingers, looking almost nervous. And as Wooyoung stood up straight and ruffled Seulgiâs hair affectionately, Mingi took a deep breath.
âWill you come to Outlaw this Friday?â He asked in a rush, sounding almost reluctant as his eyebrows furrowed slightly and he chewed on his lower lip. To my horror, I found my eyes fixated on his plush mouth and I gulped before I quickly averted my eyes, praying that nobody caught it.
âYes.â I answered before Seulgi could, and nodded, smiling a little bit, âI wonât miss it.â
A beautiful smile spread on Mingiâs lips and he nodded once, looking too happy for something so little. I donât think Iâll understand anytime soon why he gets so excited and happy when I listen to his songs or watch him perform. Iâm no expert when it comes to music, my feedback is merely amateur and Iâm not even a fan of his band yet.
âCool, see you then.â And Mingi didnât wait for Wooyoung as he turned around and walked away, steps hurried. I didnât miss the confused glance Wooyoung and Seulgi shared before Wooyoung was off, chasing after his best friend. And maybe I would be soon able to make sense of my thoughts and feelings around Mingi, figure out what they meant and why they felt so real at times.
           Monday (16:58 pm)
I hate him: hi Me: hi I hate him: would it be a lot if i asked to meet u tomorrow? Me: no, im free in the afternoon I hate him: cool, me too so uhâŠwe can hang out in my studio? Me: or we can go to that new cafĂ© with pottery I hate him: really? Me: u did say u wanted us to go⊠I hate him: i certainly said so iâll pick u up around 4 Me: u donât have to iâll meet you there I hate him: come on, y/nâŠlet me drive u Me: uâve driven me around too many times by now iâll meet u there and thatâs final. I hate him: okay, boss, see ya there Me: :))
           Getting here before four oâclock and having to wait in front of the cute cafĂ© had no business being this nerve-wrecking. Yeah, Mingi hasnât shown up yetâbut perhaps thatâs because there were still ten minutes until itâd be fourâand I knew I had no reason to think heâd bail on me, but we hadnât spoken since yesterday, when he had asked me if we could hang out. And so, waiting for him shouldnât have had me breaking out in a sweat despite the cold weather, making me bite my lower lip harshly as I tried to smooth down the wool, green, brown, and beige patterned coat I was wearing. First of all, why the hell would I be so nervous about meeting up with Mingi alone at this cute cafĂ©? He probably wanted to talk about that near kiss, and once we had that cleared, things would go back to normalâright?!
And maybe that was the reason which made me want to vomit on the sidewalk, the thought that I knew Mingi would demand answersâanswers that I wasnât yet ready to hand out. Why did I even agree to this? Because I missed him? I should have just stayed at home and done the project Iâve been procrastinating onâagain. But when I heard the rumble of Mingiâs old Hondaâs engine, I knew there was no turning back, catching the bus and running home to hide underneath my blanket.
As Mingi took his time to parallel park, I took a deep breath and gripped onto the strap of my tote bag harder, looking down at myself. My apricot orange sneakers matched the color of my blouse, the top two buttons out of five undone, but not showing too much skin. My blouse was tucked inside my washed out high waisted mom jeans, the black belt matching the color of my tote bagâI know black isnât a color, Iâm an arts major after all. My hair was pulled in a low ponytail just to prevent the wind from blowing it in my face, and I was thankful that I chose my wool coat as it kept me warm enough. I have opted to wear quite a few rings today, and because my neck felt too exposed, I decorated it with three necklaces of different length. I gulped hard one last time as Mingi got out of his car and took a few seconds until he managed to lock it. However, those few seconds were exactly what I needed to prepare myself to not pass out at the full sight of him.
Mingi, in true fashion to him, wore all black, except for his jeans that were a very dark shade of blue, almost black too. His turtleneck was tucked inside his jeans, a black coat with a hood keeping him warm from the cold late autumn weather. It almost made me smile upon seeing his own tote bag, black, and funnily matching mine. Except that his was plain, while mine had Claude Monetâs Water-Lily Pond painting painted on it, done by none other than yours truly, me. Mingiâs eyes were concealed by black sunglasses, and I snorted as he almost splashed himself up by stepping a little too enthusiastically into a big puddle. Two necklaces hung around his neck, reaching down his chest. A very obvious and sturdy silver cross necklace, and another longer chain that had pearls scarcely strung on it. Â And in true Song Mingi fashion, his rings werenât missing, only two of his nails painted black on each hand, almost as if he didnât have time to finish doing them. My heart racing in my chest so fast just at the mere sight of him, certainly wasnât healthy, right?
âHi!â I squeaked out and wished to burry myself instantly as Mingi chuckled, a very charming smile spreading onto his lips. It was a little annoying that I couldnât see his eyes, forced to stare at his plush lips insteadâletâs be real, nobody forced me, I did it because I couldnât help myself, âThe sun is quite blinding today, isnât it?â
And of course, in good old fashion, my mouth worked before my brain would agree to saying something out loud, and my cheeks were burning as I knew Mingi saw me look at his lips. I had to divert the attention somehow, and teasing him was my best method, actually. It always worked. Â
âIâm trying to make a fashion statement,â Mingi grinned as he gripped the sunglasses and took them off in a very unnaturally hot way, âbut hello to you too.â
âNo need for a fashion statement when itâs just the two of us,â I narrowed my eyes, finding Mingiâs hair very soft and fluffy looking, almost as if he had recently washed it, and it wasnât completely dry, âIâm not one of your fans.â
âPity,â Mingi hummed, stepping slightly closer to me, âI thought I might just finally wove you.â
I scoffed, and as I was about to tell him off, he grabbed my tote bag and pulled me after himself, headed for the entrance of the cafĂ©, âDid you have to wait long for me? Traffic was busier today, I had to take a few detours to get here in time.â
âDonât worry,â I smiled as he opened the door for me and let me walk inside first, âI only waited half an hour for you to arrive, runway princess.â
âRunway princess?!â Mingiâs eyes bulged for a second before he started laughing loudly, making a few customers glance our way as we made it inside the cafĂ©. I elbowed him in the stomach gently, not too keen of having people glare at us as he disturbed their peace.
âDonât like the nickname?â I asked with a raised brow as we neared the front desk. The cashier had a friendly smile on her face while she greeted us as Mingi and I looked up at the menu, trying to decide what weâd like to have.
âNever said that,â Mingi answered with a chuckle as he threw me a quick glance, âitâs just surprising coming from you.â
âWhy, canât I call you a princess?â I chuckled, turning to face the cashier as I have made up my mind about what Iâd like to have.
âUp until now you seemed to prefer the term âbroâ, but Iâm fine with whatever you decide on calling me, doll.â The look the cashier gave us made my cheeks flame up and I cleared my throat loudly, shooting Mingi a look that told him to shut up.
âSorry about that,â I muttered embarrassed, smiling at the cashier, âcan I get a strawberry cheesecake?â
âSure, right away, and you, sir?â Her attention was on Mingi now, cheeks flushing the longer she looked at him. Okay, I could totally understand why. Mingi looked quite good right now, it was hard not to ogle him.
âA mint-chocolate cheesecake and a cappuccino?â Mingi hummed, eyebrows furrowed in thought as he looked down at the cashier.
âPlain cappuccino or with vanilla?â The cashier typed in our orders as she asked Mingi, averting her eyes shyly once he looked at her, pursing his lips.
âPlain,â He decided at last, turning to look at me, âare you not getting anything to drink?â
âAn orange fresh will be alright.â I said as I reached inside my bag to fish around for my wallet.
âAnd would you also like to paint some pottery?â The cashier asked, pointing behind herself at all the displayed options. Mingi and I shared a look and I smiled as I nodded at him, making him grin from ear to ear.
âYeah, weâll paint some pottery too. Can I have a cup?â He asked, pointing at one on the higher shelf. It was a smaller cup, specifically made for drinking coffee. The cashier nodded and then looked at me expectantly.
âUh, a mug will do for me.â I said and thanked her once she handed us the pottery and the paint that was used for painting these. Then, she tapped a few more on her tablet and told us the total. I opened my wallet to pay for my purchase, but Mingi had a card in his hands, the cashier already typing in the total sum for him to pay.
âMingi,â I hissed quietly, looking at him with a frown, âwhat are you doing?â
âIt was my idea to come hereââ
âNo, it wasnât.â I cut him off, fingers curling into the scratchy fabric of his coat as I reached out to hold it, âI suggested we come here instead of going to your studio.â
Mingi sighed and pocketed his card, already having paid, then turned his body to face mine. I didnât let go of his coat just yet, âYeah, but when I drove you home during that downpour I asked you if youâd come here with me. So technically, it was my idea. Initially, anyways, it really was.â
âMingiââ I started, but soon swallowed my words as he stepped closer, invading my personal space. My fingers tightened more into his coat and I gulped, suddenly feeling nervous due to our proximity. He faintly smelled of vanilla, it was a fragrance I didnât except to smell on him.
âCan you not fight me on this one, please?â Mingiâs eyebrows slightly furrowed and his eyes softened up and Iâstruggled to breathe for a second as I stared up in his pleading eyes, mouth going dry. He lookedâadorable like this, and I did not like the way I felt myself getting lost in his soft gaze.
âLetâs find a table.â I muttered, forcing myself out of the trance he placed on me, and grabbed my mug and the painting supplies. Mingi followed suit as he took his own cup and followed after me closely. We walked further inside the cafĂ© and found a smaller table in the next room, closer towards the window. The walls were painted a faint orange and were decorated by white stripes that created abstract shapes. The chandeliers were white and hung low, the place well-lit for those who wished to paint pottery.
I placed the things in my hands on the table carefully, and then discarded my coat on the back of my chair and my tote bag by the leg of the table, pulling my chair out for myself. Mingi followed suit, however, he managed to almost send his cup tumbling to the floor when he took his seat. His eyes were wide as he just barely caught the cup, and I giggled as I watched him while opening the box that held all the paint. Thankfully, the table was spacious enough to harbor both our pottery and paints as the cashier brought out our delicacies. She threw Mingi a lasting look before she hurried back to the front desk, glancing our way at times.
âThis is going to be a tough one.â Mingi said before scooping up a bit of his cheesecake with his little spoon.
âWhy?â I asked with a chuckle, choosing a thin brush to start painting some flowers on my mug. My cheesecake could wait.
âBecause Iâm literally sat at a table with an arts major, having to decorate some cup by painting.â Mingi sounded stressed and I chuckled as I looked up at him, amused by his expression. His hair fell in his eyes a bit, and I found myself absentmindedly reaching over the table to brush it to the side. Almost as if realizing at the same time what I had done, we both froze. It felt like time stilled around us as I watched Mingi with a gaping mouth, slowly but surely, my cheeks becoming the color of a fire hydrant. But Mingi wasnât better off as he bit his bottom lip, averting his eyes shyly as his cheeks turned the faint color of pink. Clearing my throat and accidentally choking as I hastily pulled my hand back, I averted my eyes and fought for my life to not choke. Thank God the orange juice was right there, I quickly took three large gulps.
âThâthanks.â Mingi stuttered, staring at the table as he licked his lips, âUh, itâs gotten long, my hair, I mean, I have to cut it when I get the time.â
âYeah.â I nodded, grabbing my mug and chewing on my bottom lip in embarrassmentâGod, could the Earth swallow me up right now? Why the hell did I do that?! âYeah.â
âDo you think I should change it up a little?â I paused as I had dipped my brush in red paint, and slowly looked up at Mingi, âDo something fun with itâlike going blonde?â
âI hate blonde hair.â I blurted out before I could stop myself. Nice one, idiot. Yunho was blonde while we were together, and thus, yeah, Iâve hated blondes ever since. And to be fairâand this is not me shitting on my exâbut that hair color did not suit Yunho at all.
âOh, noted.â Mingi whispered, pouting a little. I sighed and looked up at the ceiling, hating myself for the weird atmosphere I have created.
âMingi, you can do whatever you want with your hair.â I spoke up, leaning down to try and look him in the eyes as he was busy staring at the table, âMy opinion shouldnât matter. Itâs your hair. Go crazy with it, have fun, try out something new. Really.â
âBut do you think it would suit me?â Mingi was still pouting as he finally looked up at me, looking quite crestfallen. My eyebrows furrowed and I tried to imagine him with blonde hair. He was quite blessed with his skin complex as most colors looked good on him, but perhaps I preferred Mingi with dark hairâblack hair, more specifically. Like he had it right now. He lookedâgood. Handsome, even. Completely gorgeous. Fuck.
âI think it would suit you.â I settled on saying that. He didnât have to know my train of thought, like at all. Mingi hummed in appreciation, and I watched as he reached inside his tote bag, pulling out a case that held his glasses. He took it out of the case and put it on, pushing it up on the bridge of his nose. He grinned when he looked at me and I chuckled, shaking my head as I looked down at my mug, finally starting to decorate it.
âThere goes the cool, mysterious, hot celebrity act.â I teased under my breath, not expecting Mingi to hear me. But he did, and he started laughing, giving me a cheeky grin.
âNot quite a celebrity yet, but at least you admit I am hot.â Of course he was smirking as I gave him a deadpanned look, about to argue him on his statement, but he didnât let me as he continued talking, âBy the way, letâs exchange our cups when we are done. The mug will be mine and the cup will be yours.â
I tried to fight the smile off my lips, âSo that you get the artwork of a talented artist for free to sell for an outrageous price later on when Iâm famous?â
âI fear you have misjudged my character, doll.â Mingiâs eyes narrowed playfully, but there was truth to his words. I might just have misjudged his character.
âI still think youâre arrogant and selfish.â
âOf course you do, didnât except anything less from you.â Mingi winked and then looked down, his cheesecake forgotten as he started decorating his cup, tongue just barely sticking out as he concentrated hard on whatever he had in mind to paint onto the cup. I chuckled and shook my head before focusing on my own mug, the silence thatâs settle around us comfortable, as always.
           Mingi and I were the quietest table in the café as we worked in silence diligently in, painting our own pottery. Mingi, at times, would hum along quietly to the songs that were played on the radio. Despite his cup being smaller and easier to paint, I finished painting mine before him, and so, I took the time to savor my cheesecake even if it had gotten warm and a little too soft. Mingi was hunched over in his seat, glasses low on the bridge of his long nose, with his full lips either pursed or with the bottom one bitten as his eyebrows would furrow every time he almost made a mistake. It was a funny sight, and I grabbed my phone without thinking much, and snapped a few pictures of him, leaning lower and even closer to his face to get the funny angles, all while Mingi remained oblivious to it. I chuckled as I looked at the pictures I had taken of him, looking at him when I felt eyes on me.
âWhatâs so funny?â He asked curiously, eyeing my phone for a second.
âYou.â I chuckled and stuck my tongue out as Mingi rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair as he heaved a long sigh.
âIâm finally done.â He grinned and I looked down at his cup, taking in the yellow chicks he had painted quiteâclumsily. Well, not all of us had the skills of a painterânot that it was an issue or anythingâitâs just that itâs been long since I had seen someone have the skills of aâkindergartner, âItâs pretty sick, huh?â
I bit my lower lip to stop myself from giggling and nodded with my eyebrows furrowed, âIâd give it a seventy out of a hundred mark.â
âHey! Thatâs too low!â Mingi said, looking offended. I chuckled before shrugging.
âYouâll have to work on your skills for a higher mark.â
âFine, next time you come to the studio, Iâll make you sing.â Mingi raised his eyebrows, making me narrow my eyes at him playfully.
âOh, I didnât know we are in a competition.â
âWe werenât, until now.â He winked and then stood, grabbing my mug and his own cup carefully as he took it to the front desk for drying. I gathered the items we had used to paint the pottery with to place them back in the box, and couldnât help it but sneak a glance at Mingi. He was leaned up against the front counter, grinning widely at the cashier as she spoke to him, using her hands for big gestures as she was probably explaining something. My eyes narrowed as Mingi leaned slightly closer to her, only to detach himself from the front desk and walk back towards our table. I looked away and busied myself with my glass of orange juice.
âSo, weâll get them delivered to our houses once they are dry and all.â He said with a smile, sitting down, âI hope you donât mind I gave her your address too.â
âI donât.â I muttered, chewing on the straw for a second, âI didnât think youâd know my address.â
âWell,â Mingi flattened his hands on the surface of the table, âIâve been to your house twice now. I think itâs only right I remember your address, doll.â
âRight,â I muttered, âyouâve been to my house.â
Mingiâs eyebrows furrowed, and I figured he didnât like the tone of my voice. But before I could correct myself and explain that I had nothing against that, he spoke up, âY/N, IâI didnât mean to scare you orâI donât knowâmake you think that I want anything from you. I meanâwe are friends, and I respect you as a woman and as a friend, and I know we almostâkissed. But IâI donât want you to think that Iâm playing some sort of game with you to getâto get in your pants. Iâm your friend. And even if I wasnât, I still wouldnât do that to you.â
Hearing him say all that felt wrong. I didnât deserve any explanation from him. I was the one thatâs overreacted that day, and Mingi was the one that deserved an explanation and apology from me for the way I have acted. I knew I couldnât completely open up to him right now, that some parts of the truth had to be omitted today, but he also deserved to know why I had pulled back. And I wanted him to understand that it wasnât his fault for the way I reacted to everything.
âMingi,â I offered him a small smile and gripped my empty glass for some support, âIf you think you are the reason why I ignored you, please, stop thinking that. Itâsâwe both leaned in, okay? We were both about to kiss each other, itâs not like you initiated it or forced me to do something I didnât want to. And nothing even happened, for Godâs sake. I reacted that way because Iââ
When I paused, Mingiâs eyebrows furrowed, and he leaned over the table, gently poking my hand with his ring clad fore-finger, âYou donât have to tell me anything if youâre not comfortable sharing it, Y/N.â
âBut I want you to know this, Mingi.â I averted my eyes and took a deep breath, embracing myself for what I was about to tell him, âI had a boyfriend back in high-school who completely broke my heart, shattered it into pieces. And I know that happened a long time ago, and yes, I am over him, but IâI am scared people will treat me like he had treated me. Iâm scared that if I let you close, youâll justâleave. Like he did. And I know ignoring you for days was very shitty of me and I shouldnât have done thatâbecause quite frankly, Mingi, you deserve betterâI just didnât know what to do. I needed a few days to myself, to figure things out. Itâs a bad excuse, but itâs the truth, and I think you deserve to know it. Since we are friends.â
Mingiâs face conveyed no emotion for a few seconds and I gulped, feeling nervous all of a sudden. Did he figure it out now? That I was talking about Yunho? That maybe I have started feeling something for him too, for Mingi? Would he stand up and leave? But to my surprise, a wide smile stretched onto his lips and he hummed, adjusting his glasses on his nose.
âThank you for trusting me, it means a lot that you told me all that.â I bit my bottom lip, looking down at the table abashedly, âAnd I was never mad at you for ignoring me. I completely understand you, Y/N, and for the record, I have zero intentions of leaving you. And your ex is a fucking asshole for breaking your heart like that, tell me who he is and Iâll beat him up when I cross paths with him.â
There was nothing funny about what Mingi had said, especially since he was talking about his best friend, but the comically tough look on his face made me snort loudly as I shielded my mouth with my hand, trying to stop myself from laughing too loudly. Mingi started grinning like an idiot, his giggles deep, and making something coil in my stomach. When has Song Mingi become adorable instead of annoying?
âI doubt youâd want to kick his ass once you find out who he isâŠâ I grimaced once that was out of my mouth, regretting it instantly. What was it about today that I couldnât keep my thoughts and mouth in check? It was turning really frustrating.
âSo, you plan on telling me one day?â Mingi wriggled his eyebrows, making me snort, âLike real besties gossiping and shit.â
âYou never fail to make me cringe when you call us besties, Mingi.â I shook my head, taking a glance at my wrist watch. Oh, the time had flown away, it was well past five now, and the sun was going down. Iâd probably have to head home soon to have dinner with my mother. I was becoming hungry too.
âWell, thatâs what we are soâŠâ He cleared his throat before slowly standing up, making me look up at him, âDid you know today weâre celebrating the Festival of Light?â
âNope, I had no idea.â I shook my head, standing up too as Mingi wore his coat, âI donât follow the events our city organizes.â
âPity, itâs really pretty.â Mingi pouted, waiting for me as I grabbed my tote bag and pocketed my phone, âShould we check it out?â
âI meanâŠmaybe?â I shrugged and Mingi beckoned me over as he crossed his arm with mine, making me chuckle as I looked up at him. He wasnât much taller than me, but his sneakers had a thick sole and they made him even taller, âWhere is this festival held at?â
âJust down the street, at the Citadel.â Mingi smiled as he led the way out of the cafĂ©, waving at the barista as she blushed again, making me chuckle as I subconsciously nuzzled up against Mingiâs side, the air chilly as the sun had set by now.
âThat barista totally has a crush on you.â I found myself saying as we walked down the sidewalk, trying to avoid crashing into the people that came towards us. Yeah, there certainly was an event on-going in the city, otherwise you wouldnât see so many people out and about around this time. Everyone preferred staying inside after the sun had set, not keen of the cold nights.
âYou think so?â Mingi mused, bottom lip jutting out as he narrowly avoided a child that was running around, âI didnât notice.â
âYou must be really dense then.â I snorted, eyebrows furrowing as I looked up at him, âShe was constantly blushing, and she was totally looking at you with hearts in her eyes.â
âHow do you know when someone is looking at you with heart eyes?â Mingiâs question threw me off, and I detached myself from his side, clearing my throat as I looked ahead, pushing my hands in my pockets. He was warm, it made me realize as the cold bit at my skin now that I wasnât nuzzled up by his side anymore.
âWell, they have this look in their eyes, you know? Itâs warm, and soft, and it lasts.â I explained, feelings my cheeks heat up, âAnd their eyes always linger on you when you arenât watching them. Itâs likeâŠpuppy eyes, I suppose? I wouldnât actually know, Mingi, nobodyâs ever looked at me like that.â
When there was no response, I looked back to find Mingi looking at me intensely. My eyebrows furrowed as we have arrived to the Citadel, the gates open for the visitors of the festival. The place was packed, this wouldnât be so fun anymore. I wouldâve turned around and walked back home if I didnât see how excited Mingi was when I agreed to come check it out.
âThereâs lots of people here.â Mingi muttered, and then walked closer to me as I led the way inside, a little baffled by his reaction to my answer. I just merely gave an answer based on my beliefs. It was him that was acting weird now. But as I looked at him, I could see it in his eyes that he didnât want to talk about this topic anymore, that he wanted us to drop the subject. His last comment was a way to veer the conversation in a different direction. What was it about us today making everything weird? I sighed and just walked further inside, trying to avoid the big crowd which seemed almost impossible as it stretched on and on. The Citadel, however, was beautiful as it was coated in darkness, only the little paper lamps and fairy lights illuminating the place. It had a certain aura to it, almost romantic, and I soon found myself smiling as we walked down the cobblestone path, still trying to avoid people and stick close to each otherâs sides. The air was chilly but the walls of the Citadel did a great job at keeping the breeze out, and the crowd certainly kept the place warmer than it was outside the stone walls.
I found myself admiring the décor in wonder, my mouth hanging open as I took in all the little lamps placed down on the ground, following the cobblestone paths, illuminating our way. It was truly beautiful, it almost felt like the scene was taken out of a fairytale. I found myself filled with excitement and happiness as I turned to grin at Mingi.
âThis is so beautiful!â I giggled, absentmindedly grabbing the sleeve of his coat and dragging him away from the path and into the dying grass as there was a panel covered with paper, and people were writing on it. Mingi remained silent, but as I searched around for a pen or pencil, I felt him watching me, âWhat, do you not want to write something?â
âIf you manage to find a marker or pen, I will, sure.â He said with a shrug, adjusting the strap of his tote bag before he pushed his hands deep in his pockets. I chuckled and looked around for a marker, but it was hard to see it in the darkness whether they were laying around in the grass or not. To my surprise, a little girl standing next to me looked up at me with a small smile on her lips, and offered me her purple-coloured marker, saying she was done with her drawing. I thanked her with a chuckle and turned to face Mingi with a grin.
âI found one!â Mingi chuckled and took the marker from my hands, being able to reach high up where the paper was still empty, due to his height. The panel was illuminated from the inside so you could actually see what was written on the paper. I watched him as he wrote on the paper, hesitating for a second, before he stepped back and handed me the marker. I raised up on my tip toes curiously, and craned my neck to see what heâs written. âThe moon is beautiful tonight.â
I felt a smile spread onto my lips as I looked back at Mingi, whoâs expression was serious and almost sad-looking as he adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his tall nose. I craned my neck back once more to gaze at the dark sky, at the moon, and indeed, there she was, beautiful and shining brightly. It was a new moon. Taking a swift glance at Mingi, I raised back on my tip toes and stood close to the panel, reaching up, just underneath Mingiâs writing. Thankfully, I could reach just bellow it, and I grinned as I quickly drew a new moon, adding a little shading to it and dents as well, creating the illusion of a real moon. Mingi remained silent as I took a step back, admiring our work. I handed the marker to another child as I fished my phone out of my pocket and snapped a picture quickly of our artwork.
âThe moon turned out beautifully.â Mingi commented once we had stepped away from the panel to let others draw too, headed back onto the cobblestone path.
âStill, itâs not as beautiful as the real one, but I tried my best.â I chuckled as I crossed my arms in front of my chest for a second, avoiding a man as he wasnât looking in front of himself as he raced down the path. Mingi threw him a displeased look before looking down at me.
âYour drawings and paintings are always beautiful, Y/N.â Mingi said and I found myself blushing, thankful that it was so dark he wouldnât be able to see it. I uncrossed my arms and turned my body a little to face him. There was music coming from one path, the one which led to the southern part of the Citadel.
âAre you nervous about Friday?â I found myself asking him as Mingi veered us towards where the music was coming from. He looked at me for a second, and then shook his head.
âIâm rarely nervous when we have to perform.â He said nonchalantly, the back of his hand brushing lightly against mine. My heart did a somersault against my ribcage, but I ignored it.
âOh, youâre such a cool guy.â I teased him with narrowed eyes, making Mingi chuckle.
âI rarely get nervous, to be honest, even less when it comes to performing.â He hummed, looking up at the dark sky for a second, âI trust myself and my bandmates that everything will go well, so, thereâs no actual reason to feel nervous.â
âBut Iâll be there on Friday, that still doesnât make you feel nervous?â My question was meant to be teasing, part of our playful banter, but the way Mingi gulped and quickly averted his eyes told me that perhaps I hit the nail spot-on. Well, now I have turned things awkward again. I sighed loudly, chewing on my bottom lip as Mingi remained silent, the two of us walking down the narrow path as the music became louder as we were nearing the stage. Jazz music was playing, the lady who was singing had a powerful and smooth voice that carried over the crowd neatly. There were a few people dancing in the crowd.
âPerhaps having you there will make me nervous.â Mingiâs voice was barely above a whisper and I tensed when I felt his pinkie brush against my own, making me clench my hand into a fist. But a very quiet voice inside my head demanded me to accept Mingiâs subtle request, and willing my heart to stop hammering so hard in my chest, I relaxed my hand and slowly slipped it into Mingiâs. If he stopped walking for a milli-second, I didnât say anything about it, and he also ignored it. His grip turned firm as he intertwined our fingers together, gently pulling me closer into his side as he smiled at a mother who apologised for his son almost running into us.
I gulped and kept my eyes ahead of me, too nervous to look at Mingi. Holding his hand like this meant nothing in particular, but it was a nice feeling. It made my cheeks warms and heart race. And I didnât have to look at Mingi to know he was smiling like crazy, his cheeks just as red as mine as we came to a stop behind the dancing people.
Have I started falling for Song Mingi?
ăIt's you, ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh
I'm just saying it's you, ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh
You, ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh
You're what I've been chasing
Show me where my days wentă
â±â± Next chapter
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â complete the forms if you're interested! ^^
so...the festival of light scene was totally inspired by me and my bestie attending it in our city lol; it was sooo beautiful and the pictures in the moodboard were actually taken by us; also, her and I kept laughing about the romantic vibes we were getting, all in all, we had a nice time...and OFC we make everything about Ateez so :))
I wrote that LOL I'm like Mingi, tall enough to reach the top where people haven't scribbled onto yet lol
also, this is what y/n's outfit looks like for anyone wondering, except for the colors as they are the way I have described them in the scene ^^
#bvidzsoo#cromernet#song mingi#mingi#mingi ateez#mingi oneshot#song mingi oneshot#mingi x reader#song mingi x reader#ateez mingi#mingi smut#song mingi smut#mingi angst#song mingi angst#mingi fluff#song mingi fluff#song mingi ateez#song mingi fanfic#mingi fanfic#ateez series#ateez smut#ateez fluff#ateez angst#ateez x reader#mingi scenarios#song mingi scenarios#mingi imagines#song mingi imagine#ateez fanfic#ateez scenarios
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for rest and relaxationâ.àłàż*:đ
GIVE YOURSELF TIME ;
give yourself time to rest and relax and focus entirely on yourself and feeling better. choose a specified amount of time to just rest. this frees up time for inner work, healing etc. during that time identify the "why" to which u feel the way that you do.
identifying the issue helps you, after the rest and relaxation, to understand what it is that u need to focus on the most. therefore u can formulate goals suited to deal with the issue. set some ground rules before you start your resting period so that then your not going to be moving backwards on your goals.
RESTFUL MOVING ;
when u rest its important to not just sit at 0%. what i mean by that is always do at least a little something. when u make it a habit to just give 0% and do absolutely nothing, you'll find that things that u worked for will start to deteriorate and ur health both mentally and physically will be worse then when u started which isnt the point of rest at ALL.
im not saying that while ur resting and relaxing you have to be doing a whole workout or running x amount of miles. what im saying is that whilst resting do 1% of that. an example of restful moving could be...
dance when u wake up - i saw this in a tiktok and basically the logic behind this is that when ur dancing ur giving your body freedom and fluidity that translates to ur brain as well. so that then ur not so stiff and rigid and it improves ur mood.
DURING THE ROT ;
something that i find interesting to do is that while ur rotting, document it and write out what u do/did while rotting. that way when ur done with ur rest and relaxation you can look back and see what u did. doing so can also help u see what u needed or easily identify what was wrong/what sent u into rot.
ways i spend my resting time : setting aside time to think, write in my journal. spending time girlblogging, working on projects and formulating ideas. spending quality time with my dog. watching shows that i have on my watch list. reading lots and lots of books, manga etc. taking frequent naps and writing down the dreams that i've had. doom-scrolling on tiktok. watching true crime video essays.
AFTER THE ROT ;
if you haven't read my post the feel better formula, i rly recommend that u do so that then u can see the how to get out of that rot. but if u haven't read the post i'll quickly go over the points here.
listening to music and dancing
listen to songs that give you dopamine and just songs that you'd feel comfortable dancing to. in the feel better formula post i mentioned that twice gives me lots of dopamine so whenever i need some i listen to their songs.
practicing self care
getting ready everyday has been a game changer for me. even if ur not going out after ur rot just get ready as though you were. get into some cute clothes, practice self care, do ur makeup
a nice long journalling session
my journalling routine is update my diary 2x a week and do a shadow work session 1x a week. but for my longer journaling sessions i'll do an extended shadow work session and journal and get out whatevers on my mind onto paper.
(self care activity + something that engages ur mind + REAL rest + movement + hobby = feeling better).
SOME WAYS TO RELAX ;
sound bath ; sound healing is something thatâs been interesting to learn about for me. so the concept of a sound bath is just relaxing and bathing yourself in sound frequencies as a way to relieve stress, healing, and general wellness.Â
how i like to do it, is iâll just look up âsound bathâ on youtube and while im stretching or just laying down iâll listen to it and itâs so soothing! or i listen to these subliminals by i want it i got it and they have frequencies in them so i do that as well.Â
at home spa day ; reference this post bcuz it gives a little at home spa day routine.
#advice#self concept#it girl#becoming that girl#self care#self love#that girl#it girl energy#honeytonedhottieâïž#self improvement#self reflection#self growth#self development#rest#rest and relaxation#relaxation#self healing#healing journey#girlrotting#girlhood#im just a girl#girl blog#dream girl#dream girl tips#dream life
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Lovesick - W.A.
Wednesday Addams x Fem!Reader
Summary: You and Wednesday are polar opposites. Do they really attract?
Word Count: 1.6k
A/N: Request from ages ago, I didnât proofread this. Please excuse any mistakes. Happy reading! <3
Wednesday had a problem.
When Wednesday had first transferred to Nevermore, and gotten the infamous Enid welcome and introduction, she couldn't have cared less about you.
"That is Bianca Barklay, the closest thing to Nevermore royalty they'll ever be."
Then Enid pointed to a girl sitting next to Bianca, staring at the bubbles in the water fountain with intrigue.
"And that, is YN. She's the school heartthrob. It's just impossible to not love her, you'll see."
"She looks like a mushroom." Wednesday replied dryly, swiftly turning on her heel and heading back to her dorm.
"She's a sweetheart. Everyone likes her. You'll find out what I mean. I'm always right!" Enid shouted out, before quickly catching up and walking side by side with the goth.
Enid had warned that this would happen. God, how was Enid right?
Wednesday's frown only grew deeper as she thought back to the moments you've shared over the past year.
-
"Hey, you must be Wednesday right? New girl?"
All you got in return was a curt nod.
"Allllright, I get it, you don't wanna talk. Trust me I get it, I was so silent the first week here, some people thought I was mute!"
Silence.
You frown a bit but redirect your focus to the teacher emerging from the door.
-
"Enid I do not understand why I have to suffer not only with you, but her. I was content just sitting down in the dorm and practicing my cello."
The werewolf had recently gotten three free passes to Jericho, and decided to drag both you and Wednesday out for a cup of coffee.
"I hate to agree with her Enid, but I really have a lot of biology homework to do." You mused from behind, still sore from fencing class you had that day.
"Oh come on! It's good for you two to bond. My two besties, we're gonna be so cool together!" Enid makes an excited sound, "We should come up with a group name!"
When Wednesday quips back that she'd rather die in a long long torturous death (which she'd probably enjoy) instead of have a group name, you can't help but snort in agreement.
You shoot Wednesday a look, small smile playing on your lips.
-
Ever since that first day at Jericho, Enid had you guys connected by the hip. Unwillingly.
But as the days went on, Wednesday found out you weren't so bad.
She was particularly late to lunch today, catching up with updates on the hyde case.
In fact, she was debating skipping lunch all together. But as she glanced over to the pentagon, a hand shot up along with a shout.
"Wednesday! Over here!" You were waving your hand wildly, gesturing for her to walk over.
Wednesday bit back a sigh as she moved towards you, and to her surprise, there was one empty seat opposite of you, plate full, apple on the side.
"I got some lunch for you. Oh and a plain granola bar, I see you always like eating them." You tell her absentmindedly, munching on a sloppy joe.
Wednesday hesitates, before saying a quiet thank you.
"It's my pleasure Wends. So, how's the hyde case going?"
You both don't mention the fact you used a nickname to address her. She sighs, she supposed it was nice of you to get her lunch, so she tells you about the case.
"It's going well YN, I've just had a breakthrough......"
-
"Come on Wends, pleaseee? I really really really wanna go to The Weathervane."
You stare at Wednesday with your famous puppy eyes, and see Wednesday's glare soften just the slightest bit.
"I....suppose we can go in a few hours. After I've finished my writing hour, I have hyde business to do there anyway." She says, even though she'd already taken care of the issue already.
"Could you help me study for midterms? I do not understand anything for the life of me." You whine and throw the book back on her bed. Flopping onto the soft fabric dramatically.
"Bring it with you to the Weathervane." Wednesday says sharply, and returns back to her typewriter.
-
"Sucky Birthday to you Wednesday! Come, follow me." You squeal excitedly, reaching for the goth and pulling her by the wrist.
Physical touch has come sort of, natural to you with Wednesday. You were a naturally touchy person anyway, but when you were around Wednesday everything felt very...heightened.
Hm, I wonder what that is.
Wednesday was constantly complaining about your intense need to be touching her at all times, but she never actually pulled away when you did; and you're well aware she could if she wanted to.
"Where are we going?" She asks, tone somewhat annoyed.
You turn to her and smile; so bright Wednesday swears light shone through your teeth.
"Grave digging!"
Wednesday's eyebrows twitches in amusement, a small but noticeable movement. You've become sort of professional in her mannerisms over the past few months.
"I knew you'd like it. Come on." You say, practically sprinting to your destination. It's not a smart move, and you stumble over your own feet; arms still connected with Wednesday's.
You fall flat on your back into the soft grass, Wednesday on top of you.
She looks so good, the moonlight shining on her face. You steal a glance at her lips.
She's staring at you with wide eyes, arms on both sides of your face. Her braids frame your head a little.
She coughs awkwardly, then gets up and looks the other way.
You follow suit, trying to calm down your racing heart.
"Ooookay. Let's- let's get grave digging now." You say finally, watch as Wednesday walks toward you but avoids your eye.
She's grateful it's dark out, or else you would've seen the red coating her ears. And when you reach for her wrist she pulls back, afraid you'll be able to feel her racing heart.
-
It's parent's day. The long awaited dreadful day where Wednesday has to talk to her parents.
They'll be able to tell right away, she has no doubt. She's lovesick.
Theyâd see right through her. They're like magic love wizards in that way.
"You ready Wends?" You muse from behind her, take her hand in yours. You were currently situated in her dorm room, the two of you alone; waiting for your parents to come.
"No." She replies, but not in a sarcastic or dry way. She sounds kind of...scared.
You poke her cheek and watch as she tries and swat your hand away.
"You look a little on edge." You observe, staring at the hairs on the back of her neck.
She's a little afraid if she tells you why she's nervous for this specific meeting she'll let it slip that she might've accidentally caught feelings for you.
Ugh. Feelings.
It's come to the point where she can actually say she has feelings for you. Itâs pathetic, and quite frankly sickening.
"I'm fine. Let's just get this over with." She grumbles, and bursts through the door; leaving you standing dumbly in her room.
"Wednesday, darling how have you been?" Her mother drawls, smile on her lips as she speaks.
"I've been good mother. Apart from the gigantic monster that's trying to kill me. Actually, I think I'm having lots of fun." Wednesday says, looking over her moms shoulder to spy on you.
Just a little bit.
You look lively, and happy. It makes her feel weird in her tummy.
"My little storm cloud, what are you looking at?" Her father asks, watching Wednesday with keen eyes. It wouldn't be obvious to anyone else, but Addams were very observatrice people, and he could tell straight away when Wednesday has lost focus.
He follows his daughters gaze to a certain werewolf. He has to blink one more time to make sure he's not seeing things.
âOh," He smiles, soft. "I see what's going on."
Wednesday turns sharply, face impassive.
"You don't see anything." She says hotly. Too fast for her normal speech.
Her mom smirks, catching on quick.
"Oh sweetie, we think it's cute. Our little storm cloud is in love." They coo, leaning forward to whisper with Wednesday.
The black hair girl scoffs, and folds her arms in front of her chest.
"I am not in love. I do not know what you are talking about." She replies.
"Sure you don't." Pugley adds, peeping in between his parents.
Wednesday suddenly feels hot underneath their gaze. She gets up abruptly, tilts her face up in hopes for some high ground.
"You all annoy me. This is why I don't write to you." She says before turning on her heel and heading over to you.
You stare at her with curious eyes as she walks toward you. Stops in front of you, hands stiff like a soldier.
"Hey? Whatcha doing?" You ask, pat the seat next to you. She ignores the feeling of something fluttering in her stomach when you accidentally touch fingertips.
"I would like to stay here with you. If you do not mind. My parents are being...unreasonable." She says, picking her words carefully.
You chuckle, smile softly.
"Of course you can stay here Wednesday. Come, come meet my family."
Wednesdayâs heart almost jumps out her chest. She's really not one to be scared easily, but this was easily one of the most intense moments of her life.
She usually didn't care if anyone didn't like her, but there was an underlying nagging feeling that told her this was important. Your family was an essential part of you, and if she wanted to win you over; she had to win over your family too.
"I can't wait."
#tara carpenter x reader#jenna ortega x reader#wednesday addams x reader#wednesday addams#wednesday addams x you
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CHAPTER SIX | it all makes sense when i'm with you.
'it's nice to have a friend' masterlist + playlist | previous chapter
PAIRING: jamie tartt x fem!reader
WORD COUNT: 6.0k
SUMMARY: jamie and reader are finally happy, but are now faced with entering a new era of their relationship.
WARNINGS: language
A/N: yet another long chapter, but this is the last one before the epilogue and i really wanted to include a lot of scenes! i want to thank you all again for reading this! it's been a long time coming (longer than expected), but i hope you'll all enjoy it anyway! thanks again for reading and if you're curious, the title is from the song "1,2" by mxmtoon :)
"They were fucking psychos for making us tie it around our dicks. I mean, I already knew Total Football, so I don't get why they had to make me do it, too."
"Sportsmanship, Jamie. You have to be one with the team." You joke, but even through the phone, you can tell he's not amused.
"Anyway, after I finally told them they were doing it wrong, we got the first goal and now weâre winning matches. It's been doing wonders for my self-image."
It was your turn now to roll your eyes. You didn't respond, which resulted in Jamie asking, "Are you still listening?"
"Yes! You're just lucky no one's come in for office hours right now and you can be the one to talk my ear off." You take off your legs from your table and stand up to stretch. You hadn't realized how long you'd been sitting there, listening to Jamie update you on his life, but it was enough that it led to a loud crack in your neck.
"Fine, I'll see you later, yeah?" He asks and you give a short hum as your answer. "Alright. Bye, love."
Had it been the first time he'd called you that at the end of a phone call, you would've fallen back into your chair. But after your weekend meet-ups had been mostly reduced to weekly phone calls due to the sudden increase in practices for Jamie, you had gotten used to his casual usage of the word.Â
But that didn't mean you didn't still get the butterflies when he'd call you that. Yet again, you were falling for your best friend. Only this time, you couldn't pass it off as some stupid childish crush that would pass in time. But at least, you were old enough to understand your feelings better.
Now, you were waiting for him to show up at your flat tonight. You have subconsciously even pulled out the ingredients for lasagna, one of his favorite dishes of yours. Christ, what was happening to you?
As you pull out the plates from the cupboard and get them ready at the dining table, a knock on your door pulls your attention away. Before you can even react, it opens to reveal Liv and Freddie, the former now sermoning you about the importance of locking your doors.
"Who's your guest?" Freddie asks, changing the course of Liv's train of thought. Your best friend's eyes widen as she realizes and whispers, "Is Jamie here?"
"Jamie Tartt?!" Freddie exclaims in the loudest voice you've ever heard from him. You try and shush him before you realize he summoned the footballer.
"Yeah, who's asking?" You hear him enter from the hallway, carrying his duffel bag with him. Only you can tell he's surprised by the additional company, but any other person would have taken his smile as an overly confident one. "How're you doing, Liv? And this is the soon-to-be mister, I suppose?"
"Freddie, and yes, that's me." He reaches to shake Jamie's hand, and the footballer takes it politely. "We should leave them to it, right 'hon?" Freddie grabs hold of Liv's hand, who does not share her fiancĂ©e's eagerness to leave â mainly to hear all about what's going on with the two of you, â but obliges anyway.Â
"Wait," Jamie stops them from leaving and pulls out something from the pocket in his duffle bag. "Since you're here, I'll hand them in person. Three tickets to the England match in a few days. They give some out to each player, and I was planning to give it to (Y/N) and I'm sure she would've given it to you two."
He's right, but you still faked offense for thinking she had no one else to give it, too.
"No, we couldn't," Liv replied, "you should give these to your family." You knew she was just being humble, that she desperately wanted those tickets, but she'd never automatically accept them.
"Nah, don't worry about that. They're all back in Manchester, so too far away to go the match anyway. Plus, it's a return for leaving that one," he nods towards you, "in the middle of Nelson Road. Without that, I'd never have gotten her back, so thank you." You smile at Jamie as he says that, who only winks at you.
"Alright, thank you so much, Jamie Tartt." Freddie takes the two tickets, before saying goodbye to the footballer.
"You owe me an explanation," are your parting words to your best friend, after having spent this whole time wondering how she and Jamie had met before. All she does is smirk at you before taking her fiancée's hand and leaving the flat with him.
"Here's yours," Jamie hands you your ticket, before rushing to grab something from his bag. "I have one more thing to show you, hold on." You see a flash of white as he pulls the item out and rushes to your bathroom.
You could only laugh. You haven't seen him this excited to show you something since he first showed you his team kit after he joined Man City, the memory of which gives you a hint as to what he wants to show off now. You take a seat on the stool next to the kitchen counter, before you hear his steps returning, placing your toes behind the metal footrest.
"Look out now... for the best striker on the England National Team, Jamie Tartt!" He introduced himself, before having a running start and jumping right in front of you and posing.
You smile brightly, barely being able to contain your joy at seeing Jamie so clearly proud to show off one of his best accomplishments. You knew how hard Jamie had been working to get to this point, from the moment you met him as children all those years ago. This is the Jamie you know and love, so proud and self-assured, who knew what he wanted and went for it.
"It looks perfect on you, Jamie." You say genuinely, as Jamie walks closer to you.
"Yeah? It's soft too, feel it," he offers his arm, though he's still far enough that you have to stand. You forget how you placed your feet and end up falling forward. Jamie's there to catch you and once again, you find your face too close to his own.
"Careful," he whispers, keeping his arms wrapped around you and his eyes on yours. Jamie helps you up and keeps his hands on your shoulders as you move to create space between you too.
"You're right," you try and break the tension. "The kit's real soft. So..." you turn around to find the dinner you've made still not plated. "Can you still make your own plate of food or are you too high-status to do it yourself now?"
"Ah, I don't want to dirty up the kit this early," he tries to joke, but you slap his arm playfully before walking over to the dining table.
â
"Oh my god, oh my god, we're here." Liv s.queals beside you.
"It's real. Oh, somebody pinch me. What if I offer Jamie to be my Best Man? My brother wouldn't mind, right?" Freddie added, dawned completely in merchandise.Â
"Christ, there's two of you now." You joke, but Liv plants a kiss on your cheek and interlock your arms as you walk to your seats.
Before you can even get settled, a text message from Jamie grabs your attention. Could you come here followed by, please.
You're confused by the vague message but try to follow it anyway. You weren't sure where 'here' was, but you excused yourself from Liv and Freddie and tried to head to where you assumed the locker rooms were.
It was risky, considering you were wearing a Tartt shirt and didn't look like anyone of importance, but it seemed like there wasn't much security on the way there. You turn the corner where you find Jamie leaning against the wall, but your footsteps cause him to jolt up. He instantly softens when he realizes who it is, and starts to come towards you.
He envelops you in a hug and the first thing he says to you is, "I might fuck this. I mean, they didn't put me on starting for a reason, right?"
"Jamie..." you whisper, returning the hug and then pulling away to try and look him in the eye, but he keeps his eyes low. " What happened to the guy who was confidently showing off his kit to me a few days ago? If they have any sense in them, they are going to sub you in, and you are going to do great."
"You always say that," he points out and you shake your head.
"And I have, like, a 99 percent success rate with it." You take hold of his face to try and get him to focus on you. "They wouldn't have put you on the team if they didn't think you were a capable and amazing player. Of course, I've known that since we were kids, but the entire world is realizing it now. Jamie Tartt, you are one in a million. You've believed that all your life, so why stop now?" Jamie finally looks you in the eye and you try to give him a comforting smile.
The past months you've spent with Jamie have taken out a lot of the surprise factor in the things he does. But before you knew it, Jamie's lips were on yours and now, you could name at least one thing he can do to keep you on your toes.
Almost as quickly, Jamie pulls back, "Shit, I'm sorry. I didn'tâ" but you interrupt him with a kiss of your own. You're not really sure how long you stay like that, but the moment Jamie returned the kiss, you knew time didn't matter. Then, of course, logic came back into your system and you had to pull away.
You're a bit out of breath, but you rest your temple against his, "You got this, Jamie." He pulls away before he gives you another hug.
His coach comes out of the locker room to call him back inside, and he turns to leave you but comes back to give you one last kiss on the cheek. "Bye, love." Love.
It takes everything in you to hold back from spilling everything to Liv as you get back to your seat and wait for the game to start.
â
"AFC Richmond's Jamie Tartt, winning his first cap for England, an unforgettable moment and well earned," the commentator announces at some point during the game, and Liv remarks that this is the loudest she's ever seen you cheer.
"Let's go, Jamie!" You shout and with the sea of England supporters at the venue, you're aware he can't hear you, but you hope it reaches him anyway.
And of course, you were right. He did amazing, plus you had only noticed now that he chose 24 as his number, which was his teammate's. He had told you about how Sam didn't get picked for the Nigerian team and how crushed he was about it, so seeing Jamie do such a touching gesture was only another reminder of how amazing â your friend? Boyfriend, if that could even be used? Childhood best friend? Ah, fuck it⊠â Jamie was.
You didn't get to see the footballer after the match, but he managed to send you a goofy selfie along with a 'thank you' message, indicating that he was back to normal, maybe even a bit more confident now. You send one back and close your phone as you return to your conversation with Liv. Maybe your mind was playing tricks on you, but you could still feel his lips lingering on yours.
â
"That's this class of students done," you said to yourself, before switching over to your laptop where Liv's guest list was open. The wedding was still in a couple of months, but even then, you were starting to feel the strain of being Maid of Honor.Â
It had been a few weeks since you even had a proper conversation with Jamie, let alone talk about what happened before the England match. You weren't really sure what you expected or wanted to happen. You were hoping Jamie would take the lead like he usually did, but even he was too busy to talk.
So recently, you've been diving straight into your work, hoping that by the time you were done, Jamie would finally send that message that he wanted to talk. But instead, the only person you've been having any non-academic conversation with was Liv.
You see a message from her pop up on your laptop, saying Have you seen this? Jamie's acting a bit weird.
You weren't sure what your best friend's standards were for "weird," but as you play the interview clip, you find yourself agreeing with her.
"I apologize to everyone, especially the kids." You watch him lean into the mic to say, and you scrunch your eyebrows in confusion, but your expression turns into worry.
You reach for your phone to message him, Hey Jamie, how are you? Do you wanna come over for movie night soon?
It was ten minutes later when you finally got a reply. Doing good. Can't see you right now though, busy with training. Sorry.
Now you were really getting anxious. You knew Jamie wouldn't be so mean as to ghost you for the kiss, but you couldn't help your brain drifting to that conclusion. No, Jamie wouldn't do that. It must be something else.
You look up the schedule of matches for Richmond for the next few weeks and sure enough, their next match is against Manchester City. You grew up in Manchester and knew just how strongly Man City supporters feel for their team, and how they feel about the ones who leave, too. It must be eating Jamie up going back there, especially now when you remember one of the last times they played against them.
Jamie had recounted to you in the past how his dad barged into the Richmond locker room after they'd lost the match, and how it took everything in him not to retaliate, but even then, he ended up punching him in the face. You held his hand and as if you signaled a green light, Jamie wrapped his arms around you and rested his head on your chest. You donât really know how long you two stayed that way, but you ended up waking up to the sound of three missed calls from Roy to Jamie at 4 am.
And so, you decide to spend your break next week back in Manchester. You open your phone to message your parents and the speed of your mom's reply displayed their excitement. Can't wait, sweetie! See you soon, Mom and Dad love you.
â
"Oh my god!" Your mom exclaims as she opens the door and envelopes you in a hug quickly. You arrived around lunchtime, the day before the match, hoping to have time to meet up with Jamie and talk before it, though you haven't even been able to tell him you were in Manchester, too. "Dad went out to buy ingredients for a cake âcause we didn't expect you to get here so early."
You pull away from here and shake your head, "You guys didn't have to do that, Mom." You drag your suitcase across the threshold and slam down on the couch as soon as you reach it.
"Well, we haven't seen you in months and you haven't been here in Manchester in years! We were planning to have a whole thing for your return." Your mom explains as walks into the kitchen to make you tea, like she always did when she came to visit. At least this time, she wasn't criticizing you for the lack of a tea selection in your flat.
"Why have you decided to visit? You usually invite us to go to London during your breaks." She asks, walking back in with a tray of cups and a teapot.
It would be too hard for you to explain that the major reason (or person) that stopped you from coming back all these years was now the exact reason why you chose to travel all the way to Manchester, so instead you settle with, "Just didn't want you guys to take the long trip this time."
By the time your dad gets back with his bags of groceries, you have already changed into a tank top and pajama pants while your mom already made a late lunch for you three. You finally explain to the two of them how you got back in touch with Jamie after all this time, carefully omitting the reasons for your falling out, and are now worried about him playing against Man City.
"I mean, I'm sure it's hard for a lot of the players to play against their old team, but Jamie having to play a match against the team he spent his whole life aspiring to be a part of? I'm scared he's too shaken up, and he's not telling me anything either." You let out an exasperated sigh, and look down at your hands. "I'm really worried."
Your mom reaches out to take one of your hands. "Hon, you've never not been worried about Jamie. Ever since you two were kids."
You keep a solemn expression on your face, to which your dad adds on, as he takes your other hand. "Just do what you always did. Be there for him, and make sure he knows it. He needs your support more than anything, especially now that you're back in his life."
You let out a sigh, trying to absorb what they've just said to you, but you were so tired from the travel that you move to the couch and just try to relax. You end up drifting off into the night till you wake up to a message from an unknown number.
(Y/N)? I hope this is your number, it's Keeley Jones. We met before at the gala? Anyway, I hope you get this because we're following Jamie somewhere. He's been acting weird and I wanted to ask if you knew any special place he'd go to when he's stressed or going through something.
You don't have time to properly understand what she's asking and just go with your first instinct: Georgie. You shout up the stairs to your parents that you're heading out and grab a sweatshirt from your bag as you run to their house. It almost feels like deja vu, considering they've barely changed the exterior of the place.
You knock on the door and are received by Simon, whose surprise at seeing you back in Manchester doesn't faze you. You reciprocate his welcoming hug before asking, "Is Georgie home?"
"Yeah, she's just upstairs," he moves aside to make way for you to get inside the house, and you nod to him before running up to the second floor.
"Georgie?" You call out, and the call of your own name signals her presence. You walk into the main bedroom, one you remember vividly from when Jamie would rope you into taking some money from Simon's wallet â you always apologized on his behalf â when you were teenagers.
"Oh my goodness, I completely forgot you were coming home today! My mind's been all over the place. Welcome back, 'hon," she envelops you in a hug, which you're grateful for, but as you break apart, she notices your look of urgency. "What's got you here in such a rush?"
"It's about Jamie," you get straight to the point. "I'm worried about him and it's just thatâ" you're interrupted by Simon calling out to her.
She excuses herself, but you follow after her as she asks, "What was that, love? Someone at the door?"Â
You turn to go down the stairs when you spot Jamie waiting at the bottom. Georgie runs to hug her son and while your heart warms at the sight of this reunion, the trance is broken when Jamie spots you.
"When did you get here?" His accent's a lot thicker back in his hometown, you notice.
"Just before you did," you reply, but seeing as he returns his attention back to his mom, you instead walk down the stairs and past them to join Keeley and Roy whom you awkwardly greet.
"Well, we've got quite a number of visitors today. Who wants some sweet treats?" He offers, and you decide it's best to follow him.
You should've known that Jamie's "special place" would be his childhood home, and maybe it was the nerves that stopped you from thinking clearly. Now, you were just glad he was with Georgie now, someone who always knew how to cheer him up.
"Help me carry them out, yeah?" Simon asks, and you happily oblige, taking one of the trays into your hands. "Do you think Roy likes sweets?"
You shrug, genuinely unsure of the manâs food preferences, but Simon seems undeterred. You head to the living room and glance at the Jamie photo shrine, which seems to have grown twice its size after all these years.
You sit down awkwardly next to Keeley who once again greets you warmly, and only allow yourself to glance at Jamie once. It's like he's gone back to being a kid again, resting in his mom's arms as he tells her everything that's bothering him.
After a while, Jamie looks like he's ready to open up, so Georgie tells Simon to tour Keeley and Roy around the house. He agrees, and calls out your name, "You should come with us, too. You probably know some parts of this house better than I do, mainly Jamie's room."
You know he meant that innocently, but you can't help but feel your cheeks heat up at the mention of it. You nod and get up quickly, but not before looking back at Jamie and giving him a small smile. He returns it, and a part of you eases at the sight of it. He's going to be fine.
The four of you start in the kitchen and Keeley interlocks your arm as you lean in, "Did you get my message?"
You nod, "That's why I ran here as soon as I could. Georgie's got it, don't worry." You watch her instantly relax at your words, and you're touched by how much she cares for Jamie, even after he'd been a less-than-perfect boyfriend to her in the past.
Simon continues the tour and every once in a while, Keeley would find you in the photos and squeal about how cute the two of you were in them. She'd left Roy with Simon to learn all about you, along with how it was growing up with Jamie.
You reach the second floor and as Simon walks over to the room where you'd spent at least a fraction of your childhood, you suddenly remember how it's decorated. You try to hold in your reaction as Simon starts, "Here is the main attraction. Jamie's room."
It's just like how you remember it, with all the trinkets you two played with, the pictures of wins, and the trophies he got for them. You even spot a trophy you made for him after his team got second place once.
Your attention is pulled away by Roy's reaction to his poster, "Fucking hell." You chuckle as Simon explains just how devoted Jamie was to it.
"Oh, meat pies are done. Excuse me," he closes the door, revealing your personal favorite poster: Keeley's.
"Fucking hell," she imitates her companion, and you laugh even louder. She turns to you, "Have these two always been there?"
"Yup," you confirm, still chuckling.
"So whenever you two had sleepovers," something you mentioned to her during the door, "those two pictures of us were just hovering about you like that? How'd you manage?"
"Ah well, I got desensitized after a bit, really. Only after I realized Jamie would never take them down, even when I stayed with them for weeks on end. Just closed my eyes and faced the wall."
You decide to show them your own house, pushing back the curtain and pointing at your window. "Look, that's my bedroom. Jamie used to throw pebbles or beer caps to get my attention."
After a few moments of looking around the room, you notice Roy and Keeley sitting down on Jamie's bed, seemingly wanting to talk about something. You decide to excuse yourself and head to the kitchen to help out Simon, and also hopefully get the first taste of the meat pies.
You catch up with Jamie's step-dad as he checks on his pastries. Most of the times you've hung out with Simon were filled with him simply talking about his baking methods and new recipes he was trying out. But after a small lull, Simon's eyes lit up, and went out to grab something to show you.
"I sent a picture of this to Jamie back when I found it. Not sure if he showed it to you, but it is quite cute, don't you think?" He hands you a small photo of you and Jamie in the kitchen as teenagers. The way Jamie looked at you in it, you wondered how you'd feel now if he did it again. Of course, youâve never been too careful with your surroundings, considering how youâve never noticed the way Jamieâs eyes lit up every time he even just looked at you.
"Yeah, it's quite nice." You hear footsteps coming your way and hear a voice call out your name. You sit up when Jamie enters. "Hey, could we talk?"
Suddenly, all your nerves come back tenfold. You walk over to him and you head back to the living room, where Georgie is preparing to leave to give you two some space.
The first thing Jamie says as you two sit down is, "I'm sorry." Before you could even respond, he continues, "I didn't mean to ghost you and everything, I just... I was stressed getting ready for this match and going back here to Manchester and I didn't want to dump all of it on you. I'm really sorry."
"Jamie, you don't have anything to apologize for. You didn't do anything wrong and yeah, I missed you, but you needed space and I was okay with giving you that.â The footballer nods as if heâs digesting what youâve just said. You take his hand into yours and decide to take your fatherâs advice, as you start, âIf it's any consolation to the nerves youâre feeling, I hope you know that I'll always be here. The people that do love you will always be there to support you, including me." He smiles, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach again.
"I missed you, too, by the way. Especially with the last time we saw each other at the match," he whispers and suddenly you can feel yourself blushing again.
"Yeah, we should talk about it," you offer, but you knew that there really wasn't much to say about it all. Staying in limbo between friends and something more wasn't always a bad thing, especially when it was with Jamie. The footballer already seemed to know what he wanted to ask you, but before he could even start, the house phone rang.
Simon comes into the living room, and informs you, "It's your mum, she's asking when you're heading back to the house?"
"In a bit," you tell him and he nods. You turn back to Jamie who's trying to hold back his disappointment at being interrupted. You start, "Maybe you guys should start heading back, too. It's getting late."
He nods, "Right." Jamie gets up from his seat and pulls you up in the process, before realizing something. "Do you want to come to the match tomorrow? I think I'll need the extra support. Plus, you were always my good luck charm before."
"Sure. You're lucky I brought my AFC Richmond shirt with me, too. I was just going to wear it around the neighborhood honestly."
"You should. Make sure everyone knows who your favorite Premier League player is." Jamie teases.
"Yup, Dani Rojas." You retort and he pretends to walk away offended, but you pull Jamie in and kiss his cheek as he wraps his arm around your shoulders.
"Come on, love, I'll bring you back to your house before we go. Like old times," Jamie offers and you happily oblige. You say goodbye to Georgie and Simon and Jamie leads you out the door and to your house.
It takes a few minutes before you can convince your parents to let go of Jamie this time, but you finally manage and promise to see him before the match tomorrow. He surprises you with a kiss goodbye before he jogs back to his house to get Roy and Keeley, looking back at you once more.
â
If you excuse your heart nearly stopping when Jamie got tackled, that may have been one of the best matches you've ever had the pleasure to watch in person. You had no idea what Ted said to Jamie that caused the sudden change in him, but the spark in the player suddenly came back. Getting back onto the pitch, hyping up the crowd's heckling â which you couldn't lie, turned you on a bit, â and even managing to make the goal with an injury? Only Jamie fucking Tartt could manage that.
Considering you had only planned to stay for the game and now had to make it all the way to London, it was a miracle that Keeley instead invited you to join them on the bus to head back. You rushed home to collect your things and say goodbye to your parents â who were already planning to visit you the week after, â and headed to the hotel as the team was loading up onto the bus.
Keeley was there waiting for you and planned to introduce you to the team, but considering a good number of them recognized you from the gala and the other members were too busy celebrating, you instead quietly made your way to the back of the bus where Jamie was resting, while she left to go ride the car with Rebecca.
Considering he had to stretch out the leg over a number of chairs, the coaches instead opted to sit in the middle of the bus, right in the action, as Ted called it.
While everyone celebrated, Jamie still seemed to be wrapping his head around it. He notices you in front of him and smiles widely. "Mind if I join you?" He moves a bit over to make some space for you next to him. "How're you feeling?"
He moves to wrap his arm around your waist and pulls you closer, "Good, better since I get to celebrate beating City." He pumps his fist in the air and you don't understand why you still find it endearing. He scans your body before announcing, "I like your shirt." He plants a kiss on your shoulder before looking back up at you.
"Thanks, Jamie. And what did I tell you? You were great! I'll lose my voice tomorrow from how loud I was cheering you on. Do you know how much energy it takes to be louder than all the booing?" You mention, and all Jamie could do was chuckle. âBut it was worth it. So you knew there was at least one person in the crowd cheering you on for the entire match.â
"Thank you," His face falls slightly, as if realizing something, but picks up before he confesses, "I think I might messaged my dad." You turn to look at him properly, but there's no sign of fear in him; only relief. "I, uh, I don't think he was there today, but Ted told me I could at least try to forgive him. Not for his sake, but mine. I don't know, it made sense at the time, butâ"
It's your turn now to interrupt him with a kiss. You're lucky no one has decided to look at the back of the bus this whole time. You hold his face as you do so and after a bit of shock, he reciprocates it. After, you wrap your arms around him. "I'm proud of you, Jamie. And I'll be here if you need any help with the message or just want some support when you do it, okay?"
Jamie has a soft expression on his face and smiles at you once again. He laughs at himself before remembering something the two of you left hanging last night, "So, now that all that is out of the way, don't you think we should talk about... this?" He gestures at the position the two of you are in, with your arms wrapped around his torso and his arm draped on your shoulders.
"What about it?" You try and act coy, but you can barely keep a straight face. "We're just friends who reunited after so many years. It's perfectly normal."
He laughs before replying, "It's just," Jamie hesitates a bit, before looking you straight in the eyes and adding, "I don't think friends kiss as often as we do, love."
"That is true," You pretend to think before asking, "Well, what do you want me to be then?"
"My girlfriend, maybe. Since best friend doesn't sound right anymore."
"No, not really. Plus, Liv will definitely fight you for it and that is a match you are not going to win." you exaggerate your headshake and laugh, before leaning into him. "But girlfriend sounds good. Though, I do have standards for my boyfriend."
"Oh, yeah?" Jamie tilts his head and smirks, and you almost fold then and there.
"Yup," you confirm and turn away to list them. "He should be tall, handsome, funny, overly confident but rightfully so, a great football player, knows nearly everything about me including my favorite singer, â "Stevie Nicks, duh," he interjects, â loves my cooking, and me, obviously." You stop before looking back at him and faking an epiphany, "Oh, and his name should be Jamie Tartt."
He takes a minute to think, before nodding, "Pretty sure I fit all those requirements, love." He laughs as he turns to you.
"Yeah? Well, alright then." You move to kiss him once more as Jamie pulls you closer by your waist.
He pulls away, but keeping you in that position before whispering, "I love you, so much."
"I love you, too." You whisper back.Â
But as you rest your head on his shoulder, some of his teammates decided to move the celebration towards the back of the bus. "Mind if we sit here?" Sam asks politely, though a little louder than he meant. You nod as some of the players start taking the seats around the two of you.
You can tell on their faces they knew something happened between you two, but neither mentioned it and instead continued their celebration with their striker.
You turn back to Jamie, who gives you a sweet, goofy grin when he notices your eyes on him, and all you can do is be grateful for this moment.
At age 7, you believed your best friend Jamie would be in your life forever. At age 19, you believed your best friend Jamie Tartt was gone.
But now, nearly two decades since that little Mancunian boy kicked that ball over the fence, you realize that you had gotten in right at seventeen. Your best friend Jamie Tartt would be the only boy, man, you'd ever truly loved. And you wouldn't want it any other way.
At age 7, Jamie Tartt thought you were his best friend. At age 19, he thought you were his biggest weakness.Â
But at age 26, he realized that only one thing has remained the same all these years: he is in love with you. That is the ultimate truth. And that's all he needed. You're all he needed.
A/N: yay! we only have the epilogue left, but i'm excited! honestly, i couldn't bring myself to make it anymore angsty, especially because they've already been through a lot. hope you all enjoyed this and thank you again for reading!
TAGLIST: @moonflowersandsparkles @faith-alons26 @rexorangecouny @aiyaiy @thegirlthatwantedtowrite @giggling-sewer-ginger @katdahlali @higherthanheroes @guccilongboard @alipap3 @rockchickrebel @ellietartt @shineforever19 @skewedcherries @jamietarttdodo @meg-ro @deepdarkvelvet @taytaylala12 @loveforaugust @crownofdecitreadingrespectfully @dickgraysonspersonalwhore @jess4rush @scaramou @rae4725 @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo (couldn't tag you for some reason?)
#jamie tartt#jamie tartt x reader#jamie tartt reader#ted lasso#jamie tartt fanfiction#jamie tartt imagine#jamie tartt fic#ted lasso fanfic#jamie tartt fanfic#jamie tartt x f!reader#jamie tartt x female reader#it's nice to have a friend series
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The Night Before
Summary: The time shared before Jake leaves for deployment.
Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader
Warning: mentions of deployment, time spent apart, slight angst, some fluff
Read More: Coming Home (Can be read as Part 2)
You knew what you were getting into when you'd agreed to your first date together. It didn't mean that you were prepared for it. Dating a Naval Aviator, one of the best who was in a squadron with other, equally talented aviators, it was only a matter of time before the Navy called on them again.
You'd met Jake after the dagger squad had returned from their first mission together, before they had been grouped together permanently. Your first date together had gone so much better than you had thought it would, but Jake had amazed you with. You learned that he was more than his dazzling green eyes. He was smart, witty, and compassionate.
Now, 3 months later you found yourself in his living room, cuddling up next to him on the couch. He'd turned on a movie at some point after the two of you had spent hours memorizing the lines of each others bodies. His hand was resting on your knee and your head was laying against his arm. You were trying to soak up as much of him as you could before he left tomorrow, breathing in the smell of his cologne and basking in the warmth of his skin against yours.
"Where's your pretty little mind, Sweetheart?" Jake asked, his voice soft and low as he whispered in your ear.
You shrugged, turning your head so that your voice was muffled into his chest.
He rubbed your knee gently, "Babe, you know I can't understand you when you do that. Come on, what are you thinking about?"
"Just tomorrow," you told him, picking your head up a little so he could hear you. "I'm going to miss you."
Jake's chest vibrated with the little hum that he let out in understanding. He brought his hand up from where it was, maneuvering you as he wrapped it around your shoulders to bring you closer to him. "I'm going to miss you, too."
You felt him press a light kiss to the top of your head. Tilting your head up, your eyes locked onto his and you tried to memorize the exact shade of green they were and the number of eyelashes that framed their perfect shape.
He was looking at you like he was trying to drink in every detail. His eyes roaming every inch of your face as he gazed down at you.
"I'm going to write to you everyday," you promised him.
He smiled, teeth glinting from the light of the television. "It might get tedious."
"Not if it's you that I'm writing to," you told him.
His eyes softened, "You'll keep me updated about the squirel that's digging into your flower bed?"
"I'll write you a play-by-play of every movement he makes and I'll write to you about everything that happens at work -"
"You'd better. I need to keep up with the tea at your job so that I know if that bitch, Martha pulls any shit again." Jake was smirking mischievously but you knew how to read him now and he couldn't hide the very real sadness that was taking over him.
"I wouldn't want to tell anyone else," you assure him.
Jake nods and looks away from you down the hall where his office is. You haven't been in there a lot, but from the times that you've stayed the night, you knew the layout of his house. "If anything goes wrong," he begins, "Everything that you'd need to know is in the office. I know you're planning on popping in here every so often to check on things, but I've left all of my documents in case something happens in the upper left drawer."
You're glad he's not looking at you when he speaks, his words causing your stomach to twist unpleasantly, but you nod anyway. It's important to him that you know this, even if neither of you enjoy the topic.
"You'll come back to me," your words come out more hesitant than you had intended.
Jake's eyes snap back to yours, earnest determination shining brightly in them. "I will always, always do everything I can to try to make it back to you."
It should've scared both of you, the amount of commitment you were showing to each other so early in the relationship but neither of you could deny how right it felt to be with the other. His words, you knew, would echo around your head while he was gone, soothing you on the long nights without him.
You reached up to cup his face with your hand, bringing him closer for a deep kiss. The taste of him was an elixir that you could get drunk off of. The feeling of his hands around you, pulling you closer to him until a slip of paper wouldn't fit between you was a drug that you were addicted to.
You broke apart, breathing heavily with your forehead pressed against his. Wrapping his arms securely around your waist, he stood and carried you back into his bedroom, laying you down on the mattress with heartbreaking gentleness. Jake crawled in behind you and you fit your legs between his, curling into his body. The sheets were cool now, but still tussled from your time spent in them earlier.
He was tracing shapes along the small of your back as you played with the blonde hair on his chest. "Can I have your Longhorns sweater while you're gone?"
Jake hummed, "Of course."
"And can you spray it with your cologne?" You were both whispering now, some part of you knowing that to speak any louder was to break the bubble you were both living in. You'd do anything to keep him here in this bed with you and keep time from moving forward, pulling him away from you.
"Mmhmm," his eyes were falling shut, despite his obvious attempts at keeping them open.
"Sleep," you whispered. "You're going to need it."
Jake forced his heavy eyelids open, "I wanted to spend more time with you."
You pulled the covers higher up his chest, "I'll still be here."
"Talk to me," he asked, voice groggy. "Want your voice... Sleep better."
You pressed a small kiss to his skin, watching as his chest rose and fell with each breath. You licked your lips and began talking about everything mundane you could think of. Small, unimportant topics that you'd miss talking to him about while he was gone.
It didn't take long for his breathing to even out and for his hands to stop tracing against your skin. You stayed awake, gazing at him and taking mental pictures for you to remember. Your heart was beating painfully in your chest, a small crack forming as it prepared for the anguish that always filled you when the thought of being separated from the man you loved came up.
You knew that Jake would do his best to talk to you as often as he could. He'd already promised to call and write letters as often as he was allowed, but it was your first deployment as a couple. There was a part of you that was afraid that he'd come back and decide that you weren't the person he wanted anymore. You had no idea if this deployment would change him as much as his squad said the last one had.
His soft snore shook you from your thoughts. You ran your fingers through his hair so softly as to not wake him. "I love you," you whispered the secret into his chest. The way you always did when you had your buried your head in there, speaking the words directly to his heart and hoping that each time you spoke them that he'd feel the weight of them there long after you'd said it.
You settled next to him, curling around him. You cleared your mind of all thoughts of the morning and let his breathing soothe you to sleep.
When Jake was sure that you were sleeping soundly next to him he allowed himself a small smile and whispered, "I love you too."
#jake seresin#jake hangman seresin#top gun x reader#top gun maverick#jake seresin x reader#hangman x reader#applebutter and cinnamon masterlist
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i LOVED the new eye in the sky chap! of course, you have the soul-crushing rage-inducing angst pile on bruce's end, but i also really appreciated the duke-hal moment; he's so level-headed about the situation that you don't really build up too much stress over him, but then you brought in a different kind of heartbreak with the realization that he's been in this position enough times to know that the least provoking thing he can do is to do nothing at all.
and the FUTURESPEAKING jesus CHRIST â itâs a different type, but your time manipulation fuckery is almost equally as hard to wrap your head around as the stuff in tenet (the nolan movie), it's genuinely so impressive. (sorry, i'm just gonna run my mouth here for a minute, but the idea really caught me and now i Have to share all my thoughts just to get them out of my brain, though i hope that you'll be generous enough to weigh in as wellđ
) i'd imagine that there's actually relatively very few people, in-universe, who can do this so that duke hears it correctly, because you have to be able to focus your mind and put enough intent into the idea that you're about to say something that it "registers" as the imminent futureâwhich means that you have to, at the same time, be completely repressing your knowledge that you're NOT going to actually vocalize whatever it is, because that intention would obviously counteract the first. and THEN, to make what's already quite a tough mental exercise even more impressive, bruce is: thinking of a futurespeak-response, putting enough focus/intent behind it for that future to crystallize (and again, it's a double-headed task, because of the repression required as well), and then cutting that off in order to think of and say something completely different, *all in about just the same amount of time a normal person would take to respond naturally in a conversation.* (also, slightly less mind-boggling but still quite impressive to me and i want to give him his props: duke, in that last bit at the end at least, is maintaining both his awareness in the present and the mental effort of using his powers to see the future, in order to hear the exact same voice say two different things at the same time, and is able to not only maintain the background effort needed to hear both things, but is taking in enough detail to see/hear/notice "both" bruces' tone and body language. ...i mean, maybe that's not so impressive to people without auditory processing issues lmao, but as someone who's constantly asking people to repeat themselves, or really having to focus on the sounds when somebody's speaking to me, even in one-on-one conversations, it certainly impressed me!)
anyways, yeah, this just inspired a lot of interesting trains of thought for me and i wanted to share lol. your fics are always such great reads, can't wait for your next update! Hope you're wellđ
Thank you so much!!!! You absolutely nailed what I was trying to get at with Dukeâs powers. I really didnât want over explain it and have people roll their eyes, but I also didnât want to leave readers mystified as to what he was doing.
Duke and Bruce are supremely well matched in this fic for that reason among many others â Bruce has a freaky brain and understands time/intention well enough to be able to think, speak, and re-speak that quickly.
He can compartmentalize like no one else. I am not obviously that smart, but the way I thought about it was playing competing melodies on the piano with two different hands - once you find the rhythm, the way they work off each other, you can maintain both easily. Where they gap, where they overlap, where they compete for your attention.
Duke is good at glimpsing a few seconds forward/back but definitely not for long periods. Like Bruce said, heâs going to need help to train that and avoid burning himself out! Luckily heâs just listening and not double speaking like Bruce is.
Someone on ao3 left me this in the comment section and theyâre so right lol:
I feel bad for Hal, just a little, just like Duke does. He was tortured by Kal essentially, and where he does want to hurt Bruce (a lot) there are still some lines he wonât cross. I donât know if that makes him redeemable or just not entirely beyond redemption. I think Bruce seems to know this too â teasing him with that moral code he used to hold so tightly to.
It was definitely a fun space to play around in! Writing this fic is difficult for me (agh worldbuilding) but whenever I try Iâm pleasantly surprised by how much fun I have. Thank you so much for reading!!
#asks#thank you!#myfic#bruce wayne#batman#dc#theresurrectionist#clark kent#eye in the sky#injustice#injustice gods among us#Hal jordan#green lantern#yellow lantern#Duke Thomas
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UPDATES!!!
"I've lived my life with blade and you always in my mind"
Pairing/s: Hoshina Soshiro x Fiancee!OC
Note/s: Got a prior engagement for the whole day today so I couldn't write but I finally got to make a scheduleđ€đ I'll try very hard to stick to it so you'll know when you can read the next partsđ
Masterlist: TOC, a
June 11 (Tuesday)
Note/s: Side stories are currently in writing! It still takes place before the main timeline so yeahhhh
b. Jealousy, Jealousy
Uzui Kagami admires Captain Ashiro Mina but that doesn't mean it didn't bother her whenever she hears Soshiro talk about her all of the time.
Hoshina Soshiro doesn't really think of Captain Narumi Gen as a threat but with how clingy he is to Kagami, boy does it feel annoying.
c. We promised to take care of each other, didn't we? [Fluff, Hurt/Comfort]
After their very first mission as Defense Force Officers, Kagami and Soshiro promised to take care of each other when they got injured. That means taking the entire day/week off just to nurse them back to health.
A few years have passed since then without any significant injuries, that's why it came as a surprise to Kagami when a certain someone came knocking at the First Division's front doors.
June 13 (Thursday)
Note/s: Finally got to the main story! Might be a bit cliche but I'll try to write it the best that I canđ„č! I might change the titles to better fit the contents. Intro focuses on Kagami while the rest is all about the twođ«¶đ«¶đ«¶
Intro: When foundations fall apart [Angst]
Kagami doesn't know what to do with all the pressure. So she decided to make a judgment without a second thought thinking it's for the better. It doesn't matter if she's unhappy, she's used to people taking away what she loves.
1. You are so far out of my reach now [Angst]
Kagami thinks that with how pathetic she is: being a burnt out adult, useless platoon leader, talentless heir, unreliable fiancee; as someone who succumbed to the pressure, she no longer deserves to be by his side. So she pushes him away.
June 15 (Saturday)
Note/s: This will be my first time writing anything spicyđ¶ïž so I really need a lot of courage cuz f^ck I might die out of embarrassment while writing from how much it feel like I am commiting a grave sinđđđ
2. I'll show you just how much you mean to me [NSFW]
Soshiro, who didn't notice just how much pressure Kagami was experiencing, felt extremely guilty. He thought he's been expressing his love for her clearly but it seems like it wasn't enough. So he better make sure his beloved fiancee will understand it all night long.
#hoshina soshiro#kaiju no. 8#soshiro hoshina#hoshina soshiro x reader#soshiro hoshina x reader#hoshina soshiro x oc#soshiro hoshina x oc#yukikhun
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as i'm re-reading 'men are so quick to blame gods' (for like the 3rd time it's so good) what hit me is - how is yuuji going to deal with the mc almost dying? i mean, yes sukuna being so moved by love that he's able to push him down and be by her side is both sweet and heartbreaking but that's also yuujis gf who he loves and he's just what, unconscious? and the last thing he's seen is her, looking dead in a pool of blood...
(((again, i love the story, can't wait for updates<3333)))
hey there nonnie!! thank you for your love of the series!<3 i really appreciate you taking the time to consider this aspect of the story!!
sooo obviously in the warehouse, sukuna forcibly took control of his vessel, but i left it a bit more ambiguous as to how/why he was in control when gojo came by to visit.
this is how i would conceptualize the aftermath between he and yuuâ
sukuna and yuuji haven't discussed what happened at the warehouse, even if it was the first time sukuna had ever assumed control of his vessel's body by force.
sukuna doesn't try to do so again. for now, he's too preoccupied with your condition.
but that doesn't mean the occurrence hasn't nestled itself somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind. was it a one time thing, driven by his desperation to save you? or did it open a door and give him the freedom to do so as he pleases? and if that is the case, what would that mean for him?
yuuji, on the other hand, is too busy with the guilt riddling his every thought. he can't get the image of your near lifeless body out of his head. he can't get over the way he just stood there frozen and staring.
he's forced to grapple with his morality, a notion that he's always held in high regard. he knew those sorcerers. he'd even gone on missions with some of them.
and now they're all dead, save for one. would he have been able to bring himself to kill them eventually, or would his feet have stayed planted on the concrete while the last bit of life you were clinging onto slipped away?
would it have been wrong of him to value your life over their's? sorcerers do nasty work for the general good, and he's already seen enough of his comrades die as it is... can he really say that killing them all was the best option?
so he's in agonyâ caught between his usual selflessness and his desire to be a good lover to you.
perhaps you deserve someone willing to throw morality out the window if it means you'll live to see another sunrise.
and so he and sukuna wordlessly alternate between who is in control, seeming to have an understanding on some level neither of them fully comprehend.
yuuji sits at your bedside, your hand in his and his mind in disarray. sukuna does the same, performing rct in timely intervals and praying to the gods he doesn't particularly believe in.
#m!answers#m!writes#masq#sukuna x reader#sukuna imagines#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen imagines#jjk x reader#jjk imagines
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I am a stupid person. Where should I begin reading about economics.
update: added pdfs for the books
where you should begin depends on what you want to know. my response is long so i'm putting it under a readmore
if you want to know about economic theory, that's one thing; if you want to know about economics in practice (i.e. the way economies operate), that's another. these things are related, but they're often in separate books.
if there's something you want to know about specifically feel free to ask--i may or may not be able to provide a suggestion on what you should read. my wheelhouse is mainly international economics and political economy so note that my recommendations are not the end-all-be-all of the field.
i've uploaded pdfs for all of these books here: https://gofile.io/d/hDB9vU i wasn't able to find a pdf of the 2020 edition of the Frieden but i was able to find the 2017 edition.
the first recommendation i have is unfortunately a textbook. theoretical foundations are important đ
An Introduction to International Economics: New Perspectives on the World Economy by Kenneth Reinert
this book's focus is primarily on neoclassical economic theory (which is often what people mean when they say "economics"), but it provides a strong foundation for thinking about markets, trade, and currencies.
i also want to note here that economic theories are best thought of as lenses through which to look at phenomena. all of these lenses illuminate some things and obfuscate others. so the utility of a given theory is dependent upon what you're trying to examine.
2. The Travels of a T-Shirt in the Global Economy: An Economist Examines the Markets, Power, and Politics of World Trade by Pietra Rivoli
this book is a lot of fun, and falls pretty squarely into the "political economy" camp. Rivoli takes as her subject a t-shirt from a walgreens in florida (if memory serves), and follows the chain of production, to find out how it got there--as well as where shirts like it might go after being purchased. along the way she looks at the dynamics of production in practice, so she looks at the role of labor, firms, governments, brokers, etc.
i would almost recommend starting with this one or reading it alongside the Reinert so you aren't raw-dogging a textbook.
3. Global Capitalism: Its Fall and Rise in the Twentieth Century and Its Stumbles in the Twenty-First by Jeffry Frieden
for this one, you'll want to read the 2020 edition because the 2007 edition doesn't talk about the global financial crisis of 2008. this is a book that really is what it says on the tin--a history of global capitalism. it's particularly useful for understanding the origins and consequences of the postwar economic order. it contains some good discussions of keynesian economics and the neoliberal school of thought that followed.
4. World-Systems Analysis: An Introduction by Immanuel Wallerstein
this one's not a crucial read, but it covers a different way of thinking about basic economic units in international economics (i.e. not limiting one's economic analysis to nation-state units but instead thinking about the global economy as a system).
5. Running Steel, Running America by Judith Stein
i've put this book here because the latter half of the book essentially goes through how and why american production changed in the latter half of the 20th century, focusing chiefly on the production of steel. (this is another political economy book.) Stein illustrates the consequences of US foreign policy for the domestic economy, particularly during the 1970s--a crucial period. the whole book is worth reading, but the first half deals more with labor and politics so it's not directly related to your question.
feel free to reach out if you have more questions or need clarification on something heređ
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