#(plus it's disgusting but also that's the damn goal)

[a-aexotic]

Could you write something around the sentence “I’d choose you over anyone” with Rafe :))) preferably kinda enemies (or friends) to lovers angsty type of thing xx thank you!!

ren's notes hey! of course i can, enemies to lovers w/ rafe is literally my dream ugh. y/n out here living the dream. ALSO im sorry i totally forgot about the prompt :(

pairing. rafe cameron x fem!reader requested? yes no

warnings. drinking, mention of hickies, enemies to lovers, ooc sarah/rafe, angst to fluff

summary. being best friends with sarah, it was natural to hate rafe. you hate him and he hates you, or that's what everyone else though.

➜ missing out on updates? ❪ navigation. masterlist. taglist. ❫

As long as you could remember, you hated Rafe Cameron. From the very beginning, you hated him - ever since you'd move in next to the Cameron's, you and Rafe had been at each other's throats. It was something that had become a norm for the Cameron's and the L/N's.

You and Rafe are too similar. You guys are both hotheaded, blunt and kind of reckless. You guys are too similar to around each other, it was like forcing two negatives together; it would cause them to want to explode on one another.

As you got older, the more mature you got. And naturally, you wanted this stupid rivalry between you two to end. But if there was anything you knew about Rafe, it was that he was not mature.

So now he loved pressing your buttons, going over the line and getting on your nerves. He loved it, it was his favorite part of the day; seeing you all flustered and bothered when he made a snide remark that you didn't have a response to. It was his goal, to see you all embarrassed and annoyed.

Rafe knew you surprisingly, very well. You'd been best friends with Sarah since you had moved in next door and he'd heard all your secrets when you and Sarah would have sleepovers. He made it a point to learn all your weak points and secrets, not use them against you... Well, maybe sometimes, but just for fun. Again, it was a fun hobby for the bored Cameron sibling.

Everyone who knew Rafe or you knew you two had despised each other. That was just a fact of the island, everyone knew it.

You walked into the Cameron's house on a mission; find the heels that Sarah had stole from you so you could prove to yourself (and Sarah) that you weren't crazy. Those heels didn't just grow legs and walk, did they? You didn't have a little sister and the only person who consistently borrows and never returns your clothes is Sarah.

You knew Sarah would be at John B's today so this was the perfect time. You walked upstairs and barged into Sarah's room, walking to her closet and looking through her shoes.

To most people, that was considered "crossing a boundary," but you and Sarah were basically sisters at that point so looking through her clothes to find an item you were missing wasn't out of the ordinary. You wouldn't do that if she would just put the damned items back.

And plus you needed those heels asap, tonight was Midsummers. It was the event of the summer and you loved dressing up in cute dresses and nice heels; you'd been planning the outfit for months. You made the outfit surrounding the heels: without the heels, your outfit would be nothing. You already bought a matching dress and a Tiffany necklace, now all you needed were the heels.

Sarah swore she didn't have them, but who else would take them?

You were looking through her shirts and you found the Reputation shirt you were looking for two months ago, who she also swore she didn't have. You scoffed, "Bitch."

The more you looked, the more frustrated you were because you could not find the heels anywhere. You heard a knock at the door and sighed, "Come in."

Rafe walked in and his face contorted into a disgusted one. "Ew, you're not Sarah."

"Shut up, Rafe. God, do you have anything better to do? Shouldn't you be golfing with thing 1 and thing 2 right now?" You groaned and he couldn't help but laugh at your nicknames for Top and Kelce.

"Shouldn't you be making out with your gross Pogue boyfriend?" He countered, making you roll your eyes again.

"JJ's not my boyfriend."

He sighed, "Good, I was hoping you wouldn't go as low as dating a Pogue. Anyway, what are you doing in Sarah's room?"

You furrowed your brows at his words before sighing. "I can't find the pair of heels I was going to wear at Midsummers and I think I might just end it all."

"You should, it'd be great for the world." Rafe smirked and you put your head in your arms, groaning in frustration. You didn't need Rafe's snarkiness right now, you just wanted to find those heels.

"Wait." He paused. "Are they uh, pink and glittery?"

You turned your head up, looking at Rafe with a suspicious glint in your eye. "Yeah..."

"Oh, shit." He walked away and then returned a few seconds later with your heels in his hands. You got up and ran to him, grabbing them from his hands.

"Why would take them! What the hell, Rafe? Are you crazy?"

He sighed and rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Lower your fucking voice, jesus. You're so loud. I didn't take them, okay? They just ended up in my room and I thought one of the girls I had over left them, okay?"

You scoffed in disgust. "You're gross."

"Don't act like you haven't had a boy over, Y/N. I know you have, you make it so obvious with your hickies and shit." Rafe spoke, sighing with an ounce of jealousy in voice. You almost thought you misheard it.

You felt your face heat up at mention of hickies. "They're not hickies they're rashes, okay? My neck is sensitive."

He laughed, "Alright sure. Sensitive neck, my ass."

You rolled your eyes for what seemed like the millionth time that day as you walked through the door of Sarah's bedroom, making it a goal to make sure to hit Rafe's shoulder on the way out.

"So immature," you mumbled.

Rafe smiled as he watched you walk away, his goal accomplished. Leave you flustered and annoyed, check. He walked back to his room with a wide grin.

As you walked back your house, heels in hand, you kept picturing Rafe's annoying smirk. It kept replaying in your mind and you feel yourself burning up at the thought of the older brother.

You wanted to slap yourself, were you crazy? Why were you acting like that over Rafe? You hated him more than anyone else in the world, he made your life unnecessarily annoying. So why does your heart skip a beat when you see his annoyingly perfect smile?

This has been happening for the last couple months and you feel yourself becoming more and more vulnerable with every remark he makes: you can never counter them, your mind going blank. You felt stupid and weak, you couldn't just let Rafe win this decade long fight. You weren't going to let him.

--

You and Sarah were at your house, getting ready for Midsummers. This was your favorite event of the year - in all honesty, you loved how classy it made you feel. The dances, the champagne, everyone else looking on the inside, jealous. It was a secret pleasure you happily took part in; I mean, what's the point of being a Kook if you can't flex it?

"See, I told you I didn't take it." Sarah mumbled annoyed as she did her eyeshadow.

You scoffed, "then how'd it end up in Rafe's room?"

She looked back at you with a smirk, "I don't know, you tell me."

The same burning sensation had came onto your face as you shook your head in annoyance, turning back to curling your hair. "God, you're gross for even... even suggesting that."

"Suggesting what, Y/N? You're the one with the dirty mind, I never said anything."

"God, shut up! My parents could hear us, y'know?"

Sarah laughed at your displeasure. "Are you excited to meet up with Nick?"

You smiled. Nick was your longtime crush; you've liked him since seventh grade and you just had the nerve to ask him out now. He was the hottest guy in OBX: he was a football player, he was smart, had pretty eyes you could stare into for hours long and soft curly hair. He was your dream guy and he agreed to be your date to Midsummers.

"Yes, I am. I hope he thinks I'm pretty-"

Sarah scoffed at you. "Of course he will, you are pretty. Don't even say that, who cares what he thinks?"

"I kind of do, I mean I've liked him for so long, I don't know what I'd do if he didn't like me back." You confided in Sarah. She looked back you, sympathetically.

"Well, I mean... He agreed to be your date for Midsummers, that's a good start."

You nodded in response. "Yeah! It is."

You both finished with your hair and makeup, now all you had to do was get dressed. You had bought this pink dress to match with your heels and your hair was curled and in an half up half down hairstyle. You also had bought a new Tiffany necklace to tie the whole look together.

Sarah wore her white dress and cute headpiece. You looked in the mirror and you were genuinely proud of yourself for making this outfit come true.

"Wow, that dress is stunning on you." Sarah was breathless; you look beyond beautiful; you looked flawless. You smiled at her.

"Thank you, Sarah. You too. I love that dress on you, it's perfect."

You and Sarah eventually got the texts from your ride, your crush and date, Nick. He was outside waiting for you guys. You tried not to squeal with excitement as you walked down the stairs, your dress perfectly flowing. You already felt like the night was going to be the most magical and a night to remember.

His Benz was waiting outside for you and Sarah and she smirked at you. "You excited?"

"Yes, I can't wait to dance with him." You whispered to her as she opened the door for you. His friend was already in the front seat so you and Sarah were in the back.

"Ladies first."

You giggled at Sarah's words as you went in, taking a seat. Sarah came in right after you. The smell of strong cologne immediately hit you, with a faint smell of weed. You scrunched your nose as you held your breathe; surprisingly, those two smells weren't the best mixture of smells.

"Wow, I like your dress, Y/N." His friend commented and you waited for Nick's reply. He was on his phone, taking a snap before he realized that he needed to answer. He turned to you with a big smile.

"Uh, yeah. It's gorgeous." He started the car and you lent back in your seat, content with his answer. Sarah glared at him before looking back at you. You ignored her disapproval. He then took his friend's vape pen and took another hit.

The ride there wasn't as magical as you thought it would be. You and Sarah were the only ones talking as the country music on the radio in the background making it somewhat even more awkward. Luke Combs wasn't exactly the artist you wanted to listen to right now.

His friend turned to you and Sarah. "You wanna pregame?"

You and Sarah both shared a look before both shaking your heads. Tonight wasn't about getting drunk or high to either of you. Nick nodded though.

"Yes sir, gimme."

His friend laughed before taking out a few fireball shots, handing one to Nick.

"You sure you wanna be taking that... Uh, now?" Sarah spoke up, refering to him drinking and driving. He waved her off, nodding.

"We'll be fine, it's one shot." He made his friend open the bottle and he quickly took the shot, making him shake his head and let out a loud "Woo." His friend soon did the same.

You couldn't have gotten to the Club any quicker; you wanted to leave the air immediately. Maybe Nick would act a little better once you were in front of their parents.

You and Sarah exited the car and so did the boys. Nick went up to you and took your arm in his, smiling down at you. "Okay, let's go dance."

You smiled. You texted him the first you wanted to do when you got to Midsummers was dance and he remembered. How cute was he?

Sarah was awkwardly standing beside you guys as you walked in. You were so excited you could barely contain it, you squeezed his arm. "I'm so excited!"

Sarah excused herself so she could find and talk Wheezie instead of third wheeling with you.

He hummed in response as he took you the dancefloor, putting his hands on your waist as you put your arms around his neck. The night was as magical as they come; clear starry sky, the sound of faint music coming from inside and the waves crashing onto the beach.

You see Nick's gaze shift to someone behind you and he looked like he'd just seen a ghost. He lets go of you and clears his throat. "Let me uh, go get us some drinks."

You were confused but you nodded along. He walked away and you were by yourself, standing there waiting for Nick to return. You stood there for 15 minutes before deciding that maybe you should go check up on him. You were beginning to worry.

You looked all over the bar and you couldn't find him. You found his friend from before and as he caught your gaze, he had suddenly became tense and nervous.

"Hey, uh. Do you know where Nick went?"

"Nope. Not a clue." His friend replied as you furrowed your eyebrows in suspicion. If anyone knew where Nick was, it was obviously going to be him.

You heard some snuffling in the back and you moved your gaze to behind the boy. There was a door. You quickly walked away to the door and knocked.

"Uh, you shouldn't go in-"

When there was no answer, you opened it to see a girl you had never seen before and Nick. She was on a table and he was in front of her, exchanging spit.

Your heart dropped at the scene, your mouth flew open. "What the hell?!" You shouted.

Nick had turned around and seen you and his eyes widened and he immediately turned away from the girl. "Oh, Y/N-"

"Oh my gosh, you are so gross." You couldn't help but feel your eyes water at the sight, a single tear rolling down your cheek. Your night was definitely ruined now. So much for a magical evening.

You turned away from the scene, ignoring Nick's pleas and you walked away through the crowds. You were so focused on trying not to cry more, you accidentally bumped into someone and they spilled their red wine all over your brand new dress.

You looked up to see Rose and she immediately apologizes but you were already in tears, you broke down. You started crying as she rubbed your shoulder comfortingly.

"I-I'm sorry, Y/N, I can buy you a new one!" Rose exclaimed happily but you shook your head.

Rafe was talking to Kelce when he had heard all the commotion happen - he saw Nick with that girl and then he saw you walking away; he quickly followed you.

He didn't know why he did it; it's not like he cared about you, he just wanted to make sure you were alright. Rafe followed you to where you and Rose were and immediately went by your side.

As he saw your puffy eyes and your dress all ruined, something clicked. He was suddenly angry; he'd heard how excited you were about Midsummers and look how it's turning out.

He heard someone walk up to you and he turned his head to see none other than Nick.

"Y/N, are you- are you okay?" He put his hand on your shoulder and you turned around to shake your head. You really didn't want to make a scene but Nick was the last person you wanted to see, so he was making it impossible for you to keep your cool.

"God, no! You just ruined my night."

He looked around at all the people staring and he took your hand but you ripped it out of his grasp. "Don't touch me, Nick."

Despite your efforts, he still decided to put his hand on your shoulder. Rafe had enough; he pushed him away from you and grabbed him by his collar.

"She said don't touch her, man." Rafe shouted at Nick. "So don't fuckin' touch her."

You couldn't take it anymore; there were too many people everyone and suddenly the music was too loud. You walked away from the scene and held in your cry. You couldn't even go home because stupid Nick had drove you here in his stupid Mercedes.

Rafe let go of Nick once he realized you had walked away. He tried to look for Sarah but she was no where to be found. "Where's Sarah when you fucking need her," he mumbled.

Rose was worried sick about you, wondering what had happened. "Rafe, go talk to her and I'll find Sarah, okay?"

He nodded and sighed. He was worried about you, too but he was going to admit that.

You heard footsteps behind you and you turned around expecting Sarah but you were slightly disappointed once you saw it was Rafe. He sat next to you silently as you sniffled.

He sighed and look over at you. "Nick's an asshole."

You nodded silently. Rafe looked over at you and the sight of you crying made him angrier. He hadn't even managed to make you cry in the 10 years he’d know you; he couldn't believe that Nick could've done so easily. He was slightly glad that he'd never made you cry before because the sight alone made him miserable.

"I'm sorry about... your dress. It was really pretty."

You looked over at Rafe, disbelief in your eyes. Did Rafe Cameron just call your dress... pretty?

He laughed at your expression, making you crack a small smile. His laugh always made you feel a little better, even if it was directed at you.

There was silence for a moment, just listening to the waves crashing and the music from inside the Club. Rafe turned to you, "I know we're not friends or anything... but uh, I'm here if you want to talk."

You smiled back at Rafe. It was unusual to see such a sweet Rafe but you've known him long enough to see it sometimes. He's not completely evil. And maybe you didn't completely hate him. You knew he doesn't like seeing you, Sarah or Wheezie cry. Even though he pretended to hate them, he really doesn't.

You turned away from Rafe, taking a deep inhale. "I don't want to bother you-"

"You're not." Rafe quickly refuted.

You suddenly felt a pidge of guilt as you looked over at Rafe; you possibly ruined his night as well. "Rafe, I'm sorry. You shouldn't feel responsible to calm me down."

Rafe sighed and rolled his eyes. "Stop apologizing, Y/N. You didn't do anything wrong. No one made me come and help you, okay? I did it out of my own free will."

You sighed. "Nick is an asshole."

"We've agreed on that."

"I just wish that I had a perfect night, I had such high expectations and they all just plummeted as the night went on. I know what you're going to say, I shouldn't have had my standards up so high. But I did. And here I am, my dress and makeup ruined and no date." You ranted as Rafe listened and nodded along.

"You don't need a date to be happy. Or a nice dress. Or makeup, I mean, you already look beautiful as is." Rafe said confidentally, making you turn your gaze back to Rafe. You smiled at his words.

"You mean it?"

"Yes, you do look beautiful." Rafe sighed; it was obvious though, everyone thought it. It was just pure fact.

You felt a heat come on to your face and you looked away, bashfully. Rafe Cameron was so confusing - how could one person make you feel so many things?

"I mean, don't get me wrong. You're still the most annoying person on this island, but beautiful nonetheless."

You grinned slightly as you rolled your eyes. That was the Rafe Cameron you knew. "Wow, so nice. Thanks."

You both let out a soft laugh before sitting in calm silence again. The summer breeze making you shiver as you looked at the beach in front of you. Rafe noticed this and without another word, took off his blazer and put it on top of you.

Before you could thank him, you heard a familar shout behind you.

"Y/N!" Sarah ran out to you and Rafe. She was breathless, taking a moment to catch her breathe before continuing. "Fuck Nick. My gosh, I've wanted to say that this whole week. He's so annoying. I'm glad you saw his true colors sooner rather than later, Y/N."

She took a seat between you and Rafe, seperating you. She saw that you were wearing his blazer and she smirked to herself.

"Wow." She said, simply. "Kie owes me 15$"

You and Rafe both looked each other then back at Sarah. "What?"

#rafe obx #rafe fanfiction #rafe smut #outerbanks rafe #rafe imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe angst #rafe x reader #rafe x y/n #rafe outer banks #rafe x you #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe fic #rafe fluff #rafe cameron x kook!reader #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x oc #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron x smut #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x female reader #obx2 #obx s3 #obx jj #obx fanfiction

[atopcat]

If you had the chance to change something about the dance of the dragons (TV show or book), what would it be? For example, how a character dies, which team a house is on,or an entire character personally. How would you change it to make the story better, in your opinion? 💙💚🖤♥️

House of the Dragon? EVERYTHING and I do mean everything!

Age appropriate actors, why are 20 somethings pretending to be women in the mid to late 30s one of whom is a grandmother?!

More body positivity, Viserys, Rhaenyra and Helaena are all canonically plus size. The excuse Sarah Hess used was disgusting and fatphobic.

Actual development of the characters, I sound like a broken record but omg this crapfest of a show has given me 0 reason to be invested in anyone.

The show should’ve been 13-15 episodes long instead of 10, everything felt so rushed because they were trying to cram as much in with little time.

Don’t make such drastic changes which completely ruin the characters goals and motivations.

Real female relationships. Rhaenyra was a girl’s girl surrounded by women: Laena Velaryon, Rhaenys Targaryen, the Strong sisters, Elinda Massey etc. Alicent was not her friend and she certainly wasn’t her only friend yet for all their airs of “feminist writing” the writers are just as allergic to female friendships as their GoT counterparts.

And most importantly:

FOLLOW THE DAMN BOOK! Condall and Hess have deluded themselves into thinking their fanfiction is better than George’s work and this underserved arrogance destroyed the show before it even began.

&

DON’T BE SO F*CKING RACIST! The treatment of House Velaryon is an actual joke, of Laena and her girls in particular. I talk about what they did to my dragon girls here (Baela and Rhaena rant), the Velaryons went from being the second most powerful family in Westeros to nothing more than props for white characters. It honestly feels like Ryan decided simply casting black actors is enough, fans shouldn’t be mad their personalities and storylines were ignored in favour of white characters.

With the books my feelings are a little more complicated.

how a character dies

Do I hate that certain characters die? Yes, but no one in the books died for the sake of dying if you catch my drift. They had to die when they did for the story to work. None of their deaths felt unnecessary, they all had an impact on the storyline, that’s what I love about George’s work if one person didn’t die then the events that happen completely change.

Aemma: there’s no civil war full stop.

Laena: Aemond claims Vhagar, loses an eye in the process and triggers the beginning of the inevitable civil war.

Laenor: it was at his funeral people finally called the Strong boys’ paternity out. He was Rhaenyra’s shield against the rumours, which is also why the whole fake death plot was dumb af.

Harwin: pretty much same as Laenor, if he doesn’t die then Rhaenyra has an easy solution to her bastard problem by marrying the man everyone’s accusing of being her sons’ real father. By killing him off she doesn’t have a quick fix, the ghost of Harwin Strong will haunt the Dance.

Lyonel: his death gives Larys control of Harrenhall and allows Otto to be Hand again.

Lucerys: he’s the trigger for the war, Rhaenyra stopped playing nice the minute she found out he died. We forget how evil kinslaying is in Westerosi culture, but she allowed it because she wanted revenge for her son.

Jacaerys: the Robb Stark to Nyra’s Stoneheart, his death triggered her paranoia and slow descent into madness. He was her stability, her rock, without him she already lost even when she finally sat on the Iron Throne.

The Strong boys in general had to die for the sake of everything that happens to House Targaryen post Dance. The only survivors have to be Aegon III and Viserys II. Aegon who was so traumatised he hated dragons and deliberately prevented them from being hatched. Viserys who continued the generational abuse, allowed his daughter to be maritally raped by his son, and usurped his niece’s throne using his own mother as justification for why women can’t rule.

George didn’t kill any of these characters for fun, they all served a purpose to the overall storyline and all their deaths mattered.

which team a house is on

Considering how much George loves his wolf pack it is a little cliche that House Stark is Team Black and House Lannister is Team Green lol, that being said it does make sense.

House Stark and the North in general are isolationists, very rarely do they involve themselves in Southern politics. Jace made a pact with Cregan, offering to make his son the next Prince Consort and gave House Manderly a marriage to Joffrey also. His alliance wasn’t that different to Aemond’s with House Baratheon, they’re not going to involve themselves unless there’s something in it for them.

It’s a nice twist to Robert’s Rebellion where House Stark is anti Targaryen and House Lannister stay loyal.

Jeyne Arryn saying “we women must band together” gives you the impression that they didn’t see Rhaenyra’s accession as a one off thing, they were expecting real change to happen in Westeros.

It also makes sense Team Green didn’t have as much support. House Hightower isn’t one of the great houses, Otto is a second son, Alicent isn’t a dragon rider, Criston is the son of a steward etc. Considering they started this war with the odds stacked against them hats off to them for managing to pull it off I say.

or an entire character personally

I don’t think I’d want to change character personalities, this godawful show tried doing that and look at the absolute mess they’ve made. George wrote well rounded characters, we know their individual motives and goals, he’s not the problem the show is.

That being said I do want more depth to them, especially Harwin because I really want to know what he was thinking when he decided to impregnate the Crown Princess THREE times. So fingers crossed George gets around to writing that Rhaewin novella I guess.

How would you change it to make the story better, in your opinion?

I’d put more focus on the maester conspiracy, Team Black vs. Team Green by itself is dull, reduced to nothing more than woman vs. patriarchy. Unlike Game of Thrones where you can argue in favour of over a dozen characters for the Iron Throne, the Dance is a lot more black and white which makes it more boring.

There’s no philosophical discussion, no critique, nothing to expand on etc. Focus on the maesters makes up for this, now we can have debate on whether or not they were justified in their battle against dragons.

Once the Targaryens lost them they became more dependent on other Houses, they were a stability but no longer a threat. I can see maesters argue about the dangers of Old Valyria, the desecration and blasphemy, the evils of incest and slavery as arguments to destroy the dragons. This is 100x more interesting than simply Blacks vs. Greens.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd critical #anti hotd #valyrianscrolls #asoiaf meta #hotd meta #grrm #team black #team Green #anonymous

[honeysmokedham]

TIMING: 5/13 3:13 am

PARTIES: Cass @magmahearts, Nora @honeysmokedham, Ren @ironheartedfae, Thea @notstinky, & Van @vanoincidence

LOCATION: a normal supermarket

SUMMARY: Cass and Nora want a late-night snack. Ren is following Cass, and Thea is dragged with Nora. Van just lost track of time in the bathroom. They're all surprised to find each other in a closed store.

CONTENT WARNINGS: Sibling Death TW (vaguely mentioned).

Cass was hungry. Like, starving. She’d run out of food in the cave a while ago, and while Jonas did still owe her a couple meals, she was trying to save those for special occasions. Plus, it was, like, late. Bakeries probably weren’t open this late, on account of humans closing everything up when it got dark. Which was stupid, by the way! Life didn’t stop when the moon came out! 

But… in this case, things being closed was kind of a good thing. If the supermarket was closed, no one could stop Cass from going inside and taking what she needed. The door was easy enough to get through — her lockpicking YouTube playlist hadn’t really helped her out much yet, but lava could melt a lock easily enough and that accomplished the same goal, didn’t it? So, here she was. In front of shelves and shelves of food, pushing along a buggy that she was definitely planning on leaving with because fuck the big chain supermarket and its big corporation money. She just had to decide which flavor of Pop Tart sounded most tempting. And also, if she had time for it, what a Pop Tart was. 

There was a sound to her left, too loud to fit into the otherwise silent supermarket. Cass tilted her head, looking towards it. “Hello? Is somebody there? Do you know what hot fudge tastes like?”

—

Fate was a concept that was often talked about in Fae circles. A driving force that controlled all things. It was supposed to be on their side as one of the fair folk. But Ren wasn’t a normal nymph. She despised the heathen ways of those who cast her aside, knowing full well her job was to bring them down. To find as many as she could and slay them. She just had to hope that their fate wasn’t as strong as her faith. A blessing was what she called it when the other nymph had crossed her path. She felt that strange swirling tug, and followed it until she found the girl it was coming from. Then she followed the girl for four days. 

Getting as much information as she could without ever being caught. She was strange. Most people in this town were. But this “Cass” might have been the most so. Each night was a toss up, between stealing things and going out with an odd colorful uniform on, taking down ‘criminals’ who were doing the same damn thing as her. Not to mention she had managed to get several “thank you’s” from the strangers she forced her will upon. Disgusting. These monsters truly would stoop so low as to pretend to help someone just to bind them into… menial… things… Admittedly Ren wasn’t too sure what exactly the oread had done to the people. She had to keep distance between them. Her skills as hiding in all forms was the only good thing being an entomid had ever done for her, but it took a lot of energy to do so. 

Energy she just didn’t have after a few days of not really eating. 

Which was why the store was so interesting. Normally Ren wouldn’t have followed her in. She would have taken note of the burned lock, of the timing of when the other nymph went in and out, and left well enough alone. But her own stomach was growling. And maybe stealing wasn’t such a sin when you took it from one who had already stolen… right? The nymph found a perch atop one of the aisles and watched from the safety of her natural camouflage. For a second, she thought she’d been made, that she was going to either have to do this right now, or abandon the chase for a few days to lose the heat. But no– No, there was someone else in here too. 

—

“Don’t panic.” Nora parked Thea next to the back entrance of the Supermarket. “I do this all the time.” Nora rummaged in her pockets. Some uneaten ham, a snake, a couple of crushed drawings she’d been meaning to throw away. She handed each item to Thea as she kept searching in her jacket. Finally, she stumbled across the shining items. Her lock picks. Nora felt bad about all the clothes that Thea had lost in the attack. To make it up to her, she was going to help her get free food. The door opened with a click. Nora took back all her items, shoving them back into her pocket. “Come on.” Nora pushed in through the back room. Rows upon rows of storage were back here. That wasn’t where they needed to be. Nora led them through the heavy double doors that separated them in the back room to the store front. “What do you like to eat?” Nora was instantly making a Beeline towards the deli. A scent in the air caused her to pause. Nora lifted her nose, taking two sniffs of the air. “Do you smell that?” Nora turned to Thea. In a louder voice she called out, “Hey, is anyone there?” 

—

Being told not to panic was a one way ticket to panicking. That was Anxiety 101. “I thought when you said we’d do something fun you meant, like, bowling,” Thea whined. For a moment, she was holding a snake—why did Nora have a snake in her pocket—and then she wasn’t holding a snake anymore. “I think you should throw that ham out,” Thea said as she walked in after Nora. “How long has that been in your pockets? That doesn’t seem sa—“ As Nora went on, Thea paused to sniff the air. Mostly, she still got the lingering aroma of Nora’s ham mixed with all the other ham. “I don’t know about smells but I think a ghost is asking us about hot fudge.” Thea was sure she’d heard that right. “Hello? Ghost? Hot fudge is just chocolate! But it’s gooey!” Thea stepped forward, moving ahead of Nora as they navigated. She cupped her hands around her mouth. “But like, it tastes kinda different from chocolate? It’s hard to describe! But–“ Fate spared the empty grocery store from Thea’s rambled explanation as her body crashed into another when she turned the corner of an aisle. Thea fell back, flat on her butt as she stared up at the ‘ghost’. 

—

Van hadn’t meant to lose track of time. She’d gotten a notification on her phone– a timed event from one of her mobile games, and poof, time was a concept no longer followed. The fight music that blared through her head phones covered all traces of closing discussions among the employees, and because it was still bright in the restroom, she was none the wiser. Van finally managed to beat the final mini boss, and as she leaned against the wall just next to the paper towel dispenser, she realized that maybe now was the time to leave before the employees thought she was doing something nefarious, or thought she had really bad IBS. She resumed the music she’d been playing prior, and grabbed her bag off of the hook hanging near the door with the few groceries she’d purchased before pulling it open. The entire store was dark, save for the few lights that were on in random patterns across the ceiling. “What the…” Van checked the time on her phone and cursed under her breath. She’d spent an hour past closing in the bathroom. How the hell had she managed that? She rushed towards the exit, but stopped just short of the door. A group of girls, all of which seemingly surprised at one another’s existence, blocked her way to the exit. “Who?!” Van hadn’t realized she was yelling, her music loud in her ears, and she quickly shoved her headset down so that it was hanging around her neck. “Do you guys work here? Sorry, I didn’t mean to–” But none of them were wearing the ugly t-shirts that employees wore. “Um..” She looked between them, eyebrows pulling together. 

—

"Cass?" Nora popped out from behind Thea, staring at the girl on fire, in the flesh, holding a box of poptarts.

It’d be impossible not to recognize her, even after five years. Her name escaped Van until it popped into her head as soon as she spoke “…Nora?” 

“Chocolate can be gooey? Why would you —” Cass was cut off as someone ran into her, the sound of her name causing her brow to furrow. “Nora?”

Someone else said her name, Nora turned around coming face to face with someone she hadn’t seen for five years. “Van?”

“Thea!” Thea smiled, then instantly frowned. “Oh, sorry, I thought we were just saying names.” She paused. “Wait, did you say Cass?”

Still looking at Van, a little dazed and confused, Nora pointed at Thea. “That’s Thea.”

“Thea?” Cass repeated, turning to the girl with Nora. “Fanfic Thea? Hi, Thea!”

“Hi, Cass,” Thea waved from her spot on the ground. “Cass is the best fanfic author ever,” she explained to the others. “Hi, Van. Your name is a type of car.” 

“Fanfic?” Van stared at Thea, then at Cass, “you both write fanf---“ Her gaze shifted back to Thea. “It’s short for Vanessa.” 

—

Ren’s head whipped around, barely fast enough to keep up. From one extra voice to a whole chorus, what were they multiplying? This was very quickly becoming too much, and the nymph was about to hightail it up into the rafters of the building until a familiar voice cut through the rest. “No…ra?” Whispered. Barely audible. But enough to derail Ren’s whole plan. Quietly, she peered over the edge of the aisle, watching with bright wide eyes as the others talked. Apparently they all knew each other too. Well that just made things even more complicated. Ugh. 

—

Never in Nora’s twenty years of existence had she been in a supposedly closed store filled with people from her past. It had been one year since her last contact with Cass, and five since she’d met Van. Two strangers, both she’d met in New York, just happened to be here at the same time? Nora started to look around for cameras. Instead she spotted another familiar insectoid face poking out between a flamingo lawn decoration and a fake beach chair. That was hard to forget. “Ren?” Nora blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. “What’s everyone shopping for?” She finally asked, at a complete loss for what else to say. She would have asked what they were all doing there, but to be honest, she just assumed they were all five finger shopping.

—

Thea stood up, brushing herself off. It seemed like everyone knew each other, at least a little, and mostly tethered by Nora’s captivating personality and enigmatic life. Thea felt proud her stinky buddy was so popular and then, a little jealous. She had exactly one friend and it was Nora. Maybe Cass but the horror of her fanfiction had been haunting Thea’s thoughts--she classified everything as either a ‘green’ or ‘blue’ apron activity. Breaking into a store was definitely ‘blue apron’ of them. “Okay, so there’s Van--short for Vanessa and not like the car.” She pointed at Van. “There’s Cass.” She pointed at Cass. “Me, Thea.” She pointed at herself. “Nora.” She pointed at Nora. “And….Ren?” Thea’s finger jutted out into the darkness. All she saw were chairs, gnomes and flamingos. Maybe Nora was acquainted with one of the gnomes? Probably the one that looked like it was peeing. “I just want to say that I disapprove of stealing,” she said, turning back to the others. “But, um, if you were going to steal…Poptarts are a good choice. Van, what were you stealing in the bathroom? Soap? That’s not very efficient thievery; you could just get a whole bottle from the aisles.” 

—

A flood of emotions rushed over Cass as Nora’s presence registered. She’d never run into someone who’d left her after the fact, never come face to face with one of the many people who’d realized she wasn’t worth keeping around. Usually, when people left, they made it a point to stay gone. A strange sense of fear washed over her, because there were other people here, too. People like Thea, who seemed cool, and this ‘Van’ person whose name was a car that was short for Vanessa. What if Nora told them what a problem Cass was? She’d lose her shot at making friends before she got it at all. A familiar feeling stirred in her stomach then, the flutter like butterflies that meant another fae was nearby. But… she didn’t think it was Van or Thea, and she knew it wasn’t Nora. So… “Who’s Ren?” She didn’t see anyone in the darkness, and she had very good night vision, but she could feel them there all the same. Looking back to the others, she blinked. “I can’t buy them,” she pointed out. “The store is closed. I have to steal them. There’s no one at the register.” She looked back at the shelf, surveying the Pop Tarts. “How do you pop them?” Then, to Van, “The soap is a few aisles over. I can show you, if you need some. They have one that smells like lavender.” 

—

Van felt severely out of place. They all knew each other, and the only person she knew was Nora. Though, the word knew held way too much weight for a run in that entailed a spilled frappe and an instagram handle. She anxiously flattened the strap of her bag down on her shoulder and tugged the sack closer to her stomach. “I’m not— I wasn’t buy— stealing soap.” Did she need soap? She didn’t think so. Besides, it was too late for that. The store was closed. That didn’t seem to matter to the rest of them. “I was playing a game. Didn’t realize the store closed.” Van was thoroughly flustered now. Why was this happening? At the mention of somebody named Ren, Van followed Thea’s gaze towards the gnomes, then it snapped back to Cass as she spoke. “You could have come when it wasn’t closed…?” There wasn’t much use in arguing her point and she knew that. Really, Van held no moral high ground. She didn’t care if people stole or not, but it was weird that multiple people who hadn’t planned to run into each other, had done just that, and by stealing no less. When Cass mentioned the soap, Van let out a groan. “I don’t need— Ugh.” 

—

Amongst the soaps, a scene worthy of a soap opera was beginning to unfold. Not only had Ren been spied, she’d been named. In front of the fae. Dammit all to hell. Rough fingers dragged themselves down Ren’s face as a sigh slipped through her lips. Was it better to hide? Or use this as some sort of… in? If Nora knew the oread, perhaps she could… vouch for Ren. And Cass could lead her to others. Maybe it was a good thing. Maybe this could work. The entomid stood and began to make her way around. Trying to pay attention to the conversations going on an aisle over. Even unintentionally, the bug was pretty stealthy. Made her way next to Nora seemingly without alerting any of the others. 

This close to another fae though… it was starting to mess with Ren. A fluttered mess of emotions welling up inside her chest. If she didn’t stay focused, her mind drifted back to a few weeks ago. To the man whose life slid away beneath Ren’s knives. To the way he looked at her with utter betrayal. The nymph shook her head. Threw the thoughts away and turned to the gaggle of girls. “You should not be stealing, dangerous.” 

— 

Nora was greeted with the smell of sulfur and loneliness mixed in with just a touch of smoke. Guilt washed over her. That was Cass's fear scent. Nora averted her eyes to the ground. If Cass was in town they were going to have to talk. Nora's tongue played with her lip ring, rolling it around. Cass knew her identity. What if it wasn't safe? What if it was time to g-. Nora knocked herself out of those thoughts, bringing herself back into the conversation of Van's soap failures. "You've got pockets, Van. Just fill them with soap." Nora was surprised Thea wasn't on it already. Thea probably used more soap than everyone in this town combined. Nora swallowed, looking back at Cass, trying to catch her eye. "Pop Tarts are good, Cass." She said. She tried to add a smile to her words. It came out as the micro smile, the only expression her face ever seemed to manage. "You pop them in a microwave." How did you get your words about poptarts to ask the question 'Are you going to turn me in?' 

Nora had been ready to explain who Ren was. She really was. Except Ren was coming forward, proclaiming their activity to be dangerous. "No its not." Nora basically scoffed. Nora looked between these people she knew. Van. Cass. Thea. Then she pointed a finger at the humanoid insect. "That's Ren," Nora explained. "Ren, check it, there are art supplies on aisle 12. You could draw a rainbow." 

— 

Thea didn’t know what was going on, but she rarely did so her confusion didn’t bother her. Except that her body reacted the way it often did in strange situations; her heart thumped wildly and her hands grew clammier as the seconds ticked by. “You could have just gone to a store that’s open, Cass,” she said. She tried to sound scolding but her anxiety won out and so she mostly sounded meek. She perked up. “I have money though! I think if we just leave it here, it’ll be like we didn’t steal at all!” Thea pulled out a crumbled green bill from her pocket. She couldn’t tell how much it was; American money was terrible. It was all the same color and she could never tell it apart. As Ren approached, Thea spun quickly. The positive: she could now see that her bill was a twenty. The negative: her sudden turn had made her rip it in two. “Um,” she stuttered, “I-I think it’s still valid. We, um… We can still go ‘shopping’! Just, uh, don’t take anything more than twenty dollars.” She wiped her sweaty hands against her jeans. “It’s nice to meet all of you.” Thea smiled. “Oh! Actually, I also need more soap…” She looked over to Van. “Um, so maybe we can go that way? Or are we watching Ren draw a rainbow? I’m not sure how theft works, honestly. This is my first time.” 

—

Nora was talking to her, was calling her by name in a way that was confusing. She’d left. Why was she using soft tones now? Why was she doing her version of a smile? She’d already decided Cass wasn’t worth it. Maybe it was pity; some attempt to pretend that Cass was less… her than she was, to give her a chance to befriend the other girls. A kind gesture, like one you might make for a particularly pathetic stray. Did it make it more pathetic that Cass wouldn’t argue? That she was so lonely she’d take friendship built on pity rather than no friendship at all? “I don’t have a microwave,” she mumbled, glancing up as another figure joined the party. That feeling in her stomach got stronger, and while the nymphs back home had always referred to it as a lovely, beautiful thing, it felt more like nausea to Cass these days. Nora knew she was bad to be around, and fae were always the first to figure it out. There was no way Van or Thea would want to be her friend with two people around to tell them not to. “I don’t think any stores are open this late,” she told Thea. “I think they’re all closed. I checked a different one.” Only to see how good the locks were, but the lack of discomfort meant that the statement still wasn’t technically a lie. Looking to the ripped bill in Thea’s hand, she shook her head. “We can’t get anything for twenty dollars. Van needs soap. Soap is expensive if it smells good, and I don’t want Van to smell bad.” She looked to Van with a reassuring smile. “You don’t smell bad right now.” Then, back to Thea. “We’re only stealing from rich guys. They make, like, Tony Stark money. We’re stealing from Tony Stark.”

—

There was a verbal volleyball match happening all around Ren, and there was no way she was going to keep up. She didn’t know what popped tarts were, nor microwaves or Tony Stark. Hell, Ren didn’t even know what volleyball was to know what a volleyball match might be. It was all  nonsense. The kind of things people got to talk about. But that wasn’t her. She wasn’t a person, she was a monster and a hunter. The wide unnerving stare lingered on each of the girls, but longest on Cass. Who she was supposed to be making a… good impression on now. Her eyes darted around, looking at the expressions that ranged from positively bubbly with that Theeah, Vanne looked maybe confused or uncomfortable? Nora was the same impassive mask she’d worn back when she’d intruded on Ren’s… area… And Cass. Without a lot of examples to go off of, the nymph picked the girl with the strangely colored hair. Light and dark at the same time. Like Darya’s graying hair, but more… controlled. Intentional. And evenly distributed. The mirror was not perfect. It was never going to be, but Ren tried to smile. Hoping that was the appropriate response to whatever was actually being said to her. 

—  

Ren’s sudden appearance put Van even further on edge. How the hell had she hidden so well? This was too much. She had to work the next day. Maybe not until the afternoon, but still. She had chores. The house wouldn’t clean itself. She tried to speak, but the words didn’t come out. They died in her throat as the others began to ping pong their own comments at one another.. Van watched as Thea’s twenty dollar bill ripped in half. At her comment, Van rolled her eyes.  “I don’t need soap. I have tons of soap at home.” She did, didn’t she? Probably. Her grandma was a couponer, which meant there were things in bulk, and it had only been a year or so after she left, which meant Van hadn’t managed to go through everything that she had purchased. Which probably meant there was soap at home. As Cass explained that she had checked a different store, she bit her tongue. There was a 24/7 gas station that she could have gone to to get poptarts, but she had a point. Stealing from a grocery store chain didn’t really harm anyone, not when the corporation already made so much money. She remembered the original store that had stood in this same place. They had free cookies on Wednesdays. The chain didn’t offer such a thing. Instead, they charged way too much for just about everything. 

The silence that came from the newcomer made Van shift her weight from one foot to the other as a means to further distance herself. Why was she just staring? Why did it look like she had ripped one and was waiting for it to hit the rest of them? “This is all very cool– the breaking in, the poptarts, whatever the hell you’re doing–” Van motioned towards Ren, “but I need to go now.” She knew that the store had no real security system. It was constantly broken and the employees often were very cavalier about it. Just before she’d gone to the bathroom, she heard somebody talking about how they stole several loaves of bread. But still, being who she was, Van didn’t feel like getting caught at the scene of the crime. “So I’m going to go.” She wasted no time in moving around them towards the door, but let out a shriek as another individual appeared. This one, however, brandished a knife. What kind, Van had no fucking clue. Just next to the door were pallets of soda, all of which exploded, spraying not only Van, but the newcomer too.

—

There was something incredibly exciting about your first solo hunt. For years now, Debbie had heard her mother talk about it, had pestered stories out of her father and her aunt about what their first solo hunts had been like. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy hunting with her parents — it was fine. But it felt like a safety net she’d outgrown, like something she shouldn’t need anymore. She was a warden, and she was built for this. She was built to rid the world of monsters, to make her parents proud. It was the only thing she’d ever really wanted.

So, when her mother put an iron knife in her hand and told her tonight was the night, the excitement was unparalleled. She wasn’t given much guidance; she didn’t need it. Wicked’s Rest was full of sneaky fae, and Debbie wanted to take out a big one. Not a silly pixie or an unimportant gnome, but something real. Something that would make her father’s eyes sparkle and her mother’s smile genuine, something she could tell her little brother about with pride, something that would make her first solo hunt a good story to tell.

The nymph she spotted breaking into a grocery store seemed like a pretty good bet.

It wasn’t even subtle about its intentions. It burned the lock away with something that looked like magma. Oread, her mind supplied. She’d have to watch out for that. As she snuck behind the stupid nymph, she noticed something… weird. There were more people here. All girls, all about her age. Another nymph, though Debbie couldn’t tell what kind. Three more who weren’t fae, but were awfully cavalier about the whole ‘breaking and entering’ thing. Debbie moved in quietly, but she wasn’t expecting the girl who’d come out of the bathroom to try to leave. She wasn’t expecting her to see her.

She wasn’t expecting the soda to explode, either.

If three of the five girls were supernatural, it probably stood to reason that the other two were, too. They were all monsters. Which meant Debbie’s first solo hunt had just gotten a lot more exciting. How proud would her mother be when she heard that Debbie had killed five monsters in one night? Two terrible nymphs, whatever the soda exploder was, and whatever kind of monsters the two who had entered together might be. Finally, after nineteen years of being ‘not ready’ and second best, she’d prove her worth. Finally. 

She didn’t offer them a word — why would she? You didn’t talk to a wasp’s nest before spraying it down with insect killer, didn’t strike up a conversation with the trash before you placed it in the dumpster. These weren’t people. They were monsters. And Debbie was a monster hunter. She was going to be a very good one.

She launched herself forward, going for the closest girl with the knife out. Iron did well against fae, but a sharp knife could help you out against just about anything. Debbie knew that.

—

Van didn’t have time to process the way that the cans of soda exploded. She didn’t have time to process the gleam in the girl’s eyes, or the way she held her knife at the ready. Van hadn’t ever seen anybody hold a knife except for in cooking shows, but this looked different. It didn’t seem like she was getting ready to chop garlic. Instead, it looked like something out of a Scream movie. 

The girl lunged and Van let out another scream. She felt the cold point of the knife against her side and then a burning sensation as it sliced across towards her navel. Van stumbled backwards, her feet finding every possible obstacle. She went crashing down onto her elbows– there was no saving herself from the spill, but she had inadvertently missed the swing of the girl’s knife as it struck out once more. Too panicked to process the situation, whatever happenings typically followed Van around went entirely stagnant. 

—

Thea scrambled after the noise, dropping her bottles of soap and detergent. “Van?” she called out. “Van? Van, are ok–“ Thea rounded the aisles coming to a stop at the front of the store. “Debbie?” Thea stared at the girl; it was the same brown hair and brown eyes that she remembered. Her lips pulled up into a bright smile. She wouldn’t call herself friends with Debbie, that’d be too presumptuous. But in her back pocket, inside of her phone, was a mostly emoji based text chain and the message to go out for dinner at Denny’s that Thea didn’t have the courage to press send on yet. They’d met the way most people do: just out somewhere when it was a little too late for either of them but they were too old now to admit they missed having curfews. At least, it’d felt that way for Thea, who liked Debbie because she wasn’t afraid to try things and to admit when something made her excited. Debbie was honest and Thea was… smelling metal. Her eyes darted to Van on the floor then to the knife Debbie held, dripping blood on to the ground. What did it say about her that her first instinct was to go grab a mop to clean it up? “Debbie?” 

Whatever friendship Thea felt, she didn’t think Debbie shared it. She thought she felt a little hesitation in her as she lunged into the space that separated them; her hand was out and her fingers tightly clasped around her knife’s handle but she’d only slashed Thea’s side open instead of stabbing her. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but Thea thought that felt like something. She dove down to the ground, sliding across the floor and tearing up her knees and elbows as she went—her days playing volleyball finally proved useful for something. “Help!” She called out to her new allies. “Person with knife!” Debbie didn’t deserve a name right now. 

— 

Nora had wandered off, still in a daze over the odd occurrence of finding people she’d known throughout her life here. In White Crest. In a supermarket she was breaking into. Nora never made it to the deli, a commission was happening. Nora heard it, then the scent of fresh blood, just heavy enough for her to smell it. Nora paused, her heart starting to pound. Blood splattering her. It was warm. The head rolling. Thea was shouting for help. Nora pulled herself out of the memory and ran towards her screaming friend. She would not stand there this time. She was the big bad of the story. No one she liked would get hurt. 

The hunter held a knife, but Nora had one too. Nora started moving her hands around her pockets. Snake. Wallet. Sketchbook. Munch. Another Snake. A bat? What the fuck had a ba- Oh fuck it. Nora was wasting time. Why did she keep so much junk in her pockets? Nora summoned an illusion, a lion leaping at the hunter, growing and coming to a stop in front of Thea as she shucked off her jacket. Too many little buddies were in the pockets to risk bringing them into this scuffle. “Don’t touch them!” Nora shouted, her feet took off under her. She was running in. She wished she had the knife… Oh that’s right, she’d put it in the front pocket of her overalls. Nora pulled it out as she ran near. 

— 

The sound of her own name startled Debbie, just a little. So did the realization that she knew one of the monsters. Was that Thea? The same Thea who sent her emojis in their text chain, the one who was an acquaintance but not yet a friend? For a moment, Debbie faltered. But only for a moment. She couldn’t let herself be distracted by the fact that monsters sometimes tried to trick you by wearing friendly faces. A real warden wouldn’t care about that. And as of tonight, Debbie was a real warden.

So she came in with the knife, slashing at Thea just to get her out of the way. If she injured each of the girls at least a little bit, it would even the playing field. They outnumbered her, so she had to outclass them. It was the only way she could make this hunt a successful one, the only way to ensure she’d go home with five kills under her belt instead of just the one she’d come here for. 

(It never crossed Debbie’s mind, of course, that she might not go home at all. She was the good guy. The good guys always won.)

Before she could move in on Thea again, footsteps were approaching. Debbie turned just in time to see a lion — a fucking lion! — leaping towards her. Yelling, she scrambled back. Another girl was yelling at her not to touch the others, and the lion was standing over Thea. There was a tug in her gut, a familiar feeling; one of the nymphs was coming towards her.

—

Cass didn’t have much time to think, but she never really did. Everything was happening so quickly now. Van was on the floor and bleeding, and Thea had a slash in her side, and apparently Nora had snuck a lion in without her realizing it which was, frankly, super impressive. But the girl with the knife (why was there a girl with a knife?) wasn’t backing up or running away, which meant the best thing to do was to get the knife away from her. Cass thought she might be able to use the commotion to sneak up behind the girl, but somehow, Debbie saw her coming. She turned with a snarl, and the look in her eyes was enough to make Cass falter. Fear, sure, but that was probably from the lion. More than that, though… There was disgust. Like she was looking at something awful, something terrible. Cass took a step back.

Her hesitation, however brief, was immediately used against her. Debbie, who had come here with every intention of killing Cass from the beginning, leaped at the nymph with an angry cry. It must have been her fault. Some fae trickery. Cass let out a startled grunt, scrambling backwards a bit more, but she was a little too slow for someone who’d had decades of training. Fast enough to avoid a fatal wound, maybe, but not fast enough to keep that knife from burying itself into her side. And the knife hurt. It burned in a way nothing ever had before, like her insides were on fire. She’d never been stabbed with iron before, nor did she know that that was what was happening now; all she knew was the blinding, dizzying pain of it. 

Without thinking, Cass shoved Debbie off of her, hands heating up with magma unintentionally. It burned a twin holes in Debbie’s shirt at her shoulders, burned the skin underneath. Debbie let out a sharp scream, stumbling back. 

The nymph was injured now, at least; maybe she would just make quick work of the rest of them before going back to deal with it. The second nymph was nearby, and she whirled towards it, knife out. If nothing else, she’d kill those two. That was her job.

—

The second nymph watched as the commotion stirred up. Things quickly spiraled out of control, and most of the other girls were hurt or bleeding. Something clicked in Ren’s head the moment she saw the girl with the knife. This ‘Debbie’ was a hunter. She had to be. And by the way she was looking at Cass and Ren with a hungry glare, she was most likely a warden. Bile boiled in the entomid’s stomach, a sickening wave of nausea shook her to the core. This was her hunt. Her wayinto the greater fae community. If she could just tell Debbie that then maybe the hunter would understand. Maybe she’d back off and not hurt the others. 

But Ren knew better. Hunters didn’t wait and talk things out. Even though this “Debbie” couldn’t have been much older than herself, the nymph knew exactly what would happen. If Debbie was a warden, she would know Ren for what she was. For what, apparently, everyone in this little circle was. A monster. The young hunter would dispose of the entomid for having the gaul to try and deceive her with trickery. 

It’s what Ren would have done in her shoes. 

For far too long Ren was stock still. Just watching everything unfold in that horrible slow motion way things tended to pan out when you were in shock. Cass shoved the warden, who then whirled around to brandish the knife at whoever was closest. At Nora. Debbie lunged and slashed and the shirt Nora had on was no real competition to a blade like that. It wasn’t just the blood that made Ren see red. 

Nora was perhaps the first person Ren’s age that she’d ever had a pleasant conversation with. Even if it did start because the girl had trespassed into the nymph’s little outside oasis. A spark of indignation flared up and she sprang at the warden. Butterfly knives swirled around her gloved hands until they found their home, hilt held, blade dug deep. Stabbing first, thinking second. 

—

Debbie hadn’t expected the second nymph to jump into action. The knife was a blur as it came for her side. It dug itself deep and Debbie let out a vicious scream before grabbing the nymph’s wrist, realigning her feet so that she could use the momentum to throw the monster onto her back. The knife released at the movement and Debbie grunted, vision red. This creature– this monster, they would pay. With the plan to use the monster’s own knife against her, Debbie quickly knocked it out of the nymph’s hand, clumsily twisting it around so that she could drive it into her stomach. “Enjoy the iron.” Debbie seethed, planning to pull and drive the knife again, but something shattered against her back, causing her to falter. She whipped her head around, releasing the knife to see the first one she’d come across standing a few feet away. 

– 

It took Van a moment to finally get to her feet. The cut at her side hurt. She’d never been sliced and diced before. Well, the diced part never happened. Thankfully. So much had happened in the time that the girl– Debbie, with the knife attacked her. Thea had been next, and she was currently to the side bleeding. Cass was hurt, too, and there was the smell of burning flesh. Where the hell had that come from? The illusion of whatever Nora had created went missed by Van entirely, because her gaze landed on Ren who was on her back. Debbie was standing over her. Debbie was standing over her. With a knife. Ren was going to die. It would be her fault. She had to do something. She had to do something. Van watched as Debbie stabbed Ren and Van struggled to scream, horrified by what she was witnessing. Without much thinking, Van grabbed the closest object to her. It was a ceramic garden gnome. It would have to do. She didn’t have much else to use– and launched it forward, watching as it shattered across Debbie’s back. The warden turned around, a vicious expression peeling across her features. Shit.  

–

“Hey!” Thea wobbled up to her feet, swaying from one side to the other. Her stomach felt like she’d laid down on a sticky grill; blood spilled easily between her fingers as she tried to hold her skin together. Thea wasn’t a fighter, she could hardly argue with people when they were wrong. She watched Cass jump in like a hero and Ren protecting Nora and Van throwing a gnome; she couldn’t be so bold. Thea didn’t know how to fight, Thea didn’t even want to fight. Mostly when she looked at Debbie she still saw the last string of emojis they sent each other. Which, ironically, did include a knife. Maybe Debbie had been trying to say something and Thea was too stupid to decipher it. In the end, it didn’t matter. Debbie was here and the rest of them were bleeding. “This isn’t nice, Debbie!” Thea ran out in front of Van, who recently earned Debbie’s ire, and spread her arms out like she was trying to block a wave; as wide as they went and an impossible task anyway. Thankfully, Debbie wasn’t the ocean. Debbie was just a girl. As she neared, rushing toward them with reckless abandon, Thea whipped her hand across the air. The sting of palm against cheek rang out in the store, cutting across the din of aching bodies and squeaking shoes. You couldn’t slap a body of water but you could slap Debbie, who really hadn’t been expecting it. Neither had Thea, for that matter, she’d never slapped anything before. Debbie stumbled back. 

—

Pain seared up Nora’s arm. As the knife slashed open a cut through Nora’s shirt she stopped moving, staring down at her own warm blood now coating her. It was weird. Someone hurt her? She’d been warned it was going to happen one day. The shock and pain caused the lion illusion to dissipate from its place in front of Thea. Nora only vaguely registered the commotion still happening around her. Ren stepping in to divert the attention off of Nora only to get rewarded with a stab from Debbie. Her brain was still stalling as the gears worked over time to try and parse it all. Nora was coming to understand that she needed to learn how to react. A garden gnome sailing through the sky did something to Nora. She needed to act. Nora watched it crash into Debbie, throwing the hunter off balance. Nora watched Debbie charge towards Van, only for Thea, scared crying Thea, to stand up for Van and… and slap Debbie? If Thea could be daring, so could Nora. 

Nora was on her feet again, blood dripping down her arm splattering against the tile as she dove at Debbie. They landed in a sprawl together, Nora on top of the hunter. “Never touch my friends again.” The words snarled out of Nora, no regard for what they meant. Could she call everyone here a friend? An instagram friend, a friend she’d ran away from, and then two she’d met recently. But there she was, clutching the knife Metzli had given her ready to defend them with her life. Debbie opened her mouth about to say something, Nora didn’t give her the chance. Without thinking, without letting those gears turn in her little mind Nora rammed the knife through Debbie’s mouth and into her skull. 

This was a front seat show to something new for Nora. Fear radiated from Debbie as she struggled to say final words. They were distorted, Nora starred in fascination as her mouth worked to talk with a knife in it. “I just wanted them… to be proud…” Nora opened her mouth to say something. Something witty that would make everyone like her and let them laugh about this moment later. She never got the chance. Pain became the only thought in her head as Debbie used her last throes of life to stab a blade she’d pulled from god’s knew where into Nora’s side. Nora grunted, thrusting her own farther up in response, anything to get the pain to stop. It was a front row seat to Debbie’s death. 

The death of a girl their age who looked like she could have been one of them, a misfit stealing some food. In another world, Nora could imagine Debbie was one of them. In another world, Nora could imagine her breaking into the grocery store as just another hungry kid. There would have been no fighting. They would have talked about pop-tarts and Van’s soap-stealing problem. In that other world, she would have probably laughed and smiled. That’s what girls their age did, right? Nora didn’t know because they weren’t from that world. They were from this one. The one where Debbie was dying in front of her. Her fear dissipated along with the life in her eyes. Debbie was no more, just an empty husk against Nora’s knife. But for Nora? There was no more idling. No more remembering the blood covering her. Now there was only knowledge that she could protect the people in her life. Nora fell to the ground next to Debbie's now corpse, ripping Debbie’s knife out and tossing it away from them. “I don’t think we should do this again.”

–

There were too many of them. Debbie had been so sure that she had this, so sure that she was good enough to take on the whole lot of them. It was what she’d been training for all her life, what she was supposed to do. Her bedtime stories had always been those of terrible monsters and the brave hunters who fought them, prevailing against impossible odds time and time again. And that was supposed to be her. That was supposed to be how the story went. The good guys won, the monsters died, the world was safer for it.

But that wasn’t how things were going now. That wasn’t the direction this story was headed.

Something shattered against her back and, when she turned towards the monster that had thrown it, Thea stepped in to assist it. Didn’t Thea understand? Didn’t she see what was happening here? Maybe it wasn’t her fault that she was a monster, but she should at least know enough to know that Debbie was doing what was right by stopping her and the others. The only way a monster could redeem itself was to die. Didn’t Thea want that redemption? Didn’t all of them? 

Evidently not. Thea hit her with a slap that was more shocking than it was painful, sending Debbie stumbling backwards and into the other girl, the one with the lion. The lion was gone now, but the girl remained. The girl’s rage remained. She dove forward, knocking a disoriented Debbie to the floor. Debbie managed a desperate stab in the girl’s direction before they hit the ground together, but not much more.

Her knife slid out of her reach, and the angry girl with her sharp knife was on her, and all Debbie could think about were the stupid eggs. The way her mother had stopped her just before she’d left the house for the night, had cupped her face with her hand as she slid an extra iron blade into her pocket and reminded her that she needed her to pick up a carton of eggs on the way home for breakfast in the morning.

Who was going to bring the eggs now? Who was going to help her brother with his homework, or walk the dog at lunchtime? Who would slay the monsters, keep the world safe, make it better? 

It wouldn’t be Debbie. She realized it just a moment before the angry girl’s sharp knife carved her world into one of white hot pain and nothing else. There was a faint sense of confusion in her eyes as she looked up at her murderers, of disbelief. She was the good guy. She was supposed to be the good guy. What kind of story ended with the monsters killing the hero? What kind of…

She managed to gurgle out a final sentence, one of quiet confession and loud fear. She didn’t want to die. She wanted to go home, wanted to remember the eggs, wanted to have Denny’s for lunch tomorrow. She wanted so many stupid things, and this was what she got. 

Hadn’t she deserved a better story?

#chatzy #chatzy: van #chatzy: thea #chatzy: cass #chatzy: ren #its all good

[vote-gaara]

Not Gaara related but I remember you making a Sakura anti-hate post on your old blog and I was all for it

Honestly Anon, I am pretty impartial to all the main characters in Naruto, leaning more towards feeling favourable toward them (except for Sasuke who has earned my contempt again and again), but I will be damned if I won't bust into the Sakura fandom, guns-a-blazin', and go to war to defend their favourite character.

Really, I just have no time to post character hate of any kind, as I'm much more inclined to talk about the characters I do like (thus my various blogs dedicated to Gaara) because it just feels better to me as a fan??? Plus it's much more fun to conjure up some silly speculation about your faves.

For example, did you know Gaara's favourite food is actually a pun in Japanese? What is the likelihood that Gaara tried to make a joke when asked what his favourite food was, but because he's so deadpan, the other person just didn't realize?

Makes you wonder right?

I joke, but it is much more fun to talk about stuff like that than to constantly beat down an unliked character.

Plus I just believe that if I were to criticize a character, it would be none other than Gaara himself, as at least it would be a fair analysis. And believe me, anon, I would absolutely dunk on Gaara so mercilessly and so thoroughly that it would be akin to Yashamaru's betrayal. Like I am all for reppin' Gaara till the day I die, but I'm here to love him for BOTH his flaws and his virtues.

Now specifically with the Sakura hate...I think what disgusts me the absolute most about it is that I feel it's so firmly rooted in misogany.

I think this way because people do not extend the same courtesy to her as they do with literally every single other character. They complain that all she does is pine after Sasuke...but Obito literally started a war over a girl who wasn't his girlfriend and didn't want to be. Also Naruto spent the entire series chasing Sasuke, and we can't forget about Gaara dedication for Naruto! Or even Hinata for Naruto, or Ino and Sasuke/Sai.

I just never understood why people took Sakura's love for Sasuke as this horrendous thing, as if acting on the behalf of your love for someone is not a noble goal, but something that should be admonished.

Hinata, you could argue, is the exact same as Sakura except she was quieter and much more subserviently to Naruto, never rippling the water. You never saw Hinata growing out of her love for Naruto, which is the same criticism people use for Sakura as to why she never evolved passed her "crush." The only difference is that Hinata rooted for the underdog (Naruto). Two, she had natural powers that already made her OP in comparison to the other genin, while Sakura had to rely on her natural intelligence and hard work once she matured and found her path in life. Third, after the time skip, Hinata became more pleasing to look at according to the male gaze.

(BTW I don't mean to dogpile Hinata. I am waving my truce flag here. It's just a comparison between her and Sakura, not a criticism.)

Back to Sakura: Her fangirling was annoying in the beginning. I never identified with her because...Sasuke -shudder-, but y'know why i looked passed it?

Cause she was a 12 year old girl in the beginning of the series.

I was once a 12 year old girl. And I can confirm, I was pretty much like that (it may have been for Kyo from Fruits Basket but the point stands).

Plus, as a 12 year old girl, she was more mature than Sasuke and Naruto in the beginning because she was wise and had risk assessment. Most of the fights where people claimed she was useless, she was actually just respectfully listening to what her sensei told her to do, as in...Not get in the way and be a liability (Land of Waves). Or she was one-shot because...um...Well, she jumped in front of Gaara who was half transformed into Shukaku. Oh, and prior to that, she cut her hair during a fight! Would you be able to cut your hair on a whim? Just like that? Just let a piece of what you loved most about yourself go because you needed to in order to win? Could you??? I definitely couldn't.

This leads into another thing that people still complain about, and that's that she's useless, which just goes to show that women and female characters have to work so much harder to earn the same respect as their male peers. The characters somehow will only ever default to the way they were first introduced, and in Sakura's case, they feel she is useless, weak and boy-crazy over Sasuke, even though she did the most growth out of her whole squad.

It's not Sakura's fault that she wasn't born with the strongest tailed beast or magic eyes that could rip apart worlds and also be one of the children of prophecy. It's not her fault that she had to learn a variety of skills to get on the same level as the men in her life, and that she had to do much more than only learned two Jutsus to carry her through the whole series (looking at you, Naruto).

People only seem to accept the women from the start in Naruto if they showed up looking hot, overpowered or naturally talented right out the gate. It's like there's almost no room for women to develop and grow in the series, which is so sad.

Now, maybe the Sakura hate is actually just a loud minority. Afterall, she did get A LOT of votes on the character poll, so maybe the misogyny isn't as rampant as I fear. Plus, I have noticed there's a significant decrease in the amount of hate I see for Sakura, so maybe the community has grown up and their opinions have changed as they matured, which is good.

I just don't see what else the hatred for Sakura could possibly be...unless we talk about her Anime personality. The Anime Sakura is actually way worse than her canon self, which could make a person who never read the source material think she is a bad character.

Also, if you just don't like her cause she doesn't float your boat, I think that's fine. I hate Sasuke nearly with a passion...I can't pin point why, he just isn't my thing and I wouldn't even be able to elaborate on it (though I do like him better as an adult).

I just personally feel that at this point in the fandom we are passed the low hanging fruit of Sakura hate such as "she's weak" "she's useless" "she is too interested in Sasuke".

Actually, I feel that I personally have reached a point in this fandom where I don't want any low hanging fruits of character hate. I guess I just don't have time to hate on characters at all, unless we are talking about flaws for analysis.

I come and engaged with this series to have fun and escape the hardship of life for awhile. Smashing characters in a series I love is just not worth it to me.

So yeah, I will absolutely support Sakura fans.

And um...I would absolutely support Sasuke fans, too (begrudgingly). Just like I would fans of anyone else's fave.

[hesitationss]

gundam: the witch from mercury cour 2 ep 2/ep 14, spoilers ahead!

okay okay i did make a post freaking out about this episode, but i'm a bit normal again. if you haven't watched the prequel episode, i highly recommend doing that! my personal watch order was watching gwitch ep 1 season 1 and then doing the prequel, it made for a really cool experience and gave me much to think about and OH BOY ep 2 has me THINKING HARD.

we get more of prospera's evil schemes... is it evil? she wants to end all war... by the end of the ep... YEAH it's fucking evil lol.

i am so glad that the earth students aren't just being tossed aside for the main plot, they are being included as a part of the stakes. nika's involvement with shaddiq's plans and them all having personalities, it's so nice to see! martin is becoming more and more upset with nika and nika we are seeing both a bit of nika's backstory as well as her personal wants and dreams beyond the mask that she has put up for everyone. her story about her being in extreme poverty and working on machines and being really happy about being able to go to school, if viewers haven't picked up on war is bad themes yet... this episode for sure solidifies so much. even still, she wanted to bare the burden of everything after realizing how bad everything was turning out to be. even still, she didn't want her fellow earthians getting involved and wants them and suletta to have a normal school life... but nika is just a kid too 😭🥺

also lol...elan is so annoying oh my god.. i know he is like desperate to live, but damn lol 😭

also just a side note but lilique is so cute!! she's very sweet and was just trying to share goat milk with space ppl, they did not have to be so disgusted with it!! also one thing i appreciate is that there are characters with a variety of bodies. lilique is a plus size teenage girl and she even had normal teen boy troubles in season 1 when things were more normal... <3

okay onto the rumble ring: um another side note but lauda having a moment with petra while that other girl is like HUH...dat cold hearted boy is capable of having feelings?

anyway,.. the emotional beats of the rumble ring happening with like all of the pilots personal goals and thoughts coming together on a "mock" battle field while belmeria confront prospera is so chef's kiss. like ugh so much is happening and then chuchu in her usual anger at the elite/spacians is about to blast them in her machine, but it thwarted by flashbacks from the plant quetta incident... i really think that plant quetta is such a major turning point for all of the earthians. they have had to suffer the most already, and now they realities of war are starting to sink in. i'm also just assuming that chuchu's rage is mostly from experiencing the prejudice and aftermath of war as well as wealth inequality and being raised by her 9 dads who are amputees or disabled in other ways from warfare, but she herself has never experienced it first hand until plant quetta. all these earth kids are being haunted by the consequences of imperial and capitalist violence and they are the ones who must endure the most. it's such a noteworthy moment for me in this episode, especially after sophie and norea make their appearance and nearly kill lauda. chu, even after everything knows the reality of war violence and moves to protect them because she doesn't want to see anymore people die.

but chu isn't the only one in the aftermath of war, that's all of the earthians, including sophie and norea... when sophie gives her mini monologue about the things she wants, the things she will kill for "meals big enough to fill my stomach, a fluffy bed to sleep on, warm showers, [...] and also.. a family who will always love me" despite the killing, you can't help but feel for them too, they also took on the "GUNDAM curse" to pilot killing machines to hopefully change their lives. and they fully believe in what they're doing because they have no other choice. the fate of the witches from earth is tragic because children fighting wars in machines that kill them is tragic.

new elan clone doesn't want to die, so he is also fighting for his life, nika has been kidnapped, suletta is starting to realize the weight of taking a life. sophie and norea... i shan't go on... there is so much happening and at the centre of it all is prospera and truth about eri samaya... "creating a world where eri will be happy" AAAHHHHHH

any way i'm going to become a villain now 🚬🐀😭 we're really in it for real now... earth students PLS survive!!

#gundam #the witch from mercury #g witch spoilers #g witch #on to episode 3............................ #long post

[rat-cigars]

Damn Bitch You live like this?

masterlist

(a/n: I hope y’all love it still. This chapter is gonna be some fluff and a bit of a time jump. Edward becomes more and more enthralled with you and Bruce is up to some of his own stuff. Who knows u might even see Batman? 18+) 

(TW: incel, chemicals, robbery, fighting, boner alert,)

**Edward POV)

*Reader POV)

Wc: 1375

Possible Spoilers in this chapter 

Afab!Reader (she/her) pronouns

Chapter 12: Boner alert

**Edward laughed at your comment, feeling quite giddy about the whole situation now. When he had first reached for the door he was terrified of how you’d react. Would you cower in disgust, or feel uncomfortable? 

The ideas flooded Ed’s mind when he had opened it. But to his surprise you hadn’t been grossed out, just teasing him playfully. Causing him to become a little bashful and pink faced. 

You wandered over to the bed closest to the window looking out through the curtains. Stumbling behind you he was curious if you had noticed his shrine. Oh shit his shrine. His heart plopped to his ass as he quickly stumbled to get the photos on his desk. He also grabbed the journals, shoving them all into the bottom drawer. Luckily you had been too entangled with the bright city lights to notice him.

 “Isn’t it beautiful Eddie?” 

You turned to him, a halo forming behind your head from the city lights. Stunned by the beautiful image he stood with his mouth agape, struggling to speak. You had seemed to notice and smiled warmly to him, finally choking out a small agreement. 

Edward stumbled to your side, gently setting himself on the bed behind you. “This city’s a wasteland.. the only ones who thrive are the big wig billionaires.” He sighed, hating that you seemed to forget the horrible things that had happened in your past. 

“That’s not true.” You remarked back, getting up from the window and walking to sit next to him. “Why not?” He furrowed his brows, beginning to get a twinge of annoyance. 

“Well,” you started with a soft tone, gazing into his eyes. “Ron’s able to thrive, he loves this job. He works hard and he’s been able to have a happy life with his wife and kids. He’s a kind, genuine soul and he’s always helpful. He thrives not only financially but also in his own personal life.” 

You smiled. Edward couldn’t help but look away feeling ashamed, because ultimately you were right. But Ron was a one in a million case. He sighed, running a hand through his hair and adjusted his clear big frames. “I guess.. but.. what about the common people though?” 

He raised a brow. “Well I’ve been able to do just fine. College degree, apartment. Plus the hotel isn’t too bad, the worst part is just the walks to and from work.” You chuckled. 

“I’m not exactly thriving yet but I think that if I work hard I could get out of here.” You smiled. 

Edward groaned a little annoyed you were right. You were so hopeful, so blinded. “I think that the city is starting to heal in small ways..” you shrugged.

 “The Batman seems to be helping quite a bit.” You smiled fondly at the thought of the vigilante. Surprisingly Edward had to agree, They did share the same goals after all.

 Though Edward could never do the damage that Batman could. 

He was lanky, minimal muscle, but he wouldn't need to fight. Hopefully he and the bat could work together as a mix of brains and brawn.

 “I wonder who he even is.” you giggled. “Eh, who knows.” Edward wasn't as concerned with who he really was, because it didn't matter. Batman was the one with the power and fear, he'd shown his ability to fight and take down anyone who wronged the common people of Gotham. You relaxed back on his bed for a moment, calling his name as you held your arms open. 

*Pulling him down to you, you leaned up and caught hip pale pink lips on yours. They were chapped, as per usual and you could feel the grin forming on his lips.

You pulled away but only for a moment to gaze into his eyes, then the both of you continued, your cheeks flushing to a matching shade of pink. 

You smiled as you crawled up to get more into the bed, pulling him with you. Bodies collided momentarily as he had lost his grip to keep steady above you. You squealed as you felt something.. Hard. Oh god, you couldn't have.. You ignored it but knew that you'd caused this excitement.

Continuing to trail your hands on each other's bodies, you finally stopped when he let out a choked grunt and then turned bright red, realizing what had happened. The shocked gasp that escaped your throat seemed to be a natural reaction, unsure how you had caused him to well.. Yknow. The thoughts were cut short by Edward laughing nervously and springing away from you.

 “I uh.. I think you should go..” He looked down ashamed. But understanding why, you had no issue obliging. You couldnt fuck him yet, you barely knew the man still. You sighed and nodded, grabbing your bag and hurrying out, embarrassed for yourself. 

The Flashes of white once again shocked you as you suddenly recalled why you had rushed there in the first place. Running down the hall towards the stairs you leapt down them in a panic, nearly breaking your heels as you rushed. 

It was a fast run down to the lobby and Ron was behind the counter, the phones seemed to be an alarm, constantly ringing out. The doors behind you flung open and once again the voices yelled their questions at you, once again disorienting you. Running past Ron you stopped in front of the glass doors, there were even more outside. The lights were blinding and you were in no mood or condition to be swarmed. Suddenly there was an arm around you and the voices started to yell even louder, and you heard it. 

“Batman!” The reporter called, “What do you have to say about the most recent Maroni Bust?” They called but he was quiet. Face stern and guiding you with his cape covering you slightly from the cameras.

 Luckily his presence alone seemed to keep a distance between you and the hordes of chaos. You were on auto-pilot at this point, just moving with his assistance.

Staring blankly at the ground as you walked. There was a large black SUV outside of the hotel's valet area, and there was a gentleman waiting outside by the backseats door. “Bruce Wayne has offered you a room at his manor for the night, in light of recent events he sent his apologies.”

 Batman spoke in a low growl, only loud enough for you to hear. “Why is he doing this?” You questioned, raising a brow as you studied his features.

“It's not safe for you to be going home tonight, especially not alone. He would like to offer a place away from the paparazzi and would like to speak with you.” He looked at the older man beside the door. 

You sighed and nodded, “I just want this night to end..” Groaning and rubbing your temples. “Nothing happened.. He was just being friendly I guess..” Batman nodded and spoke to the gentleman, “Alfred I trust you'll see her to the manor?” The old man nodded and turned to speak to you as Batman walked away. “Miss y/n, We are terribly sorry for the media's behavior. It's not often Master Bruce is seen out, and especially not with a girl.” 

He chuckled, but he was genuine with his words. You chuckled, it reminded you of Ron in a way.

“Thank you guys, I appreciate it.” You smiled and got into the car driving back with alfred. You made small talk on the way home and explained the full situation to him, but luckily he was caught up for the most part. Making your way towards the gate, he punched in a code and you began to drive to the giant mansion.

#dbyllt #riddler 2022 #rat rites #the riddler x reader #paul dano riddler #paul dano #dano!riddler #the riddler x y/n #riddler x you #batman 2022 #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader #bruce wayne x you #batman x reader #batman x fem!reader

[aspiringroses]

I’m preparing for the first time in my life to set proper New Year’s resolutions. I know there’s a pessimistic view on them and that people fail but my goals are literally about taking care of myself and becoming the woman I wish I was. I work hard in school and at my job but I’ve severely failed at also taking care of myself. My goals are :

- start to properly take care of my hair.

I don’t go to the hair dresser as often as I should (one a year lol), I’ve split ends and my busy stressful schedule often leads my hair to look tired and I get hair loss. It has lead me to feel really insecure about my appearance. I want to figure out what my hair type actually is and what makes it feel and look good.

- fix my gut health

Hot girls have tummy issues after all but damn I’m tired of it. I feel bloated way too often, I feel heavy or I feel drained. The immune system is in the gut and I know it drains on my general health and energy to walk around constantly slightly in pain. I also have a terrible relationship to food where it goes up and down and I’ll have weeks where everything tastes disgusting and I don’t get all the nutrition I need.

- set skin care routine

I do take quite well care of my skin (on my face), but it’s far too irregular of a routine. I feel good when my skin looks and feels nice and I find it calming to take that moment for myself but I do tend to prioritize other things above it far too often. Next year I want to have a proper schedule set for it where I take care of myself on certain days no matter what. I also need to find a proper body lotion and scent that fits me. I want to take some better care of the skin on the rest of my body.

- get a style

I know I dress somewhat nice and it’s not uncommon for me to get compliments on my dressing style but it’s not on the level I wish it was. My wardrobe is kind of a mess and I’ve never really taken the time to figure out my style and what I actually like. I rarely buy myself new clothes (or things overall) and sometimes I feel like I don’t even know who I am when I see myself in the mirror before work. It’s very much a second thought in the mornings and I don’t want that anymore.

- get back into reading and having hobbies

My life revolves around school and work. I have hobbies and I game a lot but it’s not like it was when I was younger. I’m a curious person by nature and I feel a slight mental decline in not taking time to also stimulate my interests, learning something new for the fun of it and learn in some new skills. I feel I’ve become more shy and afraid of trying new things. I also feel often restless when I have time off for myself because I don’t know what I want to do.

- put more effort into my relationships

I love being alone and I’m an introvert by nature so after long days at work and late nights with school I often lack the energy to put down towards other people. I believe in time for myself but I also need a balance of getting back into actually communicating and hanging out with friends, also spending more romantic and fun time with my partner.

- keep it clean!

I’m far too messy for my own good. Sure I don’t live in complete filth but I notice how often I get annoyed at myself for not picking things up or doing laundry earlier etc. in 2024 I don’t want to have these overwhelming moments of “oh wow it’s gotten dirty!”, I want to put a bit of effort every day to keep it somewhat tidy.

- work out.

I give up and I give in. I need to work out. I’m still in my early twenties and my back, knees and shoulders hurt often. I’m not overweight neither do I have any illness or health issue that creates this, I’m literally just a goblin that forgets to sit and stand properly plus the amount of time I spend sitting down by a computer both for work, school and free time is … shameful.

- journal and emotional control

I need to sort my thoughts better, get a firmer grip on my feelings and stop neglecting when my body and mind tells me we are feeling bad. I’ve a tendency to push past every feeling and exhausting myself or losing focus on what it was that I felt. I want to journal more and maybe try mediation again.

I want to do all this and I know to most people who know me.. it’s ridiculous. I’m far from the girl that gets up at five in the morning to drink a green tea and do some stretches before work. But I want to be and I won’t just wake up one day and be that. I’ll still have my lazy days and bad days and so on, but god lord knows I’ve a tendency to wish for health and happiness and stability and routine… while doing nothing to get it. Even if I’m reaching for the starts with these goals…I might not make all of them or do it perfectly but then I’ll at least end up by the clouds and that’s further up than where I started. Wish me luck on this journey ✨

#dream girl #aspirations #clean girl #dream woman #happy girl #it girl #manifesting #preparing

[madchild-dennis]

Dear Ms. EASY, Thank you.

So I wanted to say, "well I'm done on that topic". But God is like NO.

So let's continue. You see I was going to emphasize on how WE ARE NOT THE SAME. Also on how NO ONE moves from me to you. Not based on looks (beauty is in the eye of the beholder) or personality (to each his own). However from the BASIC caliber-ness. No matter how you THINK we're comparable because you're a "virgin waiting for marriage" too. That don't mean shit. I mean you can't even compare us at the same age. Scroll back on my Instagram and see. You'll still be intimidated and more by ME at the same age.

WE ARE NOT THE SAME!!!

(you're not even a poor counterfeit. We all know this.)

I could even talk about your self-esteem but I think I'll redirect that focus to him.

You see the reason I can say we were NEVER together and the reason he chose YOU isn't because you're better or that we're similar. It is just the lack of his self-esteem.

Simply put: YOU ARE EASY!!!!

You see from day fucking one I was NEVER EASY. Every guy KNOW THIS. I never made it so for him, either and NEVER WILL.

However if he had a higher self-esteem and not deadly afraid, no deadly hate rejection because of his lack self-esteem then he wouldn't have met you in the 1st fucking place.

Let me paint the picture:

One of the first proper conversations we had in 2019, he shared a story of a girl he met in a taxi. They were conversing well. Then they were coming to the end of the ride so he asked for her number. But instead of giving it, she became difficult or gave him difficulties. Now this dude tells me that instead of saying, "hey thats Kool. It was nice meeting you." The bitch told me he was not having it and she didn't have to gwan suh. Then dark her up. Basically made a big stink about it.

So basically with his own tongue he told me he can't take a rejection.

Oh, just so you know, this is a fundamental problem of his. How do I know? His mom confirmed it. Remember this thread with ALL the things she and he told me in 2020:

Well, as much as this story taught me he like disciplined things. It also confirmed that he deadly HATE rejection. You see his mom told me he wanted to be in Cadet. In fact he was in it for a minute. But he had to do something, which led to him miss one or something or late. Then the head/leader told him to pack his bag and leave very publicly that day. Instead of swallowing his pride and return next time. The bitch never went back no matter how much he liked it. The nigga just weak.

Then the dude carried the story home further that year in one of our late night conversations during this thime:

He shared more story of his deadly hate for rejection and how he will respond with disgusting retort at rejection. Especially public ones.

Yes I knew this and CONTINUE TO GIVE HIM SUCH LOUDLY AND DISGUSTINGLY WHILE I KNOW HE HATE THAT SHIT.

Why?

"Get over it you soft, weak-ass bitch. Mommy is not going to be there to make everything easy. You fucking mama's boy."

Anyway that's not my problem anymore, according to you right?

So Ms. EASY, stay easy 🤙🏾✌🏾.

Wait you don't understand how you're only appeared to him because you're easy. Damn. Ok, story time:

So in 2019, when we first-ish kinda met. We were cool and stuff and I didn't realize my heart was admiring him and falling for him before the rest of me was. So when this was becoming too obvious because I was head over heels. I needed it to make sense. As I'm 1. I didn't date younger guys. Then I was starting to consider one because of a crush that year. But he was 5 (actually 6 but at the time I thought it was 5) years younger. That is a BIG gap compared to the crush I had. Plus 2. I needed it to also make sense. I do not date based on feelings only. I'm looking for husband not boyfriend. I want our futures to line up and our goals to meet with each other. So I need it to make sense. I needed to know that he's actually mature before I allow myself to fall.

So I decided say let's meet. He was filled with excuses why we can't meet. That is to meet somewhere other than while I'm working. Plus after work couldn't work because of curfew at the time. So I found a relationship video to help guide me and make 10 questions for him. These 10 questions:

(at the time it didn't say 5 year plan it said "what is the plan after 6th form")

Nigga disappeared. I figured he found a new gf (he confirmed it a year later). Then he came back talking about he thought I'm trying to turn him down easy. I said just saying no is easier. Dude still didn't answer. Coming to me talking about girls at school want him and he wants to tell them he had a gf. Which my response as a 23 year old ADULT at the time who ain't trying to just be a girlfriend. "If you want a girlfriend, any girlfriend, here's an option." Then gave him another girl's contact as an option. Because obviously he wants just a girlfriend and I'm not just any and any girl. Is either he wants me which is a whole different story.

Anyway time past he got involved with some girls (he confirmed). So by the end of that year he came back. I'm still in my feelings but I still don't know him so I'm NOT jumping into a relationship just because I liked him. Anyway we talked a little until he did something stupid (in my opinion). Coming to me directly would have been better than posting about it. But he's a GenZer to the core. At the time I thought he was posting confessions on his WhatsApp to brag. (Funny how I still have some of the confessions screenshoted. I created a poem around them. I created the poem use it to say "see stay away because obviously that what he likes or the type of person he is"). He later explained only I and a few friends could see it and he was trying to share them with me. I guess confess his exploits to me in hopes I don't judge. I wouldn't but I thought he was bragging. Which made him look like a fuck-boy or someone who enjoyed those exploits or hurting others/playing with their emotions.

The time videoed here cleared that up…a bit:

But at the time because I did NOT know him I got upset. Then from then until about April that year we barely spoke. Or I did all the talking and he was too busy to open his mouth. Anyway April 2020. Sounds familiar.

Well I was recovering from Covid and I couldn't work or busily ignore my feelings. So I wrote some things. 5 pagers and more. Sharing my feelings and sent it. Not the first but the longest at the time. The 20 pager didn't come as yet. To then while on the phone for the first time in a long time. Dude say he thought all my long epistles were rejections.

I mean my rejection are simple as easy. Either I ignore you or I give you the max 5 lines saying I don't think it's best or tell it to your face. Easiest is ignore. Very few get a rude rejection but they deserved it.

So for a dude to say I spend my amazing sleep hours to write 2-5 page worth of anything as a rejection. Obviously that's what he wanted. So I literally said that then said, "If you want it then here it is: Raheem Fowler NO."

Yep. He opened his phone and got what he hated from me in the plain simple way.

Tell me something Ms. Easy. Isn't that when you guys started to date? Yep it is.

Dude was so hurt he went to our mutual friend then boom he introduced him to you. So because he feels like shit from many angles. From the rumours from school painting him as a fuck boy. Well not just rumours but the point is he feels like shit and guilty about his past. Then the love of his life gave him the worst thing in the world.

You Miss "I must look like goody two shoes. I'm soft, save me I am perfect and no fault". Didn't make him have to prove himself. Well, his ego was stroked. His pride slapped with a bandaid. Then because of your lack of self-esteem or restraint or feel you can't get any good man because you don't see your own value to make him work. So you said yes after he effortlessly convinced you. Trust me I know how he can get. So you were EASY.

So Ms. Easy, you're back again. You not even stuck with the bitch like I i…was. Because thanks to you. That's now my past.

THANK YOU!!!

Girl if you think you got him. Don't think about whether I can do anything about it.

MAKE SURE THAT GOD CAN'T DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT. That would be both of our problems.

I know you tied him like how your grandmother or such tried to Obeah me. Make sure it don't fail like that Obeah failed with me.

Also you are now my GREAT BIG HOPE. Why?

That means I don't have to stress about him or him fucking up and I have to kill him. Why? If he be with you or anyone, and he dies by God's hand. That means I get me a beautiful amazing guy who will know how valuable I am and treat me as such; the replacement.

Do you know how stressed I was at the idea that I have to kill his ass. It would be after I let my guard down then now God saying I'd be pregnant soon. So I'd have to kill my own blood child too. Because if after 13 years he fucks up then I don't have to kill the child, because…SHIT. I was also stressing about killing someone I'd let my guard down about and my own child. That was NOT…aaahhh. But thanks to you Ms. Easy, I don't have to worry about it.

Make sure it STICKS. So this won't EVER HAVE TO BE A STRESS OF MINE EVER.

BYE NOW AND THANK YOU 😊

#Youtube

[angrilymanaging]

So today I officially decided that I was over social media. Like I tried to can with the Facebook, Instagram, and TikTok apps but I simply cannot. I’m convinced that those particular apps are for the willfully ignorant, and I couldn’t. I’m a writer, and that’s what I do. Most people on those apps don’t even read write or spell very well. It’s easier for me to use my blog. Also I went to Only Fans, cause I do like to post the occasional pic and video. Truth is I’m grown. To much kid shit on those apps. I really don’t play, like I’m not an internet thug, I really be ready to punch a bitch in the face, you come out ya mouth wrong at me, and people in those places like to talk. I like to talk as well, I got a smart ass mouth, and if you try me I will verbally assassinate you, with zero hesitation so. It’s the immaturity for me for real. I can’t get with that shit, and I don’t care much for stooping to someone else’s level, so it was best for me to move on. I dont have time for it anyway, also I have a You Tube, so I will just focus on that. I dont have time to be postin so much anyway. I’m able to write, and make videos in the little down time I have so, I really am not interested anymore.

Sometimes you just grow out of things. Like when I started using Facebook, it was probably 2010, and when I opened mine, I had to use my MCC school ID, to gain access. They started letting anybody on that shit, and it went to hell. I got caught up with Instagram, I was looking to be a brand ambassador and they told me I couldn’t yet because my following was too small. They had me sign up and pay for a service that was supposed to “organically grow” my following, at the end of the day, when I shut that down, I think I had 12 point something thousand followers the Fck?!! And now I’m famous for reasons nobody probably should be, and still no brand ambassador job, and everybody in my business for nothing so never mind no thank you. Pettiness and bs on tiktok was the same, dirty ass niggas, and the women child, I don’t even have a lot of respect for women, so imagine the vexation. Like if you a bitch I would just prefer you not even bother like unless you wanna fight, but obviously they don’t just like a woman they only wanted to sit on they ass and run their mouths. You not bout to aggravate me on my damn phone.

I have or at least I’d like to think that I have a level of confidence that absolutely at this point will not be matched. I’d rather write, and post pics, and vids that make you upset cause I know ya nigga look at them, regardless of how ugly y’all claim I am. Plus I had a conversation with the S.O. Who’s aggravated but not cause I’m on my phone so much, but not really. I gather there are things out in the open that they would prefer me not find out, cause the town where I live is messy as fck, and that’s fine cause you do whatever. I will simply follow suit, but as it suits me. I gather by the types of women who come for me, that I legit am just not their type. I never was… bitch tried to treat me like they would treat that type though, and I wasn’t havin it… I’m still not, baby listen, when I came to the realization, like legit that shit has recently been hitting me over the head like a ton of bricks lately, its aggravating to because I really thought… but since don’t nobody pay me to think, I’m just gonna do what comes naturally to me. I’m more quiet anyway when I keep a journal, and between writing, keeping a video blog and Only fans, I feel like I might just find some balance, which has always been my goal.

I enjoy journalism. Social media, I thought was like the new age it right, because news papers, and magazines have all since been discontinued, But it seems like the world of social media is filled with, narcissism, ignorance and it disgusts me now. Of course I’m miserable, It’s like going to school everyday encountering bullies, and I HATE BULLIES WITH A PASSION. I’m only a mean girl when I encounter them, and I’m trying to move 100 % into my feminine, and it is not going to happen anywhere on any of those apps. There’s only a certain amount of gate keeping I’m gonna accept, and this over here is my lane. I dont have to worry about having to avoid dumb shit on my own pages, I can just come and be legit focused on myself. I have a feeling though that, they will come, but it will be harder for them to be discreet with the dumb shit over here. I just don’t have time anymore. I don’t want to be unhappy so I’m not. Not about to bother with trolls, and that’s what they look like on and off line. Child most of them don’t even have all their teeth in their mouth. People like that try to make you miserable, because they have no substance in their life. I’m convinced even this thang I live with. I don’t even it’s late, and I don’t really even have the energy to get into it, I know for facts that my content writing, and vlogging will turn up more than it’s fair share. Let’s just say that anything to get a rise out of me is going to be the topic, lucky My discovery of me will be where I find peace. Nothing like writing it down, and talking to myself about it, along with a fire ass pic to put me in a better mood about me, GOD knows I deserve it.

My whole life I have been around nothing it seems but people who try really hard to keep me from me. I just came also to the conclusion that, My kids are raised. I am not and cannot have anymore babies, and I’m young enough now to live my life for me. Obviously I’m still a mother… but not like I was, not like when my kids were little. They aren’t anymore, and it ain’t nothin behind my cervix but womb. I am beautiful, I have a decent body, which I’m bout to work really hard on and for the first time in my life, acne isn’t plaguing my face. Mind My business? Bet baby, cause I never had the chance to be wrapped up in me. I’m about to start though. The people worried about me bein in their business need not worry. They will be looking for me before I’m EVER looking for them. It’s always like that.

[lolacouldnotcareless]

brain has been an asshole for the past few days

#and keeps behaving like one #personal #'you don't need exterior validation only yours matters' but consider. i have none. #external not exterior sdjfs wtf #at least i haven't had some for this week lmao #and the good old 'i don't want to force my friends to say nice things but also i'll shut up about my need for reassurance' #'and i won't communicate' #'i don't want to be a burden they must have other things to do' #'they are busy they may not be in the mood' #'what if they're having a bad time too' #oh my goodness how stupid am i #flashnews brain: they cannot guess!!! they cannot read my mind!!! #worst thing we're all having a bad time together #which automatically makes it less bad #double negative = positive or something like that english is great in that domain #worser thing we're all miserable in our corners and you know what. fck it. #if i could spit properly i would. (but i can't) #(plus it's disgusting but also that's the damn goal) #(so instead y'all have to deal with my glares instead)

[belbeten]

Arthur Fics - For International Arthur Appreciation Day

I love the many nuanced ways fic-writers are able to capture Arthur, and all of his different sides (sides of a die!, GET IT?! 🎲), because we all know there really is so much more to him than just being a stick-in-the-mud. So, as a companion to my fic rec list for Eames, here’s a bunch of versions of Arthur that I love:

Coincidentally, You by @deinvatiwrites

23k, Explicit rating, Arthur/Eames

Dei describes this as “23k words of Arthur loving Eames so much he disgusts himself.” And while that’s not wrong, it is also so much MORE than that. It’s Arthur loving Eames so much that his yearning physically reaches out of the computer screen and grabs you by your heart and squeezes. It’s Arthur loving Eames so much that he’ll go to lengths he himself never would’ve thought and take risks in order to try and save Eames and his family. And it’s Arthur loving Eames so much that he finally stops lying to himself about the way he feels, and how much he wants Eames. Just. Go read this one right now.

Everything Is Going to Be Alright by @toyhto

6k, Explicit rating, Arthur/Eames (although do make sure to mind the tags: Eames is dead)

This is beautiful and heart-breaking and funny all at the same time. Eames is a ghost, and Arthur is dealing with grief and regret, and learning how to change and how to cope. It’s such a great portrayal of his character.

On My Knees I Think Clearer by @stormofsharpthings

86k, Mature rating, Arthur/Eames, various background relationships

An absolute page-turner (although, can I call it a ‘page-turner’ if I’m just scrolling? 🤔) of a hilarious, action-y, emotion-filled spy romp. Arthur is a total BAMF, which is always fun and exciting to read about. But he’s also such a strong leader, very charismatic and intelligent and loyal, and just infinitely likable in this.

Orbit by @finelydressedspacemen

8k, Teen rating, Arthur/Eames

A clever and funny ground control/space AU. Arthur overthinks things, and worries, and is conflicted, but is so intelligent and competent and caring. And despite what he would insist, he is actually very romantic in this.

The ink and the itch by @kate2kat

3k, Teen rating, Arthur/Eames (pre relationship)

Arthur gets a tattoo (the ink); Eames is intrigued (and the itch). (Gosh I do love a clever title!) This fic packs a lot of character development into 3k words, and it’s a really beautiful slow dance of Arthur and Eames circling towards each other. A portion of the POV is Eames observing Arthur and appreciating little things about him, so it was a must-include on this list. Plus, Arthur with a tattoo: yes, thank you!

Four Years by @corinnetags

15k, Explicit rating, Arthur/Eames

An Olympic swimming/diving AU. Diver!Arthur just wants to win gold. He is so dry, and so focused, and so inflexible when he’s working towards that goal. But then (spoiler!), he catches feelings!!! And can’t you just hear his voice say this: “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that, because I was still planning on having more sex with you tonight.” Like, yup, that’s the perfect A/E dynamic right there.

Where Once Our Bodies Lay by Starlingthefool

12k, Teen rating, Arthur/Eames

A Cold War Era Spy AU. It is delightfully mysterious, and it emotionally smacks you upside the head. I don’t want to give anything else away. Arthur in this fic is subdued, but so intriguing.

how we move from A to B by hideyseek

7k, Teen rating, Arthur/Eames, some mentions of Eames/OCs

Modern AU where Arthur is an apartment concierge and Eames is apartment-sitting. I really love how Arthur’s point man sensibilities carry over to his career as a concierge, and how seriously he takes the job. Such a perfect characterization of: so damn competent all the time, but struggling to feel like he deserves the things he wants.

A Source of Little Visible Delight by sneaqui

12k, Teen rating, Arthur/Eames (pre relationship)

A character study and appreciation of Arthur, and how he came to be The Point Man. All the stuff he’s had to put up with, learning how to change, and with some lovely introspection and vivid vacation imagery as well.

like bad glue on a get well card by @arosewrites

4k, Teen rating, Arthur/Eames (pre relationship)

I love a good hurt/comfort. And this is the perfect combination of peak stoic!Arthur and peak oblivious!Arthur. …which I’m just now realizing based on this rec list might be a bit of a type for me 😳). But this is seriously fantastic.

🎉Happy International Arthur Appreciation Day!🎉

#internationalarthurappreciationday #international arthur appreciation day #inception #arthur #inception fic rec #fic rec #inception fanfiction #arthur eames #arthur x eames #dreamhusbands #dream husbands #other people's beautiful writing #fanfic

[multiversallyy]

i was having a bad day in general but i got inspiration to write a piece based off a wonky set of headphones i have. enjoy!! warnings: implied verbal abuse, mention of bullying. the reader is a pessimist.  additives: gender neutral, teenager reader, sun and moon are separate beings/twins, interpretable (platonic or romantic) moon x reader words: 2325

Solar Summer Camp

Three years ago, the building known as the Magic Pizzaplex burned to the ground, leaving not a wire or cord in the wake except for evacuated animatronics - the latter part being something the media didn’t tell anyone, to make the scene more dramatic and draw more attention.  But the corporation was still well off; after all, its animatronics were money-makers, all it would take was some minor reprogramming to work with teenagers, and, well... you’ve got another (hopefully) perfect bot. Ignoring all the malfunctions that led to the fire in the first place...

Fazbear Co. decided to opt for the slightly-off-the-beaten-path option; one of which was repurposing the daycare attendants for an artsy summer camp. Taking place on the progressive end of summer camps, it was meant to be peppy and cheerful, and their public goal was to help teens find their creative side and “brighten their lives.”

And just a week and a half ago, you yourself had enrolled in this new summer camp. If you thought for a second this big corporation wasn’t going to overpromote itself, you’d be dead wrong.  One of the main attractions of this place was that one of its “titular” animatronics was making a reappearance here. The Sun bot was not only popular with the kids that it had helped raise, but it was also well-received by their parents and teens who thought the design looked cool, but would definitely not enjoy actually being around him.

Speaking of being around him...

You heard Sun shout his sing-song good-morning call; it had been 17 times already that you’d heard it and you were pretty sure coming here without making an investment in the future of earplugs was a mistake. Not to say he was annoying all the time, but he always said his greetings in a sickeningly happy or childish voice that irritated you. Aside from that, he was your typical camp counselor, a feat which you were sizeably more impressed by when you found out that it was indeed a robot, and not a person in a costume being paid either below minimum wage or 200 bucks an hour to pretend like he’s the happiest guy in the world.

Your pretending duty was to act like you couldn't wait to put some stupid scribbles on a canvas and show your disgusting abomination to everyone else to get made fun of over. But the advantage here was clear; some people were here for the same reason as you. Vague artistic talent, who came here half for free school credit and half because deep down, they were hoping maybe they could get better. Plus, it was slightly less crowded than your high-school. 

But with a counselor that you had never seen touch pen to paper, let alone one that was a robot? You had low hopes for this thing from the moment you figured out that it really wasn't a costume.

On the one hand, AI stuff is really impressive nowadays. On the other... They weren't showing off some artisanal skills with a costume. It was just an animatronic. One that you were almost certain was like 10,000 others, in 10,000 other summer camps.

At the time, you were almost totally pessimistic about the whole situation, you viewed it as a relief from your day-to-day. But on one summer night, there was yelling and hollering in the cabin. A panicked robot, three frat boys to-be, and you. 

“Ugliest shit I ever saw.” One of them spat, quite literally, talking about you. You hadn’t suspected it at first; the sun bot had directed you to a nice lunch tray of pasta and an orange for dinner in the cafeteria. “Look at ‘em. Chattin’ it up with a god damn bag of bolts.” “I know, right? That thing’s got at least ONE screw loose.” They were all not-so-discreetly whispering amongst themselves, and you were completely confused. You were starting to take a fondness to the sun; unlike the childish demeanor in his tone, he was actually capable of holding a real, intellectual conversation with you, rather than repeat copy-and-pasta responses like help bots for big sites and video game NPCs. The more you talked to him, the more you regarded him as a friend and not bitterly as an authority figure. 

You were stumbling into bed at night. You knew you wouldn't be able to sleep too soon.

You'd gotten too emotional over the words of the others. Something you endlessly scolded yourself for right about now. And that stupid sun bot, to you, did nothing but spout the usual bullshit of "bullying is bad, just be friends" speech that schools loved to use.

They called you a freak of nature. The rich kids from the privileged families who were probably going to end up being “famous” artists making ugly art for a shitty new brand of NFTs in the next 10 to 15 years or so. Even saying that to yourself, even reminding yourself that their snobby behavior could very well lead them to suffer in the confines of an office job, you couldn't shake it. The feeling of not belonging. The feeling of being a disgusting burden to others. Like a diseased thing that nobody wants to deal with.

You tossed and turned in your sleep, for what felt like forever. You shuddered uncontrollably in the overly air-conditioned internal weather under the blankets that were too light to be of any help to your cause. It was Summer. Why’d it have to be so god damn cold?

Just when you thought you might space out enough to drift off into a comfortable slumber, you could hear those very same kids acting like wannabe fratboys, hanging out and punching each other and probably drinking their asses off judging by the hiccups and drawled, still unintelligible words; in a couple rooms over where you could hear everything through the paper thin walls. The erupting anger that followed was enough to rid you of any drowsiness.

So, even though they wouldn’t play music for very long, you fumbled through your bag sat next to you on the floor. After a moment of frustration, your fingers met the relaxed, familiar faux-leather texture of your headphones.

Pulling yourself back up into the safety of the cotton sheets, you began to connect them to your phone, heard the familiar beep, and sighed. Until you took a closer look at your device list. 

JBT LIVE 1703

Connected to DYCR Radio for calls and audio, 40% battery remaining

"What?" You ended up muttering it out loud. What was DYCR Radio? And, on closer inspection — why were you connected for calls?

The shadows began to feel uneasy, seeming as though they were dancing a cryptic dance in your dorm room. Just as you felt like getting up and turning on the light, you heard it. The sound of a skilled pianist. The melody was dark and haunting but so beautiful, and made the shadows in the corners flow like the ocean in a strange ocular illusion.

The tension simply melted from your body, and you let yourself lay down again as you checked the time, having a vague suspicion that it was the witching hour or something, and you were about to be involved in some vague horror story. But when you looked at the clock, it was 2 AM sharp, not the three-in-the-morning horror story you feared. 

No mistaking it; you were terrified for your life. But there wasn’t much you could do except listen. As the fear waned off your ribcage, you couldn’t help but appreciate it. 

It let you fall asleep, unbothered by any sort of intrusive thought, albeit with strange dreams.

That radio unintentionally made you base your entire visit around it. Your headphones would only connect to that radio at 2 AM on the dot, and it overrode anything you were previously playing. Then it didn’t, and you forgot to come back to listen. Then it played softly in the background of whatever you were listening to. 

Nothing stopped you from vigorously searching every corner of the Internet; consulting sources you didn't even consider plausible until now. You just needed a theory at this, not even the truth. Just a theory.

It took a major chunk out of your summer camp that you reasonably should’ve focused on, well, art; but you tied the sun robot to something. The Magic Pizzaplex, a building advertised to be full of fun for any age and managed by a corporation. And that sun robot used to be the daycare manager, or was of a similar model, judging by the photos and the comparison in your memories. But what you found most intriguing, something that actually helped you figure out what it was. The sun had a twin. A moon.

His job was to help put the bothered children to sleep peacefully when it was their bedtime. It reminded you of your own experiences. How it first came on when you were about to cry. How it was louder the nights when you were upset or harassed by your own thoughts. 

Was the moon really here? Watching over you at night, playing that haunting melody into your headphones that always made your heart rate slow to a relaxed crawl, and your body melt into your mattress as though you'd gotten to finally relax after a long day of work? Normally, you'd hate something watching you. You regarded your privacy as something very important. But the tunes, even though you recognized none of them, were familiar to you now. You trusted them. And you might extend that trust to whoever lay responsible behind them.

It was one of these nights that you wanted to settle down, and you felt your heart sink to your stomach with fear and worry as the little notification that told you that you were connected to the radio never showed up. It made you wary, and paranoid to be frank. You watched the shadows carefully, growing more and more concerned for your own safety as everyone truly and finally had fallen asleep.

At the tender hour of two-thirty in the morn, you heard a creaking noise from a few rooms over, or upon closer inspection, the ceiling from a few rooms over that made you freeze in place.

Creak. Tap. Clack. Creeaakkk.

It began to grow louder. And louder. It sounded like it was coming for your room. You made what you assumed to be an awful choice, grabbing your phone's flashlight and preparing to turn it on. And then the worst showed itself.

A pair of glowing, red eyes show themselves, on the corner between the ceiling and the wall. You shriek and promptly shine the flashlight, an angry hiss is the reward for your act.

"That's it. I'm done for, I pissed it off," you thought. "Game over, man."

"Rrrrude."

"What?" You accidentally responded out loud, turning the flashlight off. "Is this how you repay favors, Y/N?" 

"N... no? I have... a lot of questions." You responded quietly, and got an equally quiet chuckle as it crawled down from its hiding place. It would be an underestimation to say you were scared for your life when you felt something perch its claws on the wooden board at the end of your bed. "Ohhhoho, I'm sure you do. You are always so full of questions..."

The red glow of its eyes brightened. You could see clearly its facial features now. "... You're the Moon, aren't you? You- you play that piano, on the radio?”

A wider smile drew across its faceplate, that was way more expressive than you thought it would be. "Yes.” When you had the chance to observe, you noticed he spoke slowly. His voice was slightly hoarse, but not too deep, and calm as well. The sound of a slight smile played over his short-lived sentences. 

You smiled at the thought that this animatronic played the piano. The same gorgeous, unpredictable, faint piano that you listened to near every night. 

"But... you humans are such fickle things,” it huffed. You flinched at the imaginary puff of air. “You listen to the piano. Night after night, tear after saddened tear, you come back. But when you see who plays it, you run like little deer." Bringing himself closer to your form — that comparably felt like an ant to his tall frame — he made a running motion with his hand in the dark to partner his sentence. His hand then fell limp, and rested on the mattress. His eyes looked down at yours in a saddened beast sort of way. "Don't run from me as well, starlight. You love my music so. Right?”

You were taken aback by the petname. You weren't sure how to feel, but you couldn't feel angry towards him in any way. "I won't." Oh, he lit up at the sound of that. "You're a little weird. But you're not bad at all. Kinda like me?” You offered a nervous smile. His expression softened. "Like... you?" His metallic head tilted to the side, like a curious dog.

"Yeah. Someone like you." It was sudden; you were lifted off the mattress, and when your body found somewhere to place its gravity again, you felt it lean against a torso of some sort. Startled as a hand met your cheek, you eventually relaxed into the cold but just as lulling and haunting as the music that led you to slumber every night. "But. Moon..." You looked up at him, catching a brief glimpse of his dim red pupil. 

"... summer camp ends in two weeks. And, what if I'm dreaming?" You brought your knees up closer to your torso, trying to make yourself even more comfortable where you were and to feel more secure, feeling a light, caring embrace that served that purpose. His voice then whispered to you and you alone. 

"Either way you will hear the radio tomorrow."

#moondrop x reader #moondrop x y/n #fnaf x reader #fnaf x y/n #x reader #five nights at freddy's #fnaf fandom #sundrop fnaf #sun fnaf #daycare attendant fnaf #daycare attendant x reader

[gildedmuse]

I may be posting some short things until I get my brain back. My goal is to write quick prompts, less than a page. Admittedly, this one is two, but it's a good start. Not writing wide, but goal wise.

An Alliance Made In Paradise

"So we filled the cake up with hundreds of monkeys and had the old lady who lives in a mirror make them look like me, and then they came jumping out of the cake right in the middle of the party, shishi, can you imagine?"

Zoro cocks his head, considering what a mess only Luffy could make out of a giant cake. He pictures it again, only this time with a hundred Luffys instead of just the one. It's about the same amount of destruction, but more bouncing. "Sure, okay." Zoro shrugs, unbothered by Luffy's questioning his ability to imagine something so simple. It's clear his captain is in one of those excitable moods. It's been a while since he's been this worked up telling Zoro about some big adventure that wasn't one that had only just happened. Of course, it's been a while since he's seen his captain.

The last month or whatever - hard to keep track after being stuffed into some metal can and sunk down below the waves - Zoro has been taking care of those of the crew smart enough to know better than to pay the damn curly brow any attention when females are involved. Please. As though Zoro was about to go save that idiot's ass when he obviously could have defeated them all at Zou and at least waited around until Luffy came. But no, he had to be all dramatic about it and go off on his own. Probably shouting about how brave and selfless he was the whole time, and didn't "Nami-chan" (disgusting) find it attractive how he was acting so nobly? Tch. The cook deserved whatever fate he'd made for himself, that's Zoro's opinion. But he also wasn't going to stop Luffy from going after the idiot cook, not if he was determined to. After all, Luffy is the captain, and if he decides the worthless pervert is worth saving then he would be rescued. Just not by Zoro.

Which is why Zoro spent the last who knows how long with The Heart pirates, heading up to Wano. The crew was weird, in Zoro's opinion. Probably had to do with being cramped up under the sea in such tight quarters. There is just something about them. Plus, there were so many rules. Don't swing that sword around the control panels, you can't just open the hatch when we're submerged, those weights are too big to fit on board. Usopp and Franky seemed to get along with them alright, and Robin had been amused by them the same way she seems amused by everything (including Zoro, and he still hasn't decided if that's good or duel worthy) but Zoro didn't like them. At least most of them. The cook was alright. He didn't make the best food but he wasn't old curly brow. The bear was pretty cool. He liked napping in the sun and sometimes would surface and collapse on the top deck. Zoro often used him like a really fluffy pillow. One time he'd been lying out there when suddenly he heard soft but pointed footsteps. He hadn't been surprised to see Torao in front of him, glaring down at him.

"Well?" The other pirate had said as if they had a whole conversation when actually Zoro had just been dreaming up a new move where he tossed Wado Ichimonji into the air, did the cool cross slash, spun around, and caught it back between his teeth just like that. He just needed to work out a few more details.

Something about Law's face told him that isn't what the other man had come to hear about.

"Well what?" Zoro asked, because what else could he do when he had no idea what Law was talking about. But the other captain, he just made a loud huff of air, turned, and matched back down into the ship.

Zoro still isn't sure what he'd been so upset about.

His captain is a lot easier to understand, at least to Zoro. Whatever he says he does, and whatever he does, he means, unless he hadn't meant to. It's much easier to understand. Luffy doesn't give him cryptic looks, or lecture him in this low but proud voice where Zoro feels like he's being told off for messing up simple kata. He missed having his captain around, even at times like this when the rubber boy is wrapped around his shoulder and waist refusing to walk when he easily could have, and instead choosing Zoro as an ideal ride. All the while happily chatting on about his adventure in escaping some other yonko. Not that Zoro is surprised. Luffy is hardly going to lose against a single damn pirate - yonko or not - not when he's the man who will become king.

"And then everyone started throwing cake which is kind of terrible, because it was probably a really good cake, but it's okay because Sanji made another one! I didn't get to eat it but it smelled so good! I'll bet even you would have liked it, Zoro!"

Zoro just gives a snort at that. He's ot overly fond of sweets to begin with, much less the idea of eating something that damn cook inevitably made while risking his life for some stupid woman who isn't even on their crew. He would grumble about it, but he really has missed Luffy's energy, that sunshine that follows him wherever he goes.

Torao could get excited about stuff, too, it's just different that's all. When Toroa finds something to get excited about, he doesn't bounce around and cling to it and try to lick it just to see how it tastes and pulls Zoro along so he can see it too. He just gets this slight almost smile. It's not really a smile, but his lips form this thin line and turn up in a way that isn't quite joyful and isn't quite easy going. It's not at all silly, but it does look rather dangerous. Zoro doesn't understand a lot about Torao, but that slight smile he understood immediately. The sharpness of it, the way it cuts across the usual frustration and grimness of his face.

Zoro found that almost smile of his usually meant trouble, and Zoro liked that. He also found that some part of him, a weird part locked inside his gut, liked it even without the promise of a sword fight. Zoro isn't sure what that is all about, so he doesn't worry about it. If it were important, Zoro would know. He just would.

"Eh, weddings seem boring. All that stuffy tradition and for what? Just to let people know you like someone you already know you like?" That doesn't sound like a fun time to Zoro, not even with a giant cake pull of monkeys throwing icing in a yonko's face. Now maybe if it were a giant bowl of sake…

"It's not JUST that though," Luffy insists, tugging at Zoro's hair, which he understands means his captain wants him to turn. Only then he pulls again. Urg, make up which way you want to go before pulling at him! "Oh, also!" Even with all the tugging, Zoro doesn't expect the slam to the top of the head. It doesn't hurt, it's just more that he's spent a month adjusting to a captain who doesn't just do shit like that. "Apparently you do weddings for alliances, too!"

Again, Zoro merely shrugs. Other people can do as they like, it's hardly his life and his choice to make. "Which is why you need to marry Torao."

Luffy nearly gets dropped to the floor. The only thing that stops him is the heavy grip he has around Zoro. "What are you talking about!?" Zoro tries to twist back to glare at his captain, but that's tough business when his captain is all smiley and also right behind him here Zoro pointedly can't get a good angle to scowl at. "Luffy! You can't just tell me to marry some other captain!"

From what he can see of Luffy's expression, the pirate is biting his lip. He looks almost… regretful. Only then why would he have been the one to suggest such a crazy thing? "Torao hadn't mentioned that pirate alliances are supposed to have big wedding parties!" And for a moment his eyes brighten and Zoro thinks he can almost see his captain's logic. "Imagine a huge party with all the meat and rice and sake you can eat!" The joy is just a flicker then, and the uncertainty in Luffy's face makes Zoro uncertain, so in response he straightens up, holds Luffy even higher. He won't have his captain doubting himself. "We ARE allies with Torao, though, and Zoro is the first person to join my crew….."

So of course that would be how Luffy would show someone how much the alliance met. Obviously, he wouldn't get married. Being married isn't like having nakama. It's something responsible, adult, restrained. Just like, Zoro imagines, Luffy often sees him. And he knows Zoro would never say no, to deny his orders.

Zoro hopes Luffy knows he would never deny him anything.

Still, his captain doesn't look completely happy, but it's what he's saying he wants. Luffy usually says what he's going to do and does what he says, this is new. He can imagine how furious Torao will be when he learns of this insane new plan, he probably won't even allow it to pass. So Zoro can say yes and feel perfectly comfortable with that choice knowing nothing will come of it.

Or, Law could smile. Nearly smile. He could listen through Luffy's insane ideas and then fix Zoro with this dark look, his lips turning ever so slightly up. He can imagine the chill that runs through him when Torao takes his time looking Zoro over. No, it's not just imagination. Zoro actually shivers.

That stupid feeling in his gut gets tighter some how.

Luffy is staring at him like he wants to take it back but he also really wants that wedding feast and he just isn't sure which way to go. Zoro represses the rest of his reactions. He smiles at Luffy. "Aye, aye, Captain," and he starts heading off towards the ship, he's sure. "Only one condition… You have to be the one to explain it to Torao!"

#one piece #roronoa zoro #trafalgar d. water law #trafalgar law #monkey d luffy #one piece fanfiction #short #ZoLaw #law x zoro #ZoLu #zoro x luffy #wano arc #zou arc #page a day #prompts welcome! #pray from me #amusing musings #fanfiction

[byunbaekby]

title — the things i know pairing — soccerplayer!jisung x female reader genres — angst, fluff, high school au, strangers to lovers au, first love au, long distance relationship, hurt and comfort, coming of age overall warnings — underage drinking, cancer, character death, language, mentions of hickeys, fainting, mentions and descriptions of hospitals, soccer inaccuracies, lots of angst (you’ve been warned!) word count — 14.8k summary — jisung has never been keen on growing up, or even understanding what adulting means. at seventeen, all he knows is: he loves soccer (and he’s damn gifted at it), and girls are very pretty but also plenty scary. then he met you, his first love who turned his life upside down and made his stomach roll like the soccer balls he loved to kick around the field. but when your cancer comes back after years in remission, jisung thinks, he doesn’t really want to grow up anymore. playlist — falling, harry styles ; your guardian angel, red jumpsuit apparatus ; my first and last, nct dream ; bye my first, nct dream ; orchid, jeremy zucker

additional — for the heartbreak hotel collab hosted by @nct-writers​. my concept in the five stages of grief was “acceptance and hope.” thank you to my babes @suh-insane​ and @astroboy-lele​ for proof-reading!

The thing about knowledge is that you never know when or what you’re going to learn. There’s no way for you to predict what will be of your mind when you fall into bed that night, surrendering to the moon. In the morning, there’s no telling what knowledge your brain will choose to store away for remembrance over the course of the night, and what your brain will decide is unnecessary. What you decide not to remember is a memory you can’t even miss. 

When you wake up every morning, you don’t know if you’ll go to bed having met someone who will change your life forever. 

At seventeen, there are two things that Park Jisung knows. One, he loves playing soccer (and he’s damn good at it, the way his long legs carry him across the field in what seems to onlookers like seconds). Two, girls are very pretty but plenty scary as well. 

The day starts out normally, like any other away game that the team plays.

He wakes up at six o’clock on the dot, and eats a large breakfast to hold him over for the game, then packs a few granola bars into his soccer bag and lets his sister know he’s leaving before he jogs the way to the park where the bus is waiting for his team. The ride is normally an hour long, so he either tucks his earbuds into his ears and tries to get in a short nap or he converses with his teammates. 

Today though, the bus ride is three hours long. Crossing his hoodie-clad arms across his chest to act against the cold air of the bus, he focuses his gaze outside and watches as the town goes by. 

“Yo, Jisung, check this out!” 

At the sound of his name he turns his head, blinking when he sees a number of his teammates in the surrounding area nudging him closer. A few of them are leaning in towards a particular teammate, who displays a proud expression. “What’s up,” asks Jisung as he too leans forward toward his team member, curiosity slightly piqued.

Jaemin, the teammate in question, tugs the collar of his jersey down to reveal his skin. On the milky white curve of Jaemin’s collarbone, he sports a dark purple bruise, surrounded by a perimeter of yellow where the skin seems to be healing. There’s no question as to where that mark came from, and it definitely wasn’t from soccer. 

“Ew, man, that looks sick!” comes from Donghyuck, along with a few comments from others, either approving or disturbed. 

“Where’d that come from?” 

Renjun slaps Mark on the chest, eyebrows furrowed at him. “Obviously, it was from Anne! Didn’t you see the way they were all over each other at last week’s game?” Jaemin grins, eyes going lovesick at the thought of his girlfriend. 

Jisung’s expression contorts into one of disgust. “That’s disgusting, man,” he comments, nose still scrunched in distaste as he leans back into his original spot on the bus seat. Another thing he’ll never understand is why people are so desperate to grow up, as if giving hickeys and sneaking vodka into their Hydro flasks makes them somehow more adult. 

He slips his earbuds into his ears, playing some light muzak to lull him to sleep with his head leaned rather uncomfortably against the cold window. 

-

Jisung doesn’t think that he’s exceptionally smart; he’s gotten passing to above average grades his entire life. He’s not musically talented, nor is he particularly a smooth talker. 

But hearing people call him gifted is a feeling he relishes every time.

With his long legs and strangely large and spacious lungs, soccer called the boy’s name from the time he could run. He dominated the peewee league, then the club teams until this point, at the ripe age of seventeen waiting to be scouted for college teams. 

He wasn’t usually one to brag but today, he had shot the winning goal. 

Everyone has their thing, the one thing that they excel at. For Picasso it was painting, for Yiruma it was piano, for Renjun it’s spending four hours every night researching alien conspiracy theories. For Jisung, it’s soccer. But he’s never been exceptionally good at speaking to people. 

“What’s your name?” He hears a voice, cheery and upbeat, behind him as he’s grabbing his bag on the side of the field. The game is over, and the crowd begins to dissipate while the team members are gathering their things to return to the bus. Turning over his shoulder he sees you, wearing a bright smile. Cautiously he responds, “Jisung Park.”

“Oh, so you’re Korean then. I’m gonna write that down, okay? How long have you been playing soccer?” You ask next, and now Jisung’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. 

“Write what down?” He asks, trying to keep his tone as polite as possible. Even so, how is he supposed to react to a random person at a game suddenly appearing to ask him questions? As he wipes his forehead with his towel he adds, “Who even are you?”

Quickly you say, “I write in the high school newspaper, and wanted to get a close-up of today’s star.” It’s then that Jisung realizes the camera slung around your neck and the notepad in your hands. 

“Why are you writing about me? I don’t even go here.”

“Because,” you say, a slight sigh creeping into your voice now. “Our team sucked today. You straight up stole the show, and no one wants to read about a team that lost. I’d rather give them a peek at the star.”

“14!” His coach yells his number once, causing Jisung to look over his shoulder to the source of the voice, where his teammates are already beginning to pile onto the bus. The boy in question slings his bag over his shoulder and tucks his soccer ball under his right arm before finally getting a good look at you. “Shouldn’t you be writing something to raise your team’s spirit or something? Giving them support, maybe?”

You shrug. “I don’t like underdogs. Don’t like writing about them. I’d rather read about the heroes. So how long have you been playing soccer again?” 

“Jisung!” Now it’s Chenle calling after him, and he really needs to go. Eyes flickering to the street where his teammates are gesturing for him to hurry, he looks back to you. Your eyebrow is raised expectantly, right hip popped out as you wait. Before he starts to run off, he manages a small, “I’ve been playing eleven years. Um… bye.”

Then he turns away and his long legs carry him to the bus a few meters away. Even so, behind him he can hear your loud, proud voice yelling after him with the name of your high school: “Check the online newspaper! You’ll see my article!”

What a weirdo, he can’t help but think as the team cheers for their star player getting on the bus back home. 

-

A week later, it’s another Saturday night following a victorious win against another team in the local area when Jisung gets a call from Chenle. “What’s up,” he asks immediately, leaning back in his desk chair to throw his soccer ball up in the air and catch it with one hand. 

“Wanna party tonight? Celebrate our win a bit?”

“Where?” asks Jisung. He’d never been big on parties. For one, his long legs that were great for running weren’t exactly skilled in dancing or anything of the like. Secondly, he’d definitely be expected to talk to girls and he’s not really in the mood to make a fool of himself. 

“Taeyong’s house. Me, Mark, Hyuck, and Jaemin are going. Renjun’s busy, and Jeno wants to spend time with his cat. What do you say? Wanna join?” 

Jisung sighs. He was honestly just exhausted. “Think I’ll pass. My sister’s been getting on me about my bio grade.”

Chenle groans on the other line. “Lame.”

“Next time, promise,” says Jisung. 

“Fine. Have fun studying, looooser!” This is the last thing Chenle says before hanging up, leaving his best friend alone to shake his head with a small laugh. Then he remembers something, some words that a stranger had yelled out to him a week before. 

Sitting up at his desk, Jisung opens his laptop and types in the name of your high school, along with your town. A few clicks around the website finds him at the online news section, plus a scroll or two past some questionable articles, there it is: a picture of him mid-kick, the winning one if he remembers well enough. His nose is scrunched in concentration and strands of dark hair cling to his forehead. 

Soccer Superstar from the opposing team steals the show and the win!

A small scoff leaves Jisung’s lips, trying to humble himself as he reads over the first few paragraphs. 

Our school’s boys soccer team faced a devastating loss on Saturday in the face of the opposing team’s ace player (pictured above). The game ended promptly when the superstar player confidently kicked in the final shot, though the result had been clear from the first half of the game. 

A short interview with the hotshot player revealed that he has been playing soccer for eleven years! A senior from Neo Culture Prep, it is clear as day that the school is very lucky to have such a prodigy on the team.

Who is this superstar player, you ask?

His name is Jisung Park. 

Geez, Jisung thinks. He knew he was good but not that good. The article did a good job of spicing him up, making him look like he was a lot better than he really was. There’s too much fluff; sure, he’s skilled and he knows it, but—he touches his cheeks. They’re warm—the article makes him sound like a soccer god, and it’s beyond embarrassing. Who even are you?

A scroll to the bottom of the page tells him all he needs to know.

Article written by: (Name) (Last Name).

-

He doesn’t return to your town for almost two months. There’s a tournament today, the hours lurching between games giving him more than enough time to psych himself out about how he’ll play. 

It’s noon, the sun shining overhead causing a sheet of sweat to amass on Jisung’s forehead. His team has just won their second match of the day, and in waiting for their next game, his eyes are scanning the bleachers set up for observers on the side of the field. It’s not hard to find you, same camera hanging around your neck. 

With his long legs, he jogs over to you towel in hand. You’re not at all focused on him, eyes pressed into the camera’s viewfinder as you attempt to capture a good shot of the current game. 

“I don’t like the stuff you said about me in your article.” 

His deep voice suddenly intrudes your thoughts, and you jump in your place. As you turn to him and drop your camera from your face, he catches sight of the way your eyes widen at his appearance. A flood of recognition replaces the shock before you tilt your head. “Why? It was all good stuff.” 

Patting at his forehead with his towel, Jisung responds, “Yeah, exactly. I’m not that good. I could’ve played better that day.” This brings a small snort from you. “Really! They were narrowing the angle on me, I should have flanked or lofted.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

“It’s—” 

You cut him off before he can explain. “You’re good. Why are you so shy to accept that?”

“Why do you keep trying to paint me as the main character of the team? Everyone works hard together.” He questions, eyebrows furrowed. 

“Because you are,” you respond matter-of-factly, focused enough to press your eye into the viewfinder again. A few seconds pass, and Jisung recognizes the click of the camera as you capture something on the field. “You’re clearly the best player on the team by a long shot. You’re the main character, the hero.”

At your response, Jisung shakes his head in disbelief and scrunches his nose. There’s really no getting through to you. “I’m more than the hero you think I am.”

You turn to him, facial features contorted into a mischievous expression. “I’m sure you are.” Jisung realizes then that you’re holding something out to him. Taking it, he observes it. A… business card? With your name and number on it. “(Name). Aspiring journalist.”

“You have a business card? Aren’t you like, seventeen?” 

You shrug, smile tugging on your lips. “Never hurts to be prepared. Call me.” It’s the last thing you say before you flitter away on quick feet, leaving to interview the team which has just won their match. He watches you leave, wondering if you know what kind of effect you have on people. 

-

“I don’t know, man. She seems kinda crazy,” says Hyuck from the seat next to him, leaning his head back. However, a sudden bump in the road causes the bus to jump, startling the boy a bit. Jisung had just shared his thoughts about asking you out with his friend, who immediately made a face and shook his head. 

“Crazy?” Sure, you’re a bit forward and maybe slightly reckless, but he doesn’t think you’re… crazy. It’s been a few weeks since he last saw you and from the conversations you’ve shared over text and phone… he thinks he likes you. Like, really likes you. It’s goddamn terrifying.

“Yeah, we all saw her article,” Chenle speaks up from the seat behind him. “She’s obsessed with you.” 

Jisung rolls her eyes. “It was one article. That doesn’t mean she’s obsessed.”

“I think you should do it. It’d be funny to get on camera in case you fail,” snorts Renjun.

Jaemin pipes in from in front of them. “But if you do ask her out, she lives three hours away. That’s a lot of distance.” He’s the only one in a relationship, so maybe he has the only opinion that Jisung trusts. 

“Other people have done more distance.”

Now, it’s Jeno’s turn to pipe in. “But you’re not other people, you’re Jisung Park. You’ve never had a girlfriend.” Should he feel insulted? Chenle also adds, “Jeno’s right. You’re a senior! It’s your year, and you wanna spend it tied down to some girl who lives three hours away?” 

But you’re not just some girl. Mark’s the only one who hasn’t spoken, and most of the time, he’s the most level headed. Jisung turns to him with a sincere expression and asks, “What do you think?”

Though he had been trying to stay quiet throughout the conversation, he stretches a bit in his seat before finally saying, “I think you should go for it.”

“I think you should too!” Jaemin says. “But I think you should be prepared for what it means.”

“Whatever you decide to do, we’ll hype you up.”

“I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?” Jisung asks. “If she rejects me, at least she’s three hours away, right?” There’s murmurs of agreement around the seven of them. He tries to sound relaxed, but the thought of asking a girl out for the first time causes his heart to thump loudly in his chest. Oh god… should he do it?

“So?” asks Hyuck after a few seconds of silence, and it’s then that Jisung realizes everyone’s looking at him. “Are you gonna do it?” 

He gulps. “... No idea.”

A collective groan emerges from the group of boys. Hyuck, ever the genius, straightens his back with a glint in his eye. “How about this? If we win, you ask her out. You’ll be riding on a winning spree and it’ll give you confidence. If we lose then… there’s more girls back home.” 

That… doesn’t sound like a bad idea. But oh god, he doesn’t know which option he wants. 

-

For the first time, Jisung feels like his legs are knotting into each other, tumbling over his feet. 

Soccer had always come easily to him, like breathing. But for some unknown reason, he’s totally off his game today. He knows the play, his strengths, and even the weaknesses of his opponents, but he trips over his feet. 

No, that’s a lie. He definitely does know the source of his nervousness, and it lives in the form of a girl with a camera and a notepad sitting in the bottom corner bleacher. His breath is frantic as he zips back and forth across the field. The sounds of the game are ringing loud in his ear, and he can hardly even focus on the black and white ball being kicked around, let alone what the coach is screaming at them. They’re so close, one more goal should do it. 

He knows what’s going to happen. Jisung Park had always been known for his ending kicks.

But what if he messes it up? What if he fumbles the kick or whiffs it? 

Then again, does he even want to win? That’s a dumb quesiton—of course he does—but the question is: is he ready for what comes with the win? He really shouldn’t look, shouldn’t peek for just one look at you, but he does. You’re scribbling in your notepad, and he swears in that millisecond that you look so pretty. 

Yeah, he wants it. He really wants it. 

He’s ready, and—oh god, Sungchan is passing the ball to him. Suddenly Jisung is on high alert, winding up toward the goal. He captures Sungchan’s ball with ease, no longer tripping over himself as he makes his way to the end goal. 

One kick, just nail this one kick. 

He winds up, turning his body to the correct angle; he kicks it and…

Please go in, please go in, he’s begging. 

The ball flies in straight past the goalkeeper, who jumps toward it but there’s no use. It all happens so quickly, and suddenly his team erupts into celebration when the referee blows his whistle. Still standing there, Jisung catches his breath and stares into the goal. 

He won. 

That means… He glances at you. You’re wearing a huge smile on your face, and without noticing it himself, Jisung has his own proud smile on his. His momentary peace is interrupted by his friends running toward him, nearly knocking him over in their celebration. 

“Yeeahhh, Jisung Park, you’re the man!” 

A few minutes later, Jisung tries to calm his nerves after thanking the opposing team for a good game. When he returns to the sidelines where his stuff is, he can barely get some water down his throat before Chenle is pushing a soccer ball into his hand. “Good luck, dude,” he says, and Jisung can feel the others’ eyes on him. Oh no, it’s time. 

He steals a glance at you, and—Oh. You’re looking at him too. A bashful smile spreads over your lips and you turn away, focusing back to your conversation with your friend. His heart is beating so loud, but Jisung doesn’t think it’s because of the soccer game. Turning back to his friends, he groans, “I need a pep talk.”

“Okay, uh,” Mark attempts. “You got this, you know you’re the man. Um… if she rejects you, then it’s okay, there’s other fish in the sea!” A groan erupts through the group. “That’s not a pep talk, Mark!” 

“Listen,” says Chenle suddenly, grabbing Jisung’s shoulders to stare at him. “She’s not gonna reject you. You’re Jisung freaking Park! The star of the team and my best friend! Go get ‘em, and don’t take no for an answer!” With this, he gives Jisung a small push in the girl’s direction.

“Actually, uh—I think no means no,” pipes in Jisung but everyone cuts him off with a collective, “JUST GO!” 

Pink spreads across his cheeks as he slowly walks in your direction. At a good distance away, he places the coveted soccer ball down on the ground and winds himself up for a kick. Okay, he just shot the winning goal of the game. If he can do that, he can do this. Running forward the slightest, Jisung gives himself a silent pep talk as his foot taps the ball. It goes moving from its spot, flying through the air… and that’s when Jisung realizes his mistake. Instead of gently tapping against your ankle like he had planned, the ball flies straight in the air, knocking the side of your head rather harshly. 

“Not that hard, genius!” Chenle chastises from behind him, and Jisung has to hold back the desire to actually groan in that moment. He immediately runs toward you, hands out in surprise. “Oh my god, oh my god, I’m so sorry,” he repeats, reaching out for you. You’re rubbing the spot on the side of your head where the ball had hit, and he wants to disappear right there. 

He never should have done this. 

Why was he born again?

“I’m so sorry,” he says again for the nth time, feeling shame and humiliation speed up his spine at the way you wince when you touch the side of your head. “Oh my god, go get me an ice pack,” he demands over his shoulder at his friends.

“No, no I’m okay,” you reassure everyone. Now all the eyes are on the two of you. 

A few moments of silence pass as you eye the soccer ball which has rolled some distance away, crouching down to pick it up. Ball in hand, you scan the outside of it… and destroying all of Jisung’s hopes and expectations, you burst into laughter.

You laugh so hard, the boisterous sounds leaving your lips so vehemently that you have to cover your mouth with your hand. Jisung furrows his eyebrows. “I just kicked you in the head and you’re laughing?” Oh god, he must have done more damage than he thought. You don’t answer, the only sounds leaving you are giggles and guffaws. It’s only making him feel worse; geez, he wishes he wasn’t so tall so he could positively disappear right now. 

You finally look up at him and meet his gaze, your own eyes crinkled in delight. Flipping the ball over in your hands, you present to him the ball. Written on one of the large white spots reads a firm, “Go out with me?” in black marker.

“This is why you kicked me in the head?” You ask, still chuckling the slightest. Bashfully, Jisung nods. You laugh again. Every time you do that, he feels like getting smaller and smaller. “Of course I’ll go out with you.”

Wait, really?

He says these words aloud, eyes wide at your ease. He hadn’t expected you to actually say yes! “Sure,” you respond with a smile. “Though I could’ve gone without the head injury.” 

This brings a laugh from the both of you. He really had been worrying so much about nothing. His frame instantly relaxes, taking the ball back from you. “You sure you don’t need the ice pack?”

“No, I could definitely use an ice pack.” 

-

The first date happens two weeks after that game, and it’s his first real date so he has no idea how to act. Everything goes fine—he takes you to the local arcade in your town, and though he’d deny it to the ends of the earth, you beat him in foosball. 

“Ha!” You had screamed. “Superstar soccer player Jisung Park, and you can’t beat me in table soccer?” His cheeks had burned pink at the sound of your voice reverberating around the public arcade, but honestly the mirth in your eyes was worth it.

His cheeks are red but the air is cold on the walk home to your house. He had promised to have you home by nine, and it’s—he checks the time on his phone—8:45. 

A look at you, holding the giant stuffed teddy bear that you had won (he hadn’t won it for you, because lord knows he’s horrible at skee-ball), and Jisung can see the air leaving your lips. “Hey, you cold?”

“Nah,” you shake your head, though you scoot closer to him on the sidewalk. His tongue laves over his bottom lip quickly, and he almost wants to hold your hand. But that wouldn’t do much to keep you warm. 

He purses his lips, then immediately his hands are working at taking off his hoodie. That’s a cute thing, isn’t it? Boyfriends giving hoodies to their girlfriends? “Here, take this.”

When you take one look at the hoodie in his hands and roll your eyes, Jisung knows he’s in for it. “Seriously? You can’t fool me with some cheesy rom-com moves,” you laugh.

Ouch.

That hurt his pride. He was just trying to be nice, maybe a tad bit romantic, but you clearly weren’t having it. He should have known you would be so tsundere, and maybe he does.

He knows you act strong, like there is no way on the face of the earth that you would ever swoon for his lame attempts at flirting. But when you reach upward on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek before you step into your house, he knows you like it just as much as he does.

-

For the longest time, it’s been just him and his sister Naeun.

His parents passed away shortly after his birth, so they stayed under the custody of their aunt. When his sister became an adult, she became his legal guardian. Since then, it’s been the two of them against the world.

Though kids had sometimes made fun of him for not having a mom or a dad, Jisung never paid those kids much attention. Sure, he didn’t have a dad to teach him how to drive or a mom to attend his parent-teacher conferences, but he had his sister and she was all he’d never need. Naeun gave up everything for him: she didn’t go to college, she traded nights out with her friends to help him with her math homework, she worked two jobs so he could play soccer. She had worked so hard, perhaps sheltered Jisung so much that he had always lived a comfortable life.

It never occurs to him just how much she had struggled until the morning she asks him to get a job. 

She sits across the dining table at breakfast, and over his cereal, Jisung notes how shaken and guilty she looks. There must be something on her mind, but that’s how his sister’s always been; she doesn’t like to worry him, and speaks up when she’s ready. When she finally tells him, he blinks, confused. 

“I can’t pay the bills alone. Not with soccer getting more expensive, and the landlord raising the rent—that bastard,” she mumbles under her breath, surprising Jisung. She hardly cursed. “It’s… It’ll just be for a short time. I promise.” She has tears in her eyes. Jisung furrows his eyebrows; she must feel guiltier about this than he thought. Immediately he nods in understanding. “It’s fine, Noona. Don’t worry about it. I’ll, uh, go out looking this weekend.” 

He takes another spoonful of cereal into his mouth, thinking that the conversation will end there. But it doesn’t, his sister’s quiet voice reaching his ears. “Promise me you’ll go to college, Sung. Promise me you’ll make it. Make it all worth it.”

And it’s in that moment, in the way that his sister’s voice is on the edge of breaking, that it occurs to him just how much his sister has sacrificed for him. How quickly she had to grow up, having become his parent at eighteen, just a few months away from how old he was now. And he was nowhere near as responsible as her. 

He swears in that moment that he’ll uphold his promise. He’ll get a scholarship, he’ll help his sister out. He’ll pay back everything she’s given up for him.

-

Finally, today you’re in town.

It’s the first time you’ve come to visit him in his town, and he’s so excited to show you everything: his school, his favorite ice cream place on the corner of the street from his apartment building, and even the park he grew up kicking soccer balls at. Even after all these years, him and his friends still came here to practice their soccer technique.

Today, the two of you are sitting underneath a tree at said park, his head in your lap. You’re running your hands through his dark hair, and wow, he’d never admit that it feels so good. 

There’s a small laugh heard from you as you comb through his locks. “You should dye your hair.”

“Suddenly?” He asks. “I don’t even know what color I’d dye it.” 

“You should do like, a blue or something. Oh, purple! Purple would be nice!” Your excitement causes him to roll his eyes promptly, sitting up. “I’ll dye my hair purple if you dye your hair purple,” he retorts to you. 

“Maybe I will,” you say, standing onto your feet now that he’s gotten off of you. Wiping the grass from your legs briefly, you nod toward his soccer ball a few feet away. “C’mon, let’s play.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You wanna play soccer.”

“Yeah, is that so surprising?” 

“Um, yeah, a little bit considering the fact that you said it’s boring and that you complain having to get up to go to the fridge at two in the morning,” quips Jisung with a laugh. You only roll your eyes in response. “I never said soccer was boring, I just said it’s only interesting when you play. And you’re gonna teach me right now, so stand up,” you say, extending a hand to him.

He takes your hand, rising to his feet before picking up the ball. “Fine,” he relents, a smirk making its way onto his face. “Try to keep up.”

For fifteen minutes, the two of you race up and down the park’s open grass field, chasing the ball in every direction. He evades you, long legs carrying him and the ball while you chase after him. 

“Wait,” you say mid-sprint, slowing to a stop. Your chest is heaving, and slowly Jisung stops his running also. “You good?” He asks from a few feet away.

“Yeah,” you say breathlessly, reaching a hand up to wipe at your forehead. “Just… gimme a sec.” A minute passes of you catching your breath, but Jisung doesn’t pay it much attention—a person who didn’t play soccer and have trained lungs like him would struggle.

“Okay, okay,” you finally say, shaking your head a bit. “Let’s go again.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, worry seeping into his tone.

“Yeah, yes! Just—just go.”

So he does, beginning to kick the ball down field as he chases after it, stopping past center field to pass the ball to you. You’re racing after him, and though the ball is coming your way, you trip over it, falling straight onto the floor.

Your head hangs low, and he immediately rushes over to you.

“Hey, hey! You okay?” He asks, kneeling down but your eyes are closed. He swipes a hand over your forehead, and it’s that moment when he realizes your eyes are closed. Did you pass out? Had he pushed you too far? “(Name)?” 

No response. Oh god, what is he supposed to do?

Is he supposed to check if you’re breathing? Where can he check for a pulse again? In his moment of inadequacy, he pulls out his phone and calls his sister.

She’ll know what to do, but it pains him that he doesn’t.

His sister arrives quickly, and immediately takes you to the hospital. According to her, you do have a pulse and you probably just had heat exhaustion. He sure hopes so… 

For a few hours he sits in the waiting room as he awaits the arrival of your parents. They rushed over from your town, four hours away, and this definitely was not the impression he wanted to have on them. Head in his hands, he can’t help but worry about you.

You do wake up, eventually but he can’t see you until your parents arrive.

They take you back home. You’re walking and talking again, but as you shoot him a weak smile from over your shoulder, walking down the hall and out of the hospital, Jisung can’t help but feel that something has gone terribly wrong. 

-

He swears he’s never been so tired. 

Working at McDonald’s isn’t horrible, per se, it’s just different. But it definitely takes more out of him than soccer ever did. The second he walks into his room Jisung drops his backpack on the bean bag next to the door and almost collapses on his bed. Throwing his work cap on the floor, he runs a hand through his hair and pulls out his phone.

The best thing about coming home from work, is coming home to you.

He immediately fishes for his phone from his pocket and opens it to speed dial. Pressing on your contact, Jisung presses the phone to his ear and waits for his girlfriend’s voice on the other end. The line picks up.

“Hey,” he says, a smile spreading over his lips without him even knowing. 

“Hi…” 

Something’s wrong. Your voice is missing its signature excitement, the snarkiness he had grown accustomed to. He sits up in bed, eyebrows furrowed. “Is everything okay?” 

Yes, you’re supposed to say. Everything’s fine. Everything’s just peachy.

But you don’t. “I got a call from the hospital.”

After you had fainted the other day playing soccer with him, the hospital had run a few tests to make sure you were okay. He knew this, you both did. They were supposed to say that you had been dehydrated, that you hadn’t eaten in a few hours. “I haven’t been completely honest with you, Jisung…” 

“What, what is it?” 

There’s a momentary silence on the other side, then a shaky breath. “When I was ten… I got really sick. I was always having nosebleeds, always tired—some days I didn’t even want to get out of bed. They took me to the doctor and they told me that… I had leukemia.”

Jisung releases a heavy breath, staring into his sheets. No… don’t say it.

“I fought it for two years, and I beat it. God, it was… it was really hard, and I got through it. It’s been five years now but—but the hospital called and…” Please, no. “My cancer came back.”

Jisung’s never felt this way before; like all the air in his lungs have been pulled from his chest, lost to the universe. Not even when he sprinted across the soccer field, not even when he had gotten punched in the chest. All those times, his chest burned with fire, be it anger or passion. But now… his chest feels empty and hollow and numb. He manages to spit out a few words. 

It’s not supposed to be like this. You’re supposed to be okay, you’re supposed to go to prom together. Graduate. He’s supposed to get a soccer scholarship, you’re supposed to study journalism at the same school, and the long distance would cease to exist. You were supposed to be happy. “But it’s gonna be okay, right? You’ve fought it before, you can do it again.” Perhaps it was a bit selfish of him to ask for consolation when you were the one with the illness. But you were a journalist, never a liar. Your voice is weak, like you’ve already given up.

“I don’t know.”

-

“What’s up with you?” Chenle’s voice is almost worried, but Jisung wouldn’t be able to tell because his eyes are focused on the ground. He’s been kicking a soccer ball around with Chenle and Mark for a while now, but there’s clearly something very off about the teenager today.

“Yeah, is something wrong?” Mark asks.

Jisung blows some air into his cheeks. Should he tell them? It’s your private information but technically, you’re his girlfriend right? The news has been troubling him for a few days now, and he’s had no one to talk to. Surely, he can’t talk to his sister about it. 

He should just spit it out. “(Name) has cancer.”

It’s like the world stops, his friends taking in his words. “W-What? What did you just say?” Chenle speaks first, then Mark quickly follows. “Did you say (Name) has cancer?”

Keeping his gaze on the ground, Jisung nods and gives the ball a small kick in Mark’s direction. “Yeah. She had leukemia when she was younger, and… the other day she went to the hospital and they said that it came back. Her cancer came back.” When he looks up, both his friends are looking at him with genuine concern etched across their faces. 

“Seriously? Cancer? And you’re still dating her?” Mark asks, causing Jisung to raise an eyebrow in confusion. Did he just insinuate what he thinks he did?

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

Chenle speaks up next, trying to defuse the sudden tension. “Jisung, you guys have only been dating like, a couple months. It was just like yesterday that you kicked her in the head asking her out!” 

“And?” Jisung asks pointedly. Suddenly he’s in front of Chenle, and though he technically towers over the latter in height, Chenle’s chest is straight as he makes his point.

“Is it really worth it to stay on a sinking ship?”

Jisung’s voice reaches a new level of low, erupting from a place deep inside of him that he’s hidden away. It’s a place of rage, of anger sizzling and bubbling in his stomach. Suddenly they’re both chest to chest, unwilling to back down. “Now, I know you’re not talking about my girlfriend.” 

“Hey, hey, hey!” Mark interrupts, hands coming between them to tear the two boys apart. “Calm down. Both of you.”

“He started it,” accuses Jisung quickly, dark eyebrows furrowed in frustration. “My girlfriend is not a sinking ship. Neither is my relationship, and I don’t need you to comment on it.” He looks to Mark for guidance. Mark had always been the most logical one, the one he would look to for help, and though he thinks that Mark will agree with him, he almost looks guilty.

“But it’s true, Jisung. We’re worried about you. She’s just a girl. Is she really worth hurting yourself over?” He had trusted Mark to be on his side, but now Jisung just releases a scoff. He had been hoping for his friends’ support, but it seems like he’ll be going through this alone, then.

-

You’ve been avoiding him.

Of course, there’s not much that can be done to avoid him when you live hours away from each other. But you haven’t been responding to his texts, and when you do, they’re mostly short and taut. You’ve been cutting your phone calls short, often saying that you’re tired. Maybe you really are, but it hurts hearing the line cut off, not knowing how you’re really feeling.

Jisung can’t help but feel like he’s failing. He should be doing better.

It’s like your relationship is an hourglass, running out of time with every day that he spends going to school, work, or soccer practice. Like you’re getting further and further away with each short text message.

His entire life has been spent running. Speeding forward center field like a lightning bolt, long legs carrying him far ahead everyone else. But for the first time, Jisung feels like he’s falling behind.

-

It only takes a three hour bus ride (four, with the added stops) but in Jisung’s mind, it’s all worth it. It won’t be the first time he’s gone over to your house, but it is indeed the first he’s ever showed up unannounced, which is a strange appearance given that he lives three hours away. But with everything happening, he’s willing to give up the day and six hours worth of travel for you.

Sitting on the bus, he pulls out his phone. It’s early, like nine in the morning, but he knows you have a doctor’s appointment in a few hours so you’re definitely awake. He presses the facetime button, but you quickly reject his call. His eyebrows furrow, but lighten with an incoming text from you.

[ message from : (Name) ♡ ] : jisung, i’m using the bathroom rn. call you back in a bit.

He nearly rolls his eyes, but it’s a sweet one. You’re always so candid.

[ message to : (Name) ♡ ] : you act like you’ve never facetimed me on the toilet before.

[ message from : (Name) ♡ ] : wow, call me out more why don’t you

[ message to : (Name) ♡ ] : pick up my call, brat ♡

[ message from : (Name) ♡ ] : no, You pick up My call :p

Seconds later, his phone is lit up with an incoming facetime screen. A laugh almost leaves him at your tenacity before accepting the call.

The call opens up to the visual of his girlfriend, you in your PJs fixing the phone up against the mirror in the bathroom. He sees himself reflected in the mini screen, hoodie on and earbuds in wearing a boyish grin. “Hey pretty girl. Make sure you wash your hands.”

You roll your eyes at his remarks. “Hey ugly boy. I’m already doing that. What are you doing?”

“Just making sure, because I don’t think you brushed your teeth after you fell asleep on call the other night,” he teases, clicking his tongue as you’re the only person he can tease so easily. “I’m on the bus to practice.” A lie, but a white one at that. “What are you up to?”

You wack your still dry toothbrush in front of the camera, nose scrunching up in the slightest. It’s a habit of his that you’ve picked up. “I’m also doing that right now.” You wet the brush, putting some toothpaste on it. “I thought you didn’t have practice this Friday? Or was that next Friday?”

Your actions bring a low laugh to his lips, and his eyes momentarily focus on the passing landscape outside the bus window as he’s now three hours out of his normal perimeter. “Uh, Coach wanted to add in a practice today. Don’t you have a doctor’s appointment today?”

You nod at his answer, toothbrush in mouth. “I do, I think it’s like, in a hour or something.”

“Oh, okay,” he replies simply as the bus comes to a stop, your house only a short walk away. He stands, gathering his bag. “Gotta go, but I’ll talk to you in a bit, pumpkin honeysuckle,” he snorts, making his way to the front of the bus. 

Your brows furrow as you give him a disapproving look through the screen, shaking your head slightly before moving to rinse your mouth. “Talk to you soon, don’t get hurt at practice or I’ll fight you.”

He scoffs as he steps out of the bus, into your neighborhood. “Like you could take me. Later.” You probably could, given your determination, but he gives you a nose scrunch before ending the call. He’s only taken a few steps when his phone rings with a text message.

[ message from : (Name) ♡ ] : you and i both know i could take you :)

A snort leaves him. Classic (Name).

When he arrives a few minutes later, he hesitates at the door, only praying that the person who opens up is you, not your parents or god forbid, your brother. It only takes a few hard knocks before he hears your voice on the other side, determined to see just who the hell had the nerve to interrupt your laziness this early in the morning. “Who the fu—”

He tsk’s in distaste. He shouldn’t have been surprised that the first words to leave his girlfriend’s mouth are cuss words. “You potty mouth. I thought you’d be happy to see me,” he says, opening his arms.

Jisung’s not quite sure what he expected. For you to jump in his arms? What a delusional boy. You blink for a few seconds, then suddenly you’re throwing yourself at him, fist first to land a deserved punch to his arm. “I thought you had practice? What are you doing here and why do you look so much cuter than when I last saw you?” 

“Well, I lied,” he snickers, patting your head. “I’m here to annoy you, obviously. But you look too. For a—” A person dying of cancer, but he can’t say it. He won’t. “—person who barely got up twenty minutes ago.”

Your hand immediately begins rubbing the spot that your fist landed, worried that it might actually bruise in a bit. Jisung asks, “So are you gonna invite me in, or?”

“What are you, a vampire or something? I’m pretty sure you weren’t given permission when you entered my heart so just come in and cuddle me before my appointment.” 

Your response catches him off guard so he blinks before entering in silently, sticking his hands back into the loose fitting pocket of his hoodie. Even after six months, he’s still not used to you saying those kinds of things. Hell, he still gets sweaty holding your hand.

“Hey Mom! Dad!” You’re grabbing onto his arm, tugging him into the kitchen. “Jisung’s here!”

-

After a small breakfast and conversation with your parents, he’s given the permission to go with you to your doctor’s appointment. The two of you take the bus, hands interlaced as you sit, and Jisung smiles awkwardly when an elderly woman compliments the two of you, calling you a cute couple. 

He’s never really been in a hospital before. 

For an arduous soccer player, he’s lucky enough to never have suffered a pain great enough to warrant a visit to the hospital, nor had he ever been sickly enough to send him there. It’s for that reason that he feels slightly out of place, tucked in his hoodie whilst trying his best not to gaze at the others in the waiting room. Instead, he tries to keep his gaze focused upon his girlfriend as you remain bright despite their surroundings. Your hands intertwined, he feels a comfortable warmth seeping into his veins, gold in color and feeling. Gold like the ring on your finger, and like your heart. 

He’s so lucky to have you.

“I don’t really have anything planned,” he says softly, giving your hand a slight squeeze. It’s true that your itinerary is next to nonexistent for this impromptu date, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. If anything, a hospital is a strange starting destination for a date but your relationship is a bit strange. Quietly, he says to you, voice low in the hopes that no one overhears, “Don’t hospitals scare you?”

He knows that you spent a good portion of your time here; surely you must have grown accustomed to it, but Jisung was not. Hospitals were cold… white and bleak and much too quiet.

“Nah, not really,” you answer with a shake of your head. “Except for all the souls wandering around.”

Jisung blinks. “Souls?” He gulps.

“Yup. The souls of the passing.” You click your tongue, along with a wink in his direction now that you’ve successfully managed to creep him out. Do you ever stop making jokes?

The door to the waiting room opens and a medical assistant calls your name. “Hey, I’ll be right back,” you tell him, standing and releasing his arm. He gives a hesitant nod, watching as you leave through the door and disappear down the hall. 

When you emerge, some forty-five minutes later, the mirth is gone from your eyes.

He knows right away: you didn’t get good news. His heart is pumping in his chest, like he’s waiting for you to collapse right there. Years could pass, and Jisung swears he’d never be able to erase that memory of you. “Are you—” Okay, he wants to ask. But you just give him a small smile and shake your head. It’s not the time. He cuts himself short, reaching a hand out to you with a small, albeit forced, smile. “Let’s go on our date.”

-

It’s a long afternoon, spent in the arcade where you had had your first date—this time, for memory’s sake, he gets another ring from the claw machine—then McDonald’s and ice cream. He treats you to lunch, courtesy of his employee discount, and the entire day is filled with laughter and mutual teasing. Everything feels like it’s okay again. 

Jisung enjoys these moments the most.

The moments where he doesn’t feel like he has to be anybody: not the star soccer player, not the kind understanding younger brother, or a kid trying to look grown up at an adult party. With him he’s just you, awkwardness and quirks altogether. You’ve never hid yourself from him, and now he doesn’t have to hide himself either.

Now that the day is touching evening, the two of you sit at a park, relaxing mindlessly on the swings next to each other. Now that the romantic buzz is gone, the two of you have fallen into a comfortable silence.

“Thanks for coming this far, Ji. This was… nice.”

A small smile spreads over his lips. “It was nothing. I wanted to do it for a long time.”

“No, really,” you say, turning to him with a thankful smile. Your eyes are serious now, and Jisung feels the sunlight seep into his skin. “I really missed you.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. This moment feels heavy, like he’ll remember it for years to come. “... I missed you too. A lot.” You both turn back to face the sunset, watching the sun fade behind a hill. It’s setting, streaks of gentle reds and soft-spoken oranges staining the empyrean firmament. It’s then that Jisung feels his heart begin to sink, like the sun, into the pit of his stomach.

“Are you scared?”

A moment passes without you saying anything, then you speak up beside him. “Not really. I mean, it’s just the hospital. The only thing that’ll suck is not being able to leave. I never thought I’d say it but, I’m really gonna miss going to school.”

Did you think you were never going to return? “Are your chances good?”

The implications from earlier at the hospital return. What are the chances that things aren’t looking up? “They say so,” you breath out.

That’s not good enough. Anything could happen. Jisung needs clarification, confirmation. He doesn’t want to lose you. “What if you—”

“I might.”

A beat of silence.

Jisung feels like crying. It gathers in the back of his throat. “What would I do without you?”

There it is: the implication that you’ll be gone. That one day, Jisung will have to wake up and face a world without you in it, a world with less happiness and less passion. A world where there isn’t someone who will call him ugly when really they think he’s the cutest to walk to the earth, or where there isn’t someone to make fun of him the way you do. A world with less love. 

Your voice is dry as you speak. 

“You’d move on.”

“I don’t know if I’d ever love anyone like you,” he finds himself saying. 

“L-Love?” You suddenly say, voice the smallest he’s ever heard. You’ve always had the loudest voice, most prominent in his brain, but his words seem to have caught you off guard. “Do you? Love me?” 

He doesn’t know what love feels like. He’s just a teenager, what is he supposed to know about love? About loss? Is it all-consuming, like in the movies? Is it meant to hurt? “... I think I do. I think I love you.”

There’s a sniffle next to him, and he turns immediately, alarmed that he may have made you cry. There are tears in your eyes, but they don’t fall. Being a writer, you talk too much. Your words are eloquent and true, though sometimes Jisung has a hard time getting you to stop talking. But this time, you choose to abandon words altogether, instead leaving your swing to stand in front of him. Compelled by nature, he stands too. Instead of speaking, you reach upward on your tiptoes once more. Except this time, you kiss him. 

Your lips meet, and everything is golden.

And against the backdrop of the setting sun, it feels like the closing scene of Jisung’s very own romance movie. But this isn’t the end, he knows.

-

When he walks you home, he offers his sweater again. 

This time not out of obligation or the desire to appear more romantic than he is, but because you’re cold. Really cold. You’re shivering, arms wrapped around yourself not giving enough warmth.

“Here,” Jisung says, already beginning to take off his hoodie, but you stop him with a hand and a pointed look, though your chattering teeth cause you to stutter. “S-Still trying to woo me with cheap rom-com tricks?”

You’re stubborn. You’re so stubborn and he hates it.

“Just take it,” he says, pushing it into your arms. 

“No,” you argue. “You have a three hour ride home, it’s late and you’ll be cold.”

It’s obvious your illness has made you even more sensitive to the cold, and for that reason, Jisung’s fine facing the biting cold as long as you’re okay. “You’re freezing, please just take it.”

“Jisung, I said no.” Your voice is stern now, and he gets the feeling that he’s upset you. He gives up, gnawing on his bottom lip in deep thought. He just wants to make you feel better, doing what he thinks will help but with you, it never does. You’re so independent, too much so and much too stubborn to admit you need his help… “Fine,” he says before putting his hoodie back on. If you won’t take his warmth, then he’ll give it to you. 

He lifts his arm, placing it fully around your shoulders and pulling you to him so your bodies meet. “At least let me hold you,” he mumbles. Your frame freezes in his for a moment, until you wrap your arms around the circumference of his chest. 

Burying your face into his side, you relent into him. “Okay, fine.”

And later, he finds that you’re right. When he sits alone on the dimly lit train, he realizes that the warmth he had been feeling earlier, bathing in the sun’s rays with your lips, is long gone. All he feels now, is cold.

-

“You skipped practice the other day.” Jisung looks up from where he had been sitting on the bleachers, tying his shoes after practice. It had been a tough practice; he had missed quite a few passes and whiffed more than just a couple shots. He can only blame himself. He’s been distracted; alongside his worries about you, he also has a job to attend to and even more, the results for his dream school’s soccer scholarship is supposed to come out soon. His gaze falls on all six of his closest friends, looking down at him. 

“Yeah, something came up,” he says easily.

“More like, someone,” retorts Donghyuck easily. “We know you ditched to go see your girlfriend.”

“And what about it?”

“I don’t know what’s happened to you, man. You never want to play ball with us anymore, you don’t want to hang out with us. Whenever you invite you to a party, you raincheck. It’s like I don’t even know you anymore,” Chenle spits out, arms crossed over his chest.

“Chenle,” says Renjun carefully.

“No,” interrupts the boy in question. Chenle looks straight at Jisung, who stands now to meet the others’ heights. “He needs to hear this. Ever since that girl came around, it’s like you’ve lost your way. You used to be all about soccer and friendship. Now you always have her on your mind, and—did you see the way you played earlier?—she’s messing you up. Your head’s not on straight.”

“Chenle, stop.” Donghyuck speaks up now, voice low as he tries to stop the younger from going off. “You’re not the same Jisung I met in peewee camp, and I don’t know if I like who I’m seeing,” Chenle finishes. 

That’s enough for him. His voice comes out before he can stop it.

“You know why I never party with you anymore?” Jisung suddenly says, voice booming and clearly at his limit. “Because I’ve always hated partying. Because I have a job now, and because I don’t want my sister to stay up worrying about me while I’m getting piss drunk. I hate drinking, I hate trying to look cool while actually looking fucking stupid, because I don’t know how I can even think about partying when my girlfriend is fucking dying.” 

A hearty scoff leaves his lips, as though he can’t even fathom the words he’s faced today. “You don’t even know me anymore? That’s where you’re wrong, because you never knew me. Not all of me. You only see me as the star player who’s gonna get you your win. She knows me, she knows all of me, and she doesn’t try to change me. Well, sorry that I’m not the same kid you met years ago who let everyone walk all over him. I thought you guys were my friends, but clearly you only want me around for as long as I can play.”

Those are the last fiery words to leave Jisung’s mouth before he turns on his heels, storming off the field and away from everyone else. He just needs to get out of here, away from everything before he ruins it. Mark and Hyuck follow after him, while Jeno and the rest hold Chenle back. 

“Don’t listen to him,” Mark says, ever level headed. “We know what you’re going through.”

Though he appreciates their concern, Jisung spits, “No, you don’t.”

Both of them stop walking, no longer chasing after him as Jisung pulls out his phone. 

A new email.

He immediately opens it, eyes glazing over the text.

Dear Jisung Park,

Thank you for applying to our university’s soccer scholarship. We reviewed every application with our utmost dedication and attention. Unfortunately, we regret to inform you that we cannot accept your application at this time. Our soccer program is one of the most competitive at this school, however we encourage you to reapp… 

What a load of shit. 

-

The past few weeks have been horrid. 

Soccer is as tense as ever, though Jisung would be lying if he said that his fight with Chenle didn’t fuel him to work even harder during practice. His job sucks, especially after someone spilled a bucket of old oil on him (it was cold, thank goodness but still gross nonetheless). So far he’s gotten another rejection. Who knew that getting into college would be this hard?

He wishes that he could say his relationship with you is the saving grace, but it’s really not. You’re in the hospital now, and the two of you have been talking less and less. Even now with his feud between his friends, he feels even more alone. Today when he calls, you sound even more tired than usual. 

“Hey, chocolate honeycomb bunny,” Jisung says, giving his absolute worst at giving a cringe-worthy nickname. It seems you’re too tired to even give a repulsed response. 

“Hey.” You’re quiet for a moment, only your breathing heard across the line. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much,” sighs Jisung, running a hand through his dark locks. “Just exhausted. My coworker is getting on my last nerve.”

“The same one you talked about last week?”

“Who spilled the dirty oil on me? Yeah,” he responds with a roll of his eyes. “We’ve both been working the same amount of time, I just want to know why he’s so slow to pick it up.”

It’s characteristic of you to agree, seeing as complaining is one of your favorite past times. But you don’t, voice only coming out softly across the call, “Maybe just give him some time.” 

“Yeah, I don’t know,” he sighs. “How about you? Are you feeling better?”

“About the same,” you respond truthfully. God, you sound so tired. He almost feels bad for making you talk to him when you clearly sound exhausted. “Any more results?” You ask, regarding his college acceptances.

“No,” he shakes his head. He doesn’t understand. He’s a good student, he’s done community service. Just what more do they want from him? “You said I was special, but I don’t think the colleges see that.” 

He can almost see your small smile in his mind. “You are special. Just ‘cause they don’t see it doesn’t you aren’t.”

“Eh, I don’t know,” Jisung says, playing with a loose thread on his bedsheet. 

What you say next catches him off guard. “Maybe we can both be college-less, together.”

“What?” He asks, brows tightening in confusion. “Didn’t you get into the journalism program at that one university?” He’s caught you. You’re silent on the line for a few long seconds, but the quiet is deafening for him.

“I did, but Jisung, I…” You hesitate. “I’m not going.”

“What do you mean you’re not going?” He asks.

“I… I don’t know if I want to.” In a small voice, you continue, “I don’t know that I’ll make it that long.” What are you saying? What are you implying? Heart racing, Jisung tries to decipher these words in his mind. To him, it just sounds like the end.

“You’re giving up already, I hear it in your voice.”

“I’m not,” you say, a broken promise. “I just… want to be prepared for the worst.”

“The worst isn’t coming. You’re going to get through this. You’re going to beat it. I know you are.” It becomes blatantly clear in this moment that the person Jisung is trying to convince, is himself. 

His pleas fall upon deaf ears, because you argue back in what seems like the strongest voice you’ve made in months. As though you’ve amassed all your remaining energy for this conversation. “I’m not a hero, Jisung. I’m not cut out for this. The doctors said it’s not looking good.” 

“Then prove them wrong. You’re gonna beat it.” 

“I don’t want to be the underdog either, Ji. You know I hate them.” What you say next has his blood boiling. “I don’t deserve it anyways, no one would want me to come back.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Jisung raises his voice now, volume growing with each word.

“No one likes me,” you spit out across the line, and he doesn’t need to see you to imagine how incensed you are at the moment. “I’m rude, I’m loud, I cross boundaries and I say things that hurt without caring about who it touches. And before you yell at me that no one thinks of me like that, these are things I’ve heard from other people.” Your voice breaks, as does Jisung’s heart. “If this were a movie, no one would root for me to survive.” 

“I do,” Jisung says, voice strong. “I’m rooting for you. Every. Single. Day. And who cares about how other people see you? You’re rude? You’re crass? I like you because of those things, because you’re different from me. Am I not enough?”

“You’re different,” you relent, voice tired. “You’re the only one who matters. But I—“ You choke up. “I’m just tired of fighting. I don’t want to go to sleep every night not knowing if I’ll wake up the next morning. I want to be strong, and I want to face every day knowing that it could be my last… I don’t want to leave anything behind—”

“You’re not leaving,” he cuts in.

“—and I can’t go through every day letting you think that everything is okay, because they’re not. But I’m ready to let go, Ji. Because I’m happy with what I had, with what we had, and I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”

Tears are falling down his cheeks now, suiciding off the surface of his face and staining his bed sheets. He doesn’t know if the tears are the result of sadness, anger, or the pain of loving someone the universe would never let him have, yet it hurts all the same. “But I love you! I told you that I loved you.”

“I love you too,” you cry, and the sound is heartbreaking. “But I just wish that were enough.”

A pregnant silence consumes both of you. All that can be heard is the sound of your mutual crying, along with your breathing that Jisung had learned to fall asleep to. When you speak again, your voice is steady. You had always been the stronger one. “I don’t think you should call anymore.” A few sniffles. He can’t even speak. “Goodbye, Jisung.”

Then the line dies.

-

It’s Christmastime. He knows it’s cold, probably even colder in the hospital where you are.

Now, Jisung knows you don’t want anything from him. You don’t want him around. In the past weeks he must have become someone even he wouldn’t want around. And though he gets the feeling that you’ll never need him again, he figures you could use a sweater. It’s nothing much, and really he thinks it could be better. 

A hoodie, not fit to your size but slightly larger because he knew you well enough to know you’d like it like that. On one sleeve, near the wrist, a patch of a soccer ball. He had learned how to sew it on himself. On the other, his initials. JS.

He sends it in the mail, in a box to the hospital with your name and room number on it. There’s no letter, nothing. Just his bare soul in the form of an oversized cotton hoodie. He’d send it himself, appearing at the door to your hospital bed, but something tells him he’s run out of things to say.

-

His phone rings at three in the morning. 

He knows what it means.

February 2nd, at 2:39AM. The world lost you. 

It would never be the same again, and neither would he.

-

Grief is an interesting thing, someone once told him. 

He doesn’t quite remember who it was, whether it was his sister comforting him after the death of their goldfish, the guidance counselor at his school giving him a required appointment after the passing of a student, or yourself. But as the hours go by, it feels more and more like a weight in his chest that has been sitting on a hollowed place in his heart. 

Grief is indescribable, and Jisung doesn’t know if this is because his limited seventeen year old vocabulary hasn’t collected enough fitting words to even begin to verbalize his emotions, or if because it really is indescribable. 

The first few days had been hell. 

He had almost become someone that he didn’t know, barely stepping out of bed and perhaps worrying his sister out of her mind. It was his way of ignoring the world, dissociating himself from the irrefutable truth that you weren’t really gone. You were still laying in bed, three hours away as usual, struggling but still fighting. If he could lay in bed, sleeping the days away and ignoring his text message condolences from his friends, he could pretend for some time that things were the way they were, eight months ago. 

Eight months before it.

Eight months before he lost you. Before your relationship, a burgeoning dandelion in the nook of spring. But dandelions represent rebirth, the reappearance of hope like a beacon after an arduous winter, and you would never have another spring. 

He could not pretend, because every morning the sun rose again, and he would have to reach his head out from the burrow of blankets he had buried himself in. He would need to face it for himself that he woke up, and you didn’t. His friends texted. His sister knocked on his door and begged him to eat, even going as far as to cook his favorite foods as a means to lure him from the darkness of his corner. He ate. But it was never the same. 

Messy bedheads, earbuds tucked in with muzak playing gently like the thrum of his heart which beat enough for the both of you, tear-stained pillow cases, knees to the chest, light failing to shine in through the blinds which remained closed, counting the seconds between each breath, dreaming insubordinate dreams. 

The first few days went like that. Empty.

Then he was angry.

Angry because the world had given him a love worth changing for, then ripped it from his inexperienced hands. He had never had anything in his life! Not a mother, not a father. Could he not have this one lily, this flower which sought to remind him of the fragility of life? And even more so, he was angry for you. You were a fire—you were a bottle of passion bursting at the seams, a well of untapped potential, a boldness which no one else could emulate—and the universe crushed you beneath its foot. 

And suddenly, the emptiness of your hollow space reflected upon him.

He should have been better, should have done more. A soccer ball proposition? A sweater? It was laughable; that was the least he could give? If only he had called, if only he hadn’t listened to you like the meek child he was, things could be better. 

And above all, he was sad. 

What would he do without you?

Moving on seemed useless. A light at the end of a dark tunnel which stretched for ages. An epiphany that you would never reach. 

He just hoped that it was not cold. That you left the world in a ball of light, surrounded in the warmth of family and love, not the rigidness of the unforgiving world. Perhaps it was selfish of him, but he hoped that the soccer ball sleeve had been clutched to your chest, and that his hoodie could have provided just a little bit of that warmth. 

-

The walking pattern outside his bedroom door is different from his sister’s. So is the knock on the door; his older sister’s is much more quiet, reserved, as though she was afraid to wake him. This one is harsh, and it reverberates through the room before the door opens.

The air in the room is still for a moment.

“Jisung.” 

It’s Chenle. And Mark, Renjun, Jeno, Donghyuck, as well as Jaemin. They all take their seats either on the end of his bed, the floor, or his beanbag, but Jisung doesn’t move from his place underneath the blankets. 

“What do you want?” He manages to groan out in a small voice.

Someone places a hand on his leg, a comforting gesture. He thinks it’s Jaemin from the gentle touch. “We’re here for you.”

Donghyuck comments, “You haven’t been to practice this week.” Of course that would be what they would mention first. Jisung scoffs. “I’m kind of going through something.”

“And we’re here.” Mark’s voice.

“We wanted to apologize.” Chenle speaks now, and despite being best friends since they were five, he’s the last person Jisung expected to say sorry. In their decade-long friendship, Chenle was the confident one, the one who charged forward without consequence while Jisung trailed behind, cleaning up his mess. “We’ve been… assholes, simply put.” Had he been in higher spirits, Jisung would have snorted. “We thought we understood what you were going through, and we thought it was dumb. To let yourself get hurt over some random girl… but we were wrong. We didn’t understand your point of view.”

“Not even a little bit,” says Donghyuck, head hanging low. 

“Yeah, we’re supposed to be your friends. Your team! We’re supposed to lift you up when you’re down and… well, we haven’t been doing that. And we’re sorry. I’m sorry.” Chenle says. Slowly, Jisung lifts his head from below the blanket to face his friends. They all wear a variety of expressions, all somber. “And we know now… she’s not just some random girl.”

Yeah, they’ve all been assholes, some more than others, and Jisung can’t exactly say that they were any help in his struggle. But perhaps this was something he needed to go through alone. At the time, he needed you. But now… he just really needs his best friends. 

Tears sting at his eyes for the nth time. 

“Come here, you crybaby,” says Jaemin, opening his arms.

-

It’s Monday, meaning he has to go back to school today. He’s not ready, how could he be? It hasn’t even been a week since you… left, but he knows he has to go back. His sister, God bless her, had let him take the first few days off but now that the weekend has ended and school has rolled back around, he has no choice.

“You look like shit.”

Donghyuck has always lacked a filter. It would hurt if Jisung didn’t know that Donghyuck meant that in the best way possible. You look like shit, he says. So I’m glad you found it in you to come to school, is what he doesn’t say. 

Jisung closes his locker with a sigh. “Thanks.” 

“No problem,” snickers his friend, and Jisung turns his head to find Mark and Jaemin approaching. “Morning,” greets Jaemin as he taps the top of Jisung’s head, despite being shorter.

“Hi,” responds Jisung quietly, clutching his chemistry textbook to his chest. The three of them look at him with quiet and somber eyes, but don’t say anything. Mark places a comforting hand on his shoulder, giving it a small rub.

“You got this.” 

The truth is, he can’t do this. The world feels quiet and empty, lacking a particular passion that you used to always embody. It could be worse. Thank goodness your relationship was rather private; he doesn’t know how he’d be able to function at school had there been curious eyes on him, if you had gone to the same school as him. 

The day goes rather slowly, and Jisung busies himself with catching up on his work that he had missed. He could almost pretend like things are normal. It’s not until fifth period calculus that something strange happens. 

An office TA pokes her head in and scrambles over to the teacher, who was in the midst of a very enthralling lecture on integrals that Jisung was definitely not paying great attention to. The TA whispers something into the teacher’s ear, then hands her a piece of paper. Mrs. Huang nods, then suddenly Jisung finds her eyes on him. “Jisung, Mr. Moon wants you in his office.” 

Him? Why him of all people?

Mr. Moon is the guidance counselor at their school, and Jisung has a moment of internal panic—had he somehow found out about you? Should he prepare himself for a lecture about grief and moving on? 

With a gulp, he nods. 

Mr. Moon is a fairly nice man, with a friendly smile and a reputation for being a pushover teacher. Jisung had met with him a few months ago to discuss his desire to pursue a soccer scholarship but he highly doubts that’s the case now.

When Jisung enters Mr. Moon’s office, the first thing he sees isn’t Mr. Moon but a tall man with a stoic expression standing behind his desk. In contrast to the stranger, Mr. Moon wears his trademark smile. “Jisung, good to see you. Still getting a kick out of that old ball?” 

Of course, Mr. Moon doesn’t know that Jisung skipped practice all last week to mope in his bed, but Jisung nods politely. “Yes, sir.”

“Good,” responds the teacher with a smile. “Take a seat.”

He gestures to the chair in front of his desk, and cautiously does Jisung take a seat. The tall, bruff man is still standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, having not yet said a single word. Somehow the atmosphere is tense, and Jisung’s quite sure he knows what this is about. 

“Now, Jisung, I’ve called you in today because—”

“Is this about (Name)?” Perhaps it’s a bit rude of him, but Jisung doesn’t want to be prodded at, at least not by people who think they know him. The last thing he wants is pity. 

Mr. Moon’s eyebrow raises just the slightest, and he leans forward on his desk. “Why, yes, it is. How did you know?”

A scoff leaves Jisung’s lips, but it’s much weaker than he would like. “My question is, how did you know? Who told you?” Who was it that shared information on his personal life? Was it his sister? His friends? 

“Nobody had to tell me, Jisung. (Name) sent the letter to me herself.”

Wait… what? 

Jisung blinks, hands falling slack on his lap. “W-What? What letter?”

Perhaps his staring is a bit too obvious, for Mr. Moon gestures to the stranger in question with a hand. “Jisung, this is Johnny Seo.” Finally, the intimidating stranger has a name. “Johnny is the head coach of the soccer team at Greenwood University—” Wait, Greenwood University? That’s Jisung’s dream school—well, it was his dream school, until they rejected his application for a soccer scholarship. What would they want to do with him? “—and he wants to offer you a full-ride scholarship.”

What? 

Jisung’s mouth falls open. What? What the hell? Hadn’t they just rejected him three months ago? His eyes must be bugging out of his face, so he blinks repeatedly, trying to find the words to say. 

“W-Wait, what? A… A full ride?” He stammers, unable to find his tongue.

The man named Johnny only nods. “Full ride. Covered tuition, dorming, and soccer costs. All you have to do is keep your grades up and keep scoring those fancy goals of yours I’ve heard about.”

“But—But, you rejected me… why now?” 

For the first time, Johnny gives a small smile. “Because of the letter.” There it is, that letter again that Jisung has no idea about. He looks to Mr. Moon for guidance. All the counselor does is open his desk drawer and pull out an envelope, which he slides across his desk. “(Name) (Last Name) wrote a recommendation letter to the university, and honestly, it was stunning. It was enough to make the admissions board… bend a little, to say the least.” 

Reaching forward, Jisung grabs the envelope and examines it in his hands. It’s opened, but yes, on the front is your handwriting. He’s cried so much this past week that he doesn’t know how many times tears have touched his eyes, but they sting once more. This time, he doesn’t let them fall. 

“She… wrote a letter. For me?” 

“That she did,” responds Mr. Moon. 

“She’s right,” says Johnny suddenly. “In our work at the university, we’re always looking for the best of the best. We should look deeper, sometimes.” The words sink in the room, and Jisung finds himself staring down at the envelope in his hands. What things had you had to say about him?

Honestly, all he can think about is his failure. How he failed to be there for you, how he cowarded in your presence when you told him to leave you alone. He bites down on his lip. 

“So? Will you accept our offer?” 

Jisung looks up again, meeting Johnny’s expectant eyes. “I…” His mouth suddenly runs dry. “I don’t know, I… I need to think about it.”

“You’re not graduating for another four months. Take your time.” Slowly, still in glassy-eyed disbelief, Jisung nods. His fingers find the edge of the envelope, tracing its pointed edge. You wrote that for him. From across the desk, Mr. Moon speaks up. “You should read that letter, Jisung, and realize what’s coming for you: good things.” 

-

To Whom It May Concern,

Hello. My name is (Name) (Last Name), and I am a high school student writing this letter to appeal a rejection by your university. Not of my own application, but of an extraordinary person with the name Jisung Park. In my humble opinion, I believe that your institution has made a grave mistake in not offering a scholarship to Jisung. So, I write this letter to appeal such a rejection, and to do something that he hated, though it was what I always did best: write about Jisung. 

Now, Jisung is a humble person who never speaks up about his struggles, but the truth is that of all students, I believe he is the most in need of this scholarship. His parents passed when he was young, and he grew up in the care of his older sister who raised him. Their small but strong family made sacrifices, gave up luxuries, and endeavored to survive. 

In the midst of this crisis, Jisung found his one savior: soccer. 

He is, without a doubt, the best soccer player I have ever seen in my entire life. He can sprint across the field in half a normal player’s time, and I’ve never seen him miss a goal or a pass. But his soccer prowess isn’t what makes him great. Moreover, Jisung is the person you want on a team. He believes in teamwork, but is always striving to be better. He doesn’t want to stand out, but does so anyways. He is never arrogant, nor boastful. If there is one person who deserves this, it’s him.

But, I am sure that you are thinking: why should this letter mean anything to you? I’m not a highly valued individual in the community, nor have I done anything significant for my name to mean anything. I’m only a seventeen year old student, a struggling journalist. 

The answer to that question is, I know Jisung Park. You only see his grades, the shallow things on his application. You will never get to see the Jisung Park that I knew and loved. 

In my time alive, Jisung Park made an impact on my life that will never be forgotten. Even when life seemed the darkest, not a beam of light in the field's view, Jisung picked me up and made me see the sunset. I know now, the sunset is beautiful, warm, and comforting—everything that Jisung is. He never left my side, and never for a single moment did I ever feel alone in his presence. The world often overplays the saying “a heart of gold,” but the truth is that Jisung has one.

I used to think that love would be red, like the burning of one’s lungs racing down a soccer field, or black and white, made to be simple. But the truth is, love is golden. Golden like the sunset painting streaks against the floor, golden like Jisung. It’s a warmth that covers you from head to toe, relenting into a future that you don’t know. 

He is my golden boy, and he can be yours too. 

I may not have a future, but if there’s one thing that I know, it’s that Jisung deserves one. 

I’m a journalist. I don’t write love letters, but perhaps this is the closest I can ever get. And should Jisung ever read this letter, I hope he knows that with this, I dedicated my last spark of sunlight to him. 

Sincerely,

(Name) (Last Name)

-

Your funeral occurs on February 13th, a week and four days after your passing. 

Jisung stands in front of the bathroom mirror, nose scrunched in concentration as he makes a feeble attempt on his necktie. This is surely not as easy as throwing on a soccer jersey. “Ugh,” he groans, fingers getting confused again.

“Need help?”

His sister’s dainty voice calls him from the bathroom door. Dressed in all black, she’s ready too. Turning his head, Jisung sighs. “Please.” She makes his way toward him, fingers coming to work on his tie already with steady hands. 

“You’re too tall now,” she says softly, with a chuckle. It’s true; he used to look up to her, physically and figuratively, but now he’s an entire head above her. “You’ve grown up a lot.” 

It was his eighteenth birthday just a few days ago but to be quite honest, he hadn’t had the heart to celebrate it. If anything, he had always thought that his eighteenth birthday would be like an epiphany for him. As though he would wake up the morning of, feeling like an adult with all the answers to the world.

The truth is, he’s eighteen now and he still feels like he has no idea what he’s doing. 

“I don’t feel any different,” he admits. “I thought eighteen would mean something.”

“You’ll get there, trust me. And anyways, I always told you not to grow up too fast.”

For a moment there’s a silence as his sister swoops the tie in and out, weaving it to form the perfect knot. Feeling something scratch at the back of his throat, Jisung speaks. “... I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for, silly? I was the one who never taught you how to knot a necktie,” she chuckles. 

“Not for that,” he says. “For last week. I… probably scared you.”

Suddenly, his sister is wearing that demure smile of hers again. The one that is small and polite, but always seems to carry more weight in it than he can see. “No. It’s okay, I knew you’d be better.” 

Naeun finally finishes the knot, tightening it the slightest around Jisung’s neck. “There you go.” He offers her a small thanks as he turns to look in the mirror, and she begins to leave. A sigh leaves him; there’s no avoiding it now, he’s ready to go.

“You know, Jisung,” she suddenly speaks up from the doorway. “I’m glad that you met her. Even if it ended up like this… you’re different. In a good way, and I think she had a lot to do with it. Even if you don’t feel different… you are.”

-

In the months of your relationship, Jisung had come to learn your insecurities. You were loud and proud, but with that confidence came an unwavering insecurity that you were unliked by those you spilled your tongue to. At the funeral, Jisung sees that that’s not at all true.

People give speeches for you, place flowers on your grave. The school newspaper had even written an article to commemorate your presence on their team, and the president of the club reads it aloud. A number of hospital staff make their appearance.

Even Jisung’s friends show up, despite the clear memory of them calling you crazy early on. Maybe they were right, maybe you were crazy. But he probably was too.

It doesn’t rain a single drop, though it had been pouring for three days before. Instead, the sun peeks through the overcast clouds, gifting sunshine. 

Jisung smiles. 

He probably looks like an idiot, carrying the soccer ball around the entire funeral but he knows what it means to him, and what it means to you. When he places it on your grave, the grass still fresh, his eyes catch the carefully written words on a singular white spot.

I love you. 

He knows that he means it. 

At eighteen, there a lot of things that Jisung still doesn’t know. But even so, there are a handful of truths that he can hold onto forever. One, he’s still an incredible soccer player and girls are still very scary. But like soccer, maybe that just takes time and practice. 

Two, growing up isn’t about a number. It’s not about partying or drinking, nor is it about rushing into relationships that have little meaning. For years Jisung had wanted to grow up, to face the world with no fears and be able to cruise through. But he knows now that growing up is about being strong in the face of sadness, pain, grief. About waking up every morning even if you feel like you have no reason to. 

Love is the same.

Love isn’t about making out on the bleachers after practice or trying to copy the coy clichés seen in romance movies. It’s about the sacrifices, like four hour bus rides. It’s about communication and connection, like a recommendation letter traced in gold. Because of you, he’s moving forward. He can go to college, and the day will never come when he stops being grateful toward you and everything you’ve done. That’s love, and he will spend the rest of his life loving you. Maybe the love will change but it will always be love. 

It hurts that you’re gone, it really does. Jisung doesn’t think it’ll ever stop hurting.

But the last thing he knows is that things will be okay.

Life moves on, and he will too. 

#neowritingsnet #dreamwritersnet #nct-writers #neohbh #neothestars #park jisung angst #jisung angst #jisung fluff #park jisung fluff #park jisung fanfic #jisung fanfic #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct angst #nct fluff #nct fanfic #nct dream fanfic

[almondmilks-posts]

Punz- plus size reader

You cannot fucking tell me this man does not like big bitches because don't... 😠😡

Also this man is so finneeee he's such a Chad but

- such a thigh guy

- one of his favourite things to do is sit between your thighs but his head away from you and your playing with his hair whilst he games

- hickey's everywhere on your body your insecure about

- shower time, he loovveeesss to shower with you

- and will wash every part of your body maybe even a lil 👀👀

-  I wanna wear his Nike grey shorts to sleeppp

- this man is obsessed with you and just wants to be around you holding you all the time.

- brags to everyone how pretty and hot you are because to him you are

- his chat legit love you and always want you on stream with him because you guys are couple goals

- someone once donated something mean about your weight and people in chat agreed  while you were not in his stream and he went berserk

- chat had never seen him so angry. You had never seen him so angry. He just lost all control at chat definitely logged off and stopped streaming for a few days.

- ofc he went straight to you and gave you lots of cuddles and kisses and sex to show how much he loves you.

- you sit between his legs on his chair but not on his legs and he's like sitting on your back (try visualise it)

- you guys took disgusting cute Instagram photos causing his feed to be filled up with you and him.

- he's the type of guy to play with your fat? But in a cute way

- like he likes to poke and grab and jiggle because he just likes to way it moves

- your so cute and adorable to him he goes super cringe and soft.

Nsfw-

- he would looovvveee it when you sat on his face. Like when you guys were having sex it was given you were using him like a seat have you seen this man's tounge I know you have don't lie.

- even if you were not having sex just you sitting on his face would be enough for him he would go at it for hours if you let him because he loves the feeling so got damn much.

- ok but imagine punz with a size kink? But Reverse... So he's into how much larger you are than him

- but he's still top and it makes him feel powerful

- punz spitting kink? ( Oh yes pls) he loves to see his spit roll down your body ugh he loves it

- maybe even cum? Like you guys would go multiple rounds just so he could see your body covered in his cum.

- took loads of sex videos and photos of you (with permission ofc) just so he could have a lil something when you were not around.

Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn. DamnDamn. Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn.

#punz x y/n #punz #punzop #mcyt smut #mcyt smp #punz x reader #punz x plus size reader #plus size

[bakubros-boo-thang]

Thirty seconds: Cameras & Caramel

Bakugou x ‘model’ reader

Warnings: cursing, sfw, mentioning of body type

Quirk: Stopping time ( limited time and limited amount of people)

Summary: When your roommate kinda pushes fate at your doorstep you end up in bed with Bakugou. That wouldn’t be so bad, except for the pervy director, the spotlights and the fact that you are definitely not used to model. Atleast you can make sure you get your 30 seconds of peace....

Art by : Chocalicia

Bakugou hated these types of things. He knew that being a hero on the rise meant that he had to grow his fanbase. He HAD to be known. He had to show up at random places, on billboards, in magazines and on tv. Not just for the live broadcastings if his fights, but also in random commercials.

He hated those commercials most. With magazines it was just a picture, a second of pretending. With commercials you had to pretend for longer. Professional models were at least professional about it, but those aspiring ones were trying so hard to get more out of the shoot than just a paycheck. They probably went into the shoot just for him. It would be a lie if he never ended up next to a stranger because of that. He had a busy schedule and sometimes he was touch starved. Those moments were the only moments his “work” and private life were combined. The rare private life he had.

You on the other hand had no idea what you were up to. You never wanted to be a model, so you weren’t. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. When searching for a “plus-sized” model in the middle of Tokyo you -a foreigner- stood out and when asked for a one time job, you had politely declined until your roommate had said: “You are here for that once in a lifetime moment, get out of your comfort zone, fuck the insecurities and experience that moment”. So here you were. Wearing a sleeveless top and black sleeping shorts. Laying in a fake bed, on a fake set, bright spotlight hurting you eyes and with a blanket only covering your ass and barely covering your boobs (which looked nude bc of the illusion). Since your friend pushed you to do this, she was the one who did all the talking. You just knew that you were supposed to lay like this, act shocked by your male counterpart and needed to smell his perfume. Something about “Comforting and sexy.” It was a stupid catchphrase. You had been living in Japan for a couple months, studying quirks.... you had only chosen that major, because of your own struggle with your quirk and had no real goal with the study, but the chance to finish up the course in Japan was something you couldn’t pass up. Since Japan was the country with the most development of quirks, it was the perfect choice. You worked a part-time job as a barista on the side and you couldn’t complain. But when you saw him you definitely wanted to complain. The first thing you noticed was the spiky blond hair, then his red piercing eyes and since you didn’t want him to catch you staring at his abs, you decided to use your quirks. The room was filled with eight people including the two of you so it wasn’t that difficult to do. And so you just paused everyone. You knew that you could only keep it up for thirty seconds at most, but in those seconds you could take a good look at him. At the bored expression he had, the way he was only wearing low hanging jeans and those rock-hard abs. You had barely fifteen seconds left to just readjust yourself one last time, trying to ignore your insecurities and give yourself the ultimate poker face, you laid in the position. Time went back on an nobody seemed to have noticed the missing seconds. Bakugou definitely looked slightly confused, which didn’t stop him from walking towards you and yelling to no one in particular: “Let’s get this shit over with, I have things to do.” He didn’t even acknowledge you. “Okay let’s get this thing right in the first take. Bakugou you just came home from a long patrol, you walk over to your s/o who is all curled up in bed and you give her a kiss on her cheek, she wakes up smelling your neck and realizes that you still smell like our cologne. She pulls you towards her and then it’s CUT, since we need to keep this safe for work right? We will film the solo clips of you after this scene. Ready? ACTION.”

Bakugou walked towards you. His face looked kind, maybe even loving in some cocky way though. Confidence was more the right word. You quickly close your eyes knowing you have to be ‘asleep’. 20 seconds later your eyes still haven't opened up, Bakugou was supposed to kiss you awake right? “DUMBASS WHY AREN’T YOU DOING YOUR DAMN JOB.” You couldn’t even respond, he scared you with the way he talked, of course you had heard of him. The hero with the terrible temper, but still experiencing it first-hand kinda sucked. “I... I... I didn’t....” The director cut you off. “CUT, let’s try it again.” Bakugou had already gone back to reshoot the scene. “ACTION.” He walked towards you again. This time you knew the camera would only focus on your face when he ‘kissed’ your cheeks, which he wasn’t planning on actually doing. You didn’t know whether it was him being respectful or him hating you, but it really annoyed you so you decided to give him a little payback. As he faked kissing your cheek you decided to use your quirk and pause only him. You didn’t touch his lips. You did however smell him. He didn’t smell like that disgusting cologne. He smelled like sweat and something burning. A light caramel smell. It was intoxicating. You had forgotten that you had only paused him, so the rest of the crew saw Bakugou standing over you with pouted lips not moving at all. When you realized that you were still pausing him, you quickly released the quirk and here he was all flustered, confused and definitely annoyed at himself for losing his cool. You felt a little guilty, but on the other side this was his payback. No one said anything about the rising hero’s pouted lips though, not wanting to trigger the hero’s anger. “Let’s just try it once more. Action.” Before Bakugou walked back to his starting point he whispered “ err... sorry for acting so creepy. I... I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” Now you DID feel horrible. You had to make sure this take worked out.

He walked over to you and actually kissed your cheek. You let go of all your insecurities, ‘Opened’ your eyes and you smiled at him with a smile full of love (mostly due to the fact that you were still intoxicated by his smell and of course his good looks, and maybe that apology did kinda make him seem... likeable), you once again smelled his neck which was far from punishment and the rest was just natural to you. Pushing your hands over to his neck and pulling him in felt amazing. Seeing him lay next to you felt even better and even he couldn’t help but to give you a tiny smile. Probably because you were radiating so much happiness. (Which was definitely not because you were such a good actor). “CUT. This was perfect, there is just one little thing I want to add, but give me two minutes before I explain. You can stay in your positions.” Bakugou looked at you. Just now noticing the way you looked naked. “Are you comfortable like that?” He asked. “Err... not really, but probably because this is my first time doing this.” He clicked his tongue “Tsk you’re not a model?” You shrugged “Nope just a regular barista who’s roommate forced her to end up in this weird commercial for err... cologne right?” Bakugou chuckled, “Yeah goddamn awful cologne.” You couldn’t help but agree. “They made me smell a tester, you definitely didn’t smell like that, fortunately.” He raised his eyebrow “How did I smell then, extra?” But his “extra” didn’t sound as threatening as it usually sounded in the fight videos on his Youtube page. It sounded more like a dare, but before you got the chance to explain the director already started explaining his new idea. “ I know we are not supposed to do anything not safe for work, but sex still sells, so we will just plant a seed.” He couldn’t help but give you a pervy look that made you feel sick to your stomach. “Only thing you two should do is end up under the covers, that's it. Action!” He continued.

“WHAT THE HELL, DO YOU EXPECT ME TO GO UNDER THE BLANKET WITH HER?!” Bakugou screamed. It wasn’t supposed to hurt. You barely knew him, but still hearing him get so angry for having to look at you and sharing that small space with him, definitely did hurt.

“Bakugou, why are you being difficult?” The director sighed. “ Look how you made her look, this girl has never been on a set and you already made her lay nude under a blanket, expecting me to go under that blanket. I’m not a FUCKING PERVERT GODDAMIT!” He was looking so angry, but you had to tell him. You slightly tapped his shoulder. “WHAT?!” He screamed. “Err... Bakugou...” You lifted up the blanket. “I’m not naked.” You couldn’t help but notice the quick scan he gave your body. You couldn’t blame him, especially since you had done the same. “Oh well, still you shouldn’t do anything you don’t feel comfortable with.” You gave him a tiny smile. “Don’t worry I trust you, it’s only for a second right.” He couldn’t help it. You intrigued him. The way you made him forget what he was doing (literally), the way you were sooo out of place, but still seemed to enjoy your time here and the way you just talked to him. “Alright let’s go then ACTION.” And the crew just knew Bakugou’s “action” was just as valid as the director’s.

You continued with the loving looks. Bakugou’s smile was a lot bigger than before, “He can really act.” You thought to yourself. And while you were still holding his neck in your arms, he grabbed the blanket and put it over the two of you in a swift move. Now you were surrounded in the dark. The only thing you could see were his red eyes. “Thanks for making me feel at ease today Bakugou. It was nice of you being cautious whether you should kiss me. Err... I mean kiss my cheek.” You stammered quickly, knowing that this conversation could only take a few seconds. “ No problem Dumbass. I’m still cautious though..” his face was closer now. “About what?” You let out. Feeling butterflies in your stomach, feeling your breathing stagger and your hands getting sweaty. “About whether I should kiss you right now. You’re probably too nervous with everyone around right?” How had he known that you wanted to kiss him? You felt humiliated, but still you had a ace up your sleeve. “Don’t worry about that, I already paused everyone.” You said with a smirk. “WAIT A MINUTE, you DAMN extra were the one to pau...” but he couldn’t finish his sentence. You had already put your lips on his and he had already forgotten all about his anger. That day you found out that you could use your quirk to a much longer extent than 30 seconds.

Authors note: Just a quick story I came up with. Hope you enjoyed it and would appreciate a reblog💚

#mha #mha chubby #mha x reader #mha x y/n #bakugou #bakugou x you #bakugou fluff #bakugou sweet #bakugou x chubby reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x poc!reader #katsuki x you #katsuki x y/n #bakugou x y/n #bnha #bnha bakugou #bnha fluff #bnha x reader #mha fluff #bakudad #bakubro #dynamight #dynamight x reader #ground zero #mha dynamight #bakugou x black reader #bakugou fighting #bakugou imagine #bakugou smutt #snwrites