#clearly these two are taking over a large amount of brain space
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#47- Spite. Please and thank you. :)
Clarke drops her head to Lexa’s thigh, smiling into the warmed skin there as she feels the trembles, minute but noticeable under her vigilant, loving touch. Lexa lets out a forced breath as she raises her head from the splintered wooden dock, threading hands through Clarke’s flaxen hair to tug her up, pressing a deep kiss to smiling lips.
Clarke lets herself be led willingly, settling into the cradle of Lexa’s hips as she melts into her lover, running a gentle hand across the heartbeat that she could feel thrumming under the tips of her fingers. Lexa smiles at her adoringly, her bright eyes sparkling as she tucks a hand underneath her head to prop herself up.
She presses an adoring nose to the place where Lexa’s ear meets her neck, inhaling the comforting scent of the beach after it rained, the brine of the sea. They sit in silence for a few long moments, simply taking comfort in each other. Lexa stiffens slightly as she catches sight of the moon, hanging brightly in the middle of the sky as its cool brilliance pours in through the shack’s little window.
“It’s late, Clarke. I must go.” Lexa sounds regretful as she shifts Clarke gently, preparing to stand. Clarke is abruptly jarred from her good mood as Lexa’s arms close on her biceps to nudge her off, already reaching for the beautiful pelt that she tucked reverently in the corner upon her arrival.
Clarke stews quietly as she pulls her own clothing on, feeling the dark cloud over her head grow to a thunderhead as Lexa continues to peer out the window, oblivious to Clarke’s mood.
Lexa tucks the pelt around her shoulders, reaching for Clarke to press a goodbye kiss on her as she had so many times the past few months. Clarke had been a dutiful girlfriend, had smiled and made herself soft for the various goodbyes, but she felt the tenuous leash on her temper that had been fraying slightly more over these abrupt goodbyes, abruptly snap as Lexa brushed her shoulder with a small smile on her face.
Clarke jerks back abruptly, Lexa’s fingers halting in surprise as her loving girlfriend transforms into a hostile force before her eyes.
“I think you should just go, Lexa,” Clarke snarls as she purposefully avoids Lexa’s hold, wrapping her shawl tighter around her shoulders. Her rage only grows at the bewildered echo in Lexa’s eyes, how her gaze follows Clarke as she moves away from the water, away from Lexa.
“Wouldn’t want to keep you from your true love,” Clarke growls spitefully, pressing a slightly mocking kiss onto surprised lips before stomping further up the beach, burning with anger as she stands with her back to the waves.
She ignores Lexa’s soft entreaties for her to come closer, to say goodbye properly as she darts another panicked glance at the moon, at how the tide laps at her feet.
Why did she have to leave? Why does she always leave?
“I will explain everything, Clarke,” Lexa breathes, looking pained as she stands with one foot in the foamy wash of the shore, the other on land, turning like she was poised to sprint up the beach to Clarke.
“But for tonight, we are out of time.”
Clarke looks away pointedly from the water, denying Lexa a chance to say a proper goodbye as she hears a body enter the water gracefully. When she looks back, a dark, sleek head is bobbing far out in the water.
Lexa is gone for two weeks.
In her free time, still inflamed with righteous anger at her perceived abandonment, Clarke storms off to her grandmother’s house, and asks to see her collection of lore books that she keeps, shelved neatly in a back corner of her bright cottage. Lily raises an eyebrow but agrees, appearing to hand Clarke a steaming cup of tea as she leafs through the books, searching.
She had bit her tongue, apart from a few stunned questions when she had first seen a beautiful girl emerge from the waves at the turn of last summer, eyes greener than the forest, dark hair cascading down her back as she had quietly, shyly introduced herself to Clarke. Clarke had fallen for the Selkie so deeply and completely, deciding early on that whatever Lexa deigned to tell her about her culture, her people, would be enough. Now, however, that was not enough to satisfy Clarke.
Sitting crossed legged on the smooth wooden lore, she cracks open a small green book, rapidly flipping pages-
Abarta, Changelings, Banshee, Faeries….Leprechaun….Selkie.
Heart in her throat, she bends over the little book, squinting at the age-yellowed pages as she turns them gingerly between careful fingers.
Because the skins are limited, passing one on is very rare: either from the death of its previous owner, or a parent choosing to give up their mortality so a younger family member may have a turn. Since there are so few, not every Selkie child receives a skin. While human in appearance, Selkies are very much Other, and must live by the rules of their kind. If someone takes their skin captive while the Selkie is in human form, they are very much Indebted to that person. Selkies must be back in their seal form prior to midnight, so tied are they to the sea. Such is the curse of the Selkies.
She runs a trembling finger farther down the page to read the inscription that had been scrawled in a cramped margin, tucking her hair impatiently behind her ear as she bends closer, nose almost skimming the page as she reads.
"You are here to make your choice. Will you join the Selkies in the sea, or will you live human for the length and breadth of your days, however long or short those days may be? Before you choose, you must understand where we come from; why our skins are limited in number, why there are no other races like us in Faerie. To become a link in the chain which binds us, you must first be forged. Will you swim the deep waters? Will you be a sister to your people, and keep them ever in your heart?"
A tear drips off of her nose, hitting the page with a wet plop. Two more fall in rapid succession. Clarke closes the book as the tears stream down her face, loathe to ruin the book with her outpouring of emotion. She cradles the small tome close to her chest as she leans back against the shelf, chest heaving as she tries to keep the maelstrom of emotion contained within herself, so as to not alert her Grandmother.
“I didn’t understand, Lexa,” she whispers to the salt air that pours through the nearby window, the quiet calling of gulls in the distance mixing with the soothing wash of the waves.
Every night for the next week, Clarke goes to sit by the waves as the moon rises in the sky, hoping that tonight is the night that her Selkie returns.
#clexa#selkie!lexa#human!clarke#kiss prompt#clearly these two are taking over a large amount of brain space#pre-What the Ground Gave Us#kpprompts
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COMMISSION TYPE: 1 hour of personalized roleplay
PRICE: 30
FANDOM: Hannibal
CHARACTERS: Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter
REQUESTED SUMMARY: ”I'd like to do a Hannibal/Will roleplay if possible. Giant Will taking his revenge on a tiny Hannibal. Since Hannibal has brought him so much pain, it's only right that he should have to give him pleasure as well, now that he's small enough that Will is the one completely in control for once. Could feature Will jacking off and stimulating himself with Hannibal, leading to cock vore with Will taunting that he's just keeping Hannibal as safe as Hannibal always kept him, sending killers after him.
(I'm fine with it being posted on the blog—I generally prefer discord rp if possible.”
WARNINGS: nsfw
-——
fandom-gt —
Once upon a time, Will Graham was not a violent man. It isn't necessarily an endearing attribute -- part of what got him benched from his time as a cop was his inability to pull the trigger in the field.
Things change. As with much in Will's life, Hannibal is largely to blame for this change. Hannibal changed him.
Once upon a time, staring down at the tiny figure that he'd once thought of as a friend, his first instinct might have been protect. To shelter, to aid, to assist. Now, staring dispassionately down from what must look like a mile high to that tiny little face, something distinctly other stirs in Will's gut. His first instinct instead is a deep, profound sense of satisfaction -- and a much darker sense of delight.
He lowers himself slowly into a squat, not that it does terribly much to make him smaller from Hannibal's perspective, but at least he can make out those tiny features a little better when he says (with no small measure of amusement), "Well. This is a predicament."
commissioner —
Hannibal's usually impassive face is even harder to read when he is hardly as tall as Will's palm, but Will has learned how to decipher every microexpression during their time together. Hannibal takes up a disproportionate amount of space in his mind—even more so now, considering. Regardless, Hannibal's displeasure is obvious. "We need to solve this quickly, William. Being this size certainly can't be safe."
Will merely chuckles. Hannibal seems to be under the impression that he'll be getting assistance. That couldn't be further from the truth.
Still, he can give Hannibal a hand. He scoops his former friend up, bringing him to eye level. "Unsafe, did you say? When are we ever safe around one another?"
fandom-gt —
Will's fingers, to Hannibal, are immense. Trees, columns, Roman pillars straight from the colosseum. For a man who so frequently compares himself to God, he cannot deny that of the two of them, Will more closely fits the visage now. It's unusual for him to feel certain emotions -- too composed, too much self-control, too methodical in his planning. His mind works too quickly for him to feel such undignified things as fear.
But then, never before has he been towered over with such immense and biblical power. To his own credit, he quells the lizard-brain impulse to run, but only just. He forces himself to remain stoic, to remain still, as that enormous hand reaches from on high and seizes him effortlessly, hoisting his entire body up story after story after story, taller than the Chrysler building, before eyes that have always stared too deeply and too knowingly into his own.
He can see things clearly at normal size. Can see through people's microexpressions and body language like reading a book. Now, Will's feelings are practically telegraphed by bullhorn directly into his mind, and he is not comforted by what he sees.
Hannibal's mind and his tongue are his greatest asset here, and so he remains as calm as possible when he answers, "Think about what you're doing, Will. Think about who you are. The choices you make next... could be definitive for you."
Although... he thinks, maybe part of him deep down might slightly relish seeing Will unleashed, at his full power. Just perhaps not on himself, though it would be poetically fitting.
commissioner —
He's always wanted to see Will's becoming. For as long as he's had an understanding of Will's mind, Hannibal has wanted to be a part of it. The part of Will's victim had not been his intended role, however, and he can only hope that, whatever Will plans will be torturous rather than murderous.
Hannibal would deserve it if Will killed him. Will is tempted to end the Chesapeake Ripper once and for all simply by closing his fingers and squeezing. The power he holds in a single finger feels unfathomable compared to Hannibal's size, but he can resist. Killing Hannibal would be a momentary satisfaction.
He and Hannibal are connected, inseparable. It wouldn't do to end their game so easily. "I intend to make very definitive choices, Dr. Lecter. I can't promise that you'll like them, but they'll be definitive."
If they are playing a game, Hannibal has been downsized to the role of a toy rather than a proper player, and Will intends to treat him like one. Though Hannibal's habit of wearing a full suit at all times makes it difficult, it's a matter of moments for Will to remove his layers, stripping him down to his most rudimentary form.
fandom-gt —
It's been years, decades, since Hannibal felt small. Not since his sister. Never, not once since those days, has he felt powerless. Until now, with the whorls of fingerprints bearing down on him, shedding easily a suit that costs more than some people's monthly salaries. He's as dignified as he can manage through the panic -- it's pointless to struggle, he knows. His energy will be better expended elsewhere, when his survival might be at stake, rather than just his clothing.
The suit jacket falls. The shirt follows. The pants. Soon, he's naked in air that would be cold, were it not for the body heat radiating from the palm he's perched on.
One of Will's fingers encroaches on his space, pushing him flat against that palm effortlessly. It touches down, dragging softly -- as soft as he can manage, given the callouses on his fingertips from boat motors and fishing hooks. Will is... carressing him. Touching him. Rubbing gently at the flaccid member between his legs without even realizing he's doing it, probably, just because his finger is so large on Hannibal's body.
And Will, being the empath that he is, knows the pleasure Hannibal once felt at being God. He understands it deeply now, too. It's compelling. It's arrousing, and several hundred feet below, heat beginns to stiffen him behind the confines of his slacks.
"All the pain you've caused me... the things you took from me." Alana, for examplee. "I think... maybe it's only fair you give a little of it back now, don't you? Balance, Doctor Lecter."
"Anything," Hannibal promises him, thinking Will means after his restoration to the right size. "However I can, Will. I'll make it right."
commissioner —
"Of course you will. Quid pro quo, isn't that right? What you have done unto me, I will do unto you. It's rather kind of you to make it so easy for me. I never thought you would make things so easy." The clink of Will's belt buckle accentuates his statement, and Hannibal looks down, surprised to see Will making quick work of removing his pants. The emotion only becomes more pronounced when he sees the tent in the boxers which Will removes without any hesitation.
Hannibal has seen Will Graham in various states of dress, but he's never seen him naked. His first instinct is to reach out and touch, but size and distance make that impossible. He wouldn't want to touch at this size, even if he could. It is only exposure to this new element of Will that is drawing him in like a moth to a flame, not genuine sexual desire.
Not that he doesn't desire Will. But there is more between them than something base and carnal. More important things to consider than sexuality.
Will sees the aborted motion of Hannibal's hand and decides to make things easy on the good doctor, lowering him down and placing him on top of his shaft, immediately releasing him so that Hannibal will have to cling to his cock for dear life. "Make it right, then."
fandom-gt —
What's happening here, Hannibal can admit, is something transcendent. He has too much ego, perhaps too much narcissism, to ever worship anyone but himself -- but if he were going to bow at any altar, if he had to, it would be Will's. Now, Will has taken away his choice. It isn't optional. He doesn't like it, but he does respect it.
Will is hard. Hard enough to provide plenty of surface area for Hannibal to cling to -- and he does have to cling, because not long after depositing him, Will's hands fall away and he begins to walk. The ground beneath Hannibal quakes and sways, and he grips out of sheer need to survive, to not fall from his place. Will's body is a mindless mountain that could end him without conscious thought, and all he's doing is walking toward the chaise lounge across Hannibal's office.
He sits, and the landscape sits with him. Hannibal can't deny the relief of his fall being reduced to yards instead of a mile, as Will sprawls comfortably, arms outstretched along the back of the sofa, staring down at Hannibal expectantly.
There's only one thing for it. He begins to work, unsteadily climbing the cock he's been clinging to for desperate support. As he reaches the head, a pearl of precum beads and begins to descend, streaking rapidly toward him. "Will-" he pleads, only to be cut off as it drips over his face, his body, rudely and filthily silencing him. Will does not see fit to save him, and far above, his lips twitch into a smirk. (edited)
commissioner —
"You said you would do anything, didn't you? I should certainly think that bringing me a moment of pleasure falls under that umbrella quite easily. Unless you don't think you can handle it, of course." Challenging Hannibal's pride is always a solid path to victory. It works when they need to bait the Ripper and it works when Will wants Hannibal to rise to the intellectual challenge of their conversations. As the Ripper, Hannibal normally has the upper hand, taking the bait while leaving the hook behind, not harming himself in the process, but Will thinks he might be able to hook Hannibal this time. He's been a patient fisherman, after all.
Ever so slowly, Hannibal starts to rub his hands across the head of Will's cock, spreading the precome across its surface as he does his best to provide some semblance of stimulation.
Let it not be said that Will is an unkind god, as when his cock twitches from the pleasure and threatens to buck Hannibal off, Will lowers a hand to keep him in place. Holding Hannibal, however, gives Will an idea. The man has been soaked in precome and feels decently slippery in Will's hand. Perhaps Will can use him more effectively than Hannibal can use himself.
Changing his grip, Will lowers Hannibal to the shaft, slowly starting to stroke his length with Hannibal as a delicious little toy, stimulating the vein as he moves.
fandom-gt —
This is, truly, the ultimate degredation for Hannibal. That unflinching, unfaltering, unapologetic hand descends on him, plucking him from his careful perch and arranging him as Will sees fit. In this case, it's plastering him face-first against the malleable skin beneath the head of Will's cock, and then dragging him through the slick of his cum, grinding him into the unforgiving cartilage only barely softened by the skin wrapped over it.
It becomes apparent that Hannibal's safety is not necessarily at the top of Will's mind as his grip tightens, as his pace quickens. As the world begins to blur while Will chases his own pleasure using Hannibal's body, heedless of the pain and discomfort being done to him. It's only fair, isn't it? After all, Hannibal left Will's body bleeding and broken once, as far as Will's concerned this is much gentler than what he went through.
Hannibal should be grateful, Will thinks. He can feel that tiny body squirming against his nerves, the strength of his struggles, his weak protests that do nothing but add to his own pleasure, and his breath hitches at the flood. The rush of electricity, the coiling pressure in his pelvis.
A groan breaks through him, loud enough to rumble Hannibal's sensitive eardrums -- and then he's flooded by a torrential downpour, wave after wave of it, galons of the stuff washing over Hannibal like a tidal wave. Like every other elemental act of God that floods cities and swallows men.
Eventually, it's done -- and when it is, Hannibal does not have the audacity to hope this is the end of his torment. He's smart enough to know better.
"You know," mumbles Will, his voice hoarse and deafening and satisfied. "Part of you always wanted to consume me, and I think... maybe part of you thinks I should consume you now."
That, Hannibal thinks, truly would be a fitting end. To be swallowed. But Will... has always been his own man, no matter how much Hannibal ever hoped to predict him, and so he's brought hovering over the spent, slick, gaping hole of Will's cock.
"Maybe I will, but I'm also going to keep you safe. Keep you with me. Keep you alive." And his hand begins to lower. Hannibal feels his feet being swallowed and, all at once, understands exactly where Will means to keep him.
commissioner —
It's poetic, in a way. Being consumed would be a fitting way to go, but of course Will would find a way to subvert that consummation of their eternal bond in much the same way that he always manages to subvert Hannibal's expectations.
Hannibal knows that struggling would be a feeble endeavor. He could bite and rip and tear at the lining of Will's cock, tearing it to shreds as he is submerged in the darkness, but it would serve no purpose. If he ever wants to be free, he must hope for mercy from Will, and that something that he has never deserved from Will Graham.
As Hannibal makes the path down his shaft, Will feels a profound sense of rightness. Locking Hannibal away where Will would never be able to see him again had always felt wrong, yet Will also couldn't allow him to run free. Truly, bringing Hannibal into himself, allowing Hannibal to see him at his most vulnerable while Will has him completely under his control, is the perfect way to put an end to the Chesapeake Ripper.
Will won't even need the thanks that he will never receive from Jack. Having Hannibal with him forever is more than reward enough.
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The Ethics of Creation
Every mad scientist needs that perfect dark and stormy night. They can see it so clearly: thick black clouds choking out the light of the stars, rain threatening to crash through rickety ceilings, thunder that shakes the frame and lightning that’s dramatic and well-timed enough to illuminate the true madness of creation.
This wasn’t one of those nights. And, for that matter, Axel wasn’t a mad scientist. They weren’t “mad” (unless you were talking about anger - Axel was as bitter as anything), and they were only a “scientist” by the thinnest gossamer stretch of a particularly optimistic imagination.
Axel fancied themself a folklorist, but there wasn’t much respect for that field in The Academy. The Academy generally frowned upon anyone who wasn’t hunkering down in some dingy lab somewhere - sketchy science was very much en vogue - and that person simply had to have a PhD. They didn’t give doctorates for anything less than remaking yourself (and others) in the light of divinity, so Axel had done their due diligence. They’d sat through Brains (The Science of and Power Within), Things to Do With Blood Vessels, and the one scant ethics class where the professor had spent most of his time shrieking. Axel had gotten the feeling that “playing god” was something that professor did on Sundays, after a hearty bout of laughing maniacally and spreading general academic mischief.
Anyways, to get to the point, Axel was, shall we say, frazzled. They’d DONE the work. They’d put in the time. And now tonight it was all going to come to fruition…probably.
At this very moment, they are standing in front of a large circle drawn in orange chalk on the floor of The Academy’s Dingy Lab #13302 (“please leave the space clean when you’re done, others have blasphemy to get done here too, be considerate” reads the plaque next to the door). They have no table, no volts, no open skylight, no hallmarks of The Night of Invention. What little they do possess amounts to some candles, a knife, two colors of chalk, a jacket stained with what might be paint and is probably also grass, dirt-encrusted fingernails, and a book. Axel had reserved this 6ft x 6ft room by sheer miracle, as The Academy frowned HEAVILY upon their chosen field. To figure out what it is exactly that Axel does, you really should know that the title of the book (solid black hardcover with gold lettering and a couple water stains) is “Fae, Fairfolk, Sidhe and Mysterious Beings: How To Summon”.
Axel sighs loudly with the smallest tinge of dramatic inclination and wipes their thick brown hair off of their sweaty forehead. They try desperately not to cringe while they hold their bleeding palm over each of the five candles, and the center of the circle. When there is a sufficient amount spread across the floor, they wrap up their palm with dirty gray bandages and fall to their knees. Grunting quietly, they mix the blood with the chalk and draw the required sigils. Ten sigils, twenty sigils, thirty. They know the markings have to be drawn before the blood dries if they are to have any effect, and they’re running out of time. Their fingers shake as they finish the last swoop, and all the dizziness catches up to them in a rush. They curse their frail mortal body under their breath, and gulp down some water wildly, being careful not to spill any of it on the fresh glyphs.
Then, it’s time. They take a deep breath and clear their throat, wrapping cloth around their eyes for good measure. For a moment the complete darkness terrifies them, but they’re a professional. They choke down their fear and store any lingering feelings of danger deep in the marrow of their bones, far away from their conscious mind. It thrums through them, becoming background noise, becoming irrelevant.
They run their hands over the book once, twice, three times for reassurance. They know this has no place in the coming ritual but fuck it, intentionality matters as much as the rest of it. Finally, they put their hands on their legs and sit up straight on the outer edge of the circle. They know they can’t move. They are afraid they won’t be able to help it.
They say the words, old worlds, ancient words - it doesn’t particularly matter which ones. They say the words they found in the book, then some they had found scratched onto a plank of wood by the train track, then some they thought they had heard a large black crow say to them weeks ago. They whisper and the air they displace with their intoned speech becomes song, becomes divine, becomes magic. They feel a stirring in the room, not a physical shift necessarily but something just under the surface - something writhing on some other adjacent plane.
They don’t feel the moment of genesis when it happens and they’re struck with pangs of disappointment, but they can see it - oh gods, they can see it. The light shines through the black cloth of their makeshift blindfold and burns through their closed eyelids. For seconds that feel like hours it’s almost as if they have been staring directly into the sun, and then all at once it dims. Axel hears the soft rustling sound of the candles going out, and an even softer sound of someone…or something…breathing. Slowly, they remove their blindfold and open their eyes.
The candles are nothing more than puddles of wax on the floor. The sigils that took so much blood have sizzled to nothing more than gray ash, and in the center of the circle sits the most beautiful thing (person?) Axel has ever seen.
She has long, curly red hair that tumbles down her shoulders and rests against her back. She’s wearing a green long-sleeved shirt and long pants, both made out of leaves, but even the full coverage couldn’t dim the light of the sigils that are glowing on the surface of her arms, torso, and legs. They glow orange and seem to be shifting slightly under her clothes, and Axel doesn’t know what to make of her. They try to remember the rules of fae interaction, remembering distantly that if you’re not careful the fae will take you for all you’re worth, but that is so far gone from them now.
The fae looks up at them with a start, and her eyes are a piercing silver color, run through with a snake-like vertical slit instead of a human pupil. Her face is round and covered in constellations of freckles, and when she speaks it resounds through the air like every molecule was holding its breath, waiting for her words.
“Where am I?”, she asks, leaning towards Axel. Her voice is truth. She doesn’t blink.
Axel tries to gulp and finds their throat dry. They clear it instead, and gesture to the room around them.
“You’re in my lab, well, not my lab, technically a rented space - I really have to clean all this up - holy hell, you’re everything I’ve been trying to prove for years!” Axel remembers themself and jumps to their feet. “You’re real! Faefolk, shifters, they’re real! And they TOLD me I was crazy!” They’re practically shouting now, smiling maniacally.
The fae looks down at herself, at the room, and at Axel. “I don’t want to be here.” She looks at the floor. “You - you’d bind me here?”
Axel’s joy fades, a little bit. “I, I’m sorry about that,” they say, “It was just a precaution. I’ll break the circle if you swear not to run away.” They slowly lower themselves to the floor, putting their hands where the fae can see them. The fae nods and Axel runs a finger across the chalk line, smudging it in one spot. The fae smiles then, a tinge of malice spreading across her face, and laughs.
“A gesture is not a contract, youngling. Thank you for setting me loose.” She stands, and walks briskly past Axel. As she passes, Axel smells The End on her. They smell the lingering scent of a forest, burnt entirely to the ground.
Their heart stops for an instant and they can feel thick, curling gray smoke in their lungs. They cough, loudly and dangerously, and feel their eyes tear up, and then start to burn.
“No - wait - please!”, they choke out, but the fae is already leaving. She turns back to look at Axel, sprawled on the ground as they are, clawing at the air in utter desperation. She cocks her head to the side and closes her eyes. She takes a deep, lingering breath as Axel’s vision starts to blur, and then everything stops. Suddenly there is no air in the room anymore but Axel finds that they don’t need to breathe. The pain is gone, just as quickly as it had consumed them.
“What do you want from me?”, they ask, when their vocal chords remember their purpose. The fae looks beyond them, and then looks through them, searching for something in the hollow of Axel’s chest. She walks back to Axel and sits down before them languidly, her movements as fluid as water, as natural as the wind.
She reaches out to cup Axel’s cheek in her hand and Axel finds themself heating up. Her hand is the extreme, the burning heat of cold and the numbing chill of being burned alive, but to Axel it just feels like a campfire.
“Follow me,” she whispers, and the sharp silver knife of her words pauses just before Axel’s jugular, and that, at least, they can sense. They find, after all that, that they don’t care much. Screw The Academy. They were right, and now they’re going to do something few people in academia ever have. They’re going to change the world.
Axel gets up and follows her, a lovely moth to a violent flame, out of the laboratory and into the night. As they walk they change - they become more wispy, less tangible. They find they can move through space like they’re just an amalgamation of parts instead of a whole. They can feel all of these parts, and feel how they’re all connected to something gently beating beneath the ground. As Axel and the fae walk, the beating becomes drum beats, the faint whisper of wind through Autumn leaves becomes raucous noises of merriment. The fae leads them down, down, and then Axel’s gone.
They’re something else now. If you put your feet in the dirt and tilt your head towards a starlit sky, you’ll feel them. Just listen. Just listen.
#fae#mad science#creative writing#writing#modern prometheus#ttrpg#fiction#queer writer#writeblr#queer people rock
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2 + 3 = You In Me
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Pairing: Tutor!Jaemin x Fem!Reader
Genre: Smut (pwp), Slight Angst, College AU
Words: 4.6k+
Warnings: 18+ content. Unprotected sex.
Synopsis: He agrees to tutor you and you end up becoming good friends even though you both so clearly want to be more. What happens when you let you bodies talk for you?
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Jaemin was coming over to help you prepare for a test. You had no clue how he'd agreed to assist you, but you were thankful nonetheless. Jaemin rarely ever studied with girls. Mostly because they were always hitting on him. But it seemed you were an exception. You wondered why but you figured it was because he was trying to make some extra money.
Yes, Jaemin made you pay him. He made everyone pay him so you didn't think too much of it. From what you'd heard, his methods never failed to prove effective. You hoped he could help you study well enough to pass this test. After all, a majority of your grade depended on it.
You'd spent a good amount of your time trying to prepare a nice study space for you both to sit at in your apartment. So far you'd only managed to clean your coffee table and place two cushions for seats at its feet.
Jaemin would be here any minute. You rushed to get everything you'd need for the day, wanting to keep it all ready so that you wouldn't have to interrupt the study session. Your bell rang not soon after. He was here on time.
Opening the door, you welcomed him with a smile. He nodded and entered without a word. Black track pants and a plain white shirt. Jaemin hadn't made much of an effort to dress to impress. He ventured into your dorm, looking around the place silently.
That's when he came across your makeshift study zone. He pointed at it and looked at you.
"We're studying here," he asked, placing his hands in his pockets. He sounded a tad bit dejected. Your eyes widened slightly in panic. Was he not comfortable with sitting on the floor? "Yeah, I figured. Is there a problem," you asked, fearing the worst for no reason. Jaemin shook his head. "Nope, I just thought we were gonna sit in your room. That's where most of the girls take me anyways," he revealed, flashing you a small grin. You immediately felt at ease.
"My room's kind of a mess at the moment," you admitted, joining him near your couch. He took a seat on the floor, placing the cushion behind his back instead. He cleaned his black-rimmed glasses and patted the space next to himself. "Let's get started."
Jaemin was a pro at breaking down the complex concept so that your pea-sized brain could understand it to the fullest. The only drawback with that method was that it took much longer than you'd like it to. Two hours later you'd only finished one of the chapters that would be coming for the test. You still had four more to go.
"Fuck it's already three o'clock," you complained, falling dramatically on the coffee table. Jaemin flipped his pen in his fingers and stretched his body with a yawn. "I don't mind staying overtime," he joked. He'd made a lot of humoring comments during your time with him. The last you'd heard, he tended to be quite serious, never straying from his purpose. Not that you minded or anything, but Jaemin wasn't really meeting the expectations everyone had set for him in your mind. Maybe they were just trying to intimidate you.
"Don't you have to study too," you asked, turning your head to glance at him. He looked at you and shook his head. "I already studied beforehand. Plus, this test's gonna be super easy. You pass it with a breeze," he admitted. As relieving as that sounded, you didn't wanna take any chances. What if he flunked the test because he didn't revise or something. You really didn't want to be the person he blamed when that happened.
"You don't have to stay for my sake. You can go home if you want to. I think I can manage on my own now." you flipped through the pages of your coursebook, sighing in despair. It was a lot to go through. At least you still had half the day left.
Jaemin folded his arms. "Don't worry about me y/n. Not to undermine you, but I don't think you can get through all of this by yourself. I mean, you barely managed to understand the basics. All those chapters just branch off from this one and get increasingly tough to learn."
If this was him trying to convince you to let him stay then it sure as hell was working. You groaned and sat back up. "You promise you won't fail the test because of me then?" Jaemin chuckled. "Of course not. I'll pass with flying colors."
So you resumed studying. Jaemin was right. What he taught you next was more confusing than the first chapter you'd covered. You regretted not paying attention during your lectures. Jaemin never got impatient with you. In fact, he took ample time to make sure you understood everything he explained to you. He was very thorough and you appreciated that. However the more knowledge you absorbed, the more exhausted you felt. It got to the point where you felt like you couldn't study any further. Jaemin then suggested that you take a small break. You couldn't have agreed faster.
"Once we're done you should go through the practice questions that I emailed you," Jaemin reminded, taking a sip of the soda you'd offered him. You gave him a thumbs up and fell on the ground. "You're a lifesaver Na Jaemin."
Jaemin chuckled and turned to you. "I'm guessing it's not just math that you're having a problem with."
You raised your head and narrowed your eyes at him. "Nicely deduced."
"We can get together to study together for your other subjects if you don't mind. No need to pay me either," he offered.
You furrowed your brows. "Jaemin the longer you spend teaching me the dumber you're gonna get."
He brushed you off. "I'm pretty sure it doesn't work like that."
"You never know, and besides, after today you should know that it's gonna take five hundred years to clear all my concepts. Do you even have that kind of time?"
Jaemin tilted his soda can at you. "You'd be surprised at how much free time I have on my hands."
You smiled. "Wait so you're actually agreed to be my personal tutor."
Jaemin rolled his eyes amusedly. "It was my proposition but yes. I wouldn't be your personal tutor though. Just a study partner."
You sat up and leaned back. "So like, studying in the library after class and stuff like that?"
He nodded. "If the library's closed we can come here or I can take you to my place."
You pursed your lips, considering his deal. But something paused your train of thoughts. "Wait a minute. Why are you asking me this all of a sudden? You hardly seem like the type of guy who'd study with someone else."
Jaemin downed his drink, wincing at the fizziness that clawed at his throat. "I've had fun studying with you so far. Like, you're genuinely dumb, unlike some other people I tutor who just pretend to be dumb so they can spend a few hours with me."
You raised a brow. Had he just called you dumb? "I'll try not to take offense, thank you very much."
Jaemin apologized with a laugh.
"Does it make you feel smarter in some type of way," you asked? Jaemin hummed in response. "It kinda does now that you mention it. But I also feel like it would help me revise and clear my own concepts at the same time."
That made sense. "Damn, and here I was thinking you wanted to do this cause you were interested in me."
Jaemin's eyes widened. You raised your hands in defense. "It's just a joke. Don't take it seriously," you assured. Jaemin relaxed at that.
"Let's get started again. We're almost halfway there," he said, changing the topic. You agreed and sat beside him again, pen in hand, ready to go.
_
You walked out of your lecture with a bright smile on your face and headed straight to the library. Sure enough, Jaemin was already sitting there, waiting for you patiently. You sent him a small wave and skipped over to him. Handing him your graded test paper, you watched excitedly as his eyes lit up.
"Oh my god. You passed!"
You squealed and sat next to him, placing your bag near your feet. Jaemin smiled up at you. "This is such a good score," he added, glad that he'd been able to help.
"Henceforth we're studying together for every single test. I don't care if you're sick or at a friend's house."
Jaemin laughed and nodded. "Sure thing. If it means seeing you this happy then I'm down."
You froze at his words, glancing towards him. He clearly didn't seem to realize what he'd just said. Maybe you'd heard wrong. It was possible. After all, he was whispering. You didn't exactly have the best track record when it came to listening anyways. Concluding that you were mistaken, you pulled out your books and got to finishing up your assignments.
A few hours later Jaemin and you exited the library. You both usually parted ways since your dorms were in the opposite direction. However today, Jaemin followed behind you.
"What are you doing," you asked when he jogged up next to you. "We should celebrate your achievement today," he suggested. That sounded nice. "Okay then, what do you propose we should do?"
Jaemin pondered on your question. "Let's go to the cafe. I'll buy you coffee and anything else you want."
Coffee was perfect. You nodded and agreed. Jaemin grinned and led you to a small cafe that was just a little outside campus.
You both entered the small shop, the tantalizing scent of coffee hitting your senses immediately. Even though it was almost lunchtime, the cafe was brimming with multitudes of students. Luckily, the queue was short.
"Go find us somewhere nice to sit. I'll buy us some drinks," Jaemin said, pulling out his phone. Before you left, you let him know what you'd like.
Venturing to the back of the cafe, you found a secluded booth for two. It faced a large window, one that gave a fantastic view of the campus. You took a seat and placed your bag next to you. After a couple minutes of waiting, Jaemin emerged with your drinks in hand. He handed you yours before sitting down.
"Iced Americano? I see you're into the classics," you chimed, deciding to spark up a conversation. Jaemin took a sip of his drink. "Simple is the best after all."
Of course, it was. "Hey Jaemin," you started, setting your drink down on the table. He hummed. "Do you wanna come over later today," you asked. Jaemin furrowed his brows. "But we already finished studying."
You shook your head. "Not to study. Let's hang out, maybe watch a movie or something like that."
He seemed a bit taken aback, but nothing too alarming. It was just that you two never really did anything other than study together. Sure enough, you'd become close because of it. But you figured as friends, there were other things you could engage in to pass the time.
"Let's do it. What time should I come over," Jaemin asked? "Does seven work for you? I'll order pizza, so you don't need to worry about dinner."
Jaemin nodded. "Seven works for me."
_
As soon as the clock struck seven, there was a knock on your door. The ever punctual Jaemin would never be a second late. You let him in, eager to get your night started. He walked into your dorm and went straight to your room, plopping down on your bed as if it were his own.
You'd already been browsing on Netflix, wondering what genre he liked. It had never come up in conversation before so you didn't really know.
"What are we watching," he asked, scrolling through the options. You shrugged and joined him on your bed. "I'm not sure. I didn't know what you like," you admitted.
"I usually just watch whatever's in the top ten or 'new this week'," he shared. He stopped at a movie you would never have believed he'd be interested in.
"You wanna watch Yes Day," you asked in disbelief? Jaemin giggled and nodded innocently. "It looks super lame but I've already finished watching everything," he revealed. Here you were thinking you both would watch something more serious instead of a family movie. Instead of spending forty minutes trying to settle on one movie, you decided it best to just go with the first choice.
Jaemin started the movie and leaned back beside you. It was quiet between you both for the most part. You watched the movie in silence. It wasn't as entertaining as you'd thought it would be, but Jaemin seemed to be engrossed in it so you chose to say nothing and continued staring at the screen.
Halfway into the movie, Jaemin stifled a yawn and fell to the side, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He looked at you and pointed to the screen. "Are we gonna keep watching this?"
You let out a breath of relief and exited out of the movie once and for all. "If you didn't like it why'd you make me watch it," you complained, shutting your laptop. Jaemin sat up and crossed his legs. "I thought you were enjoying it. You even laughed at the funny parts."
You stuck your chin out. "You should know what my fake laugh sounds like by now Jaemin." He raised his hands in defense. "The only time I hear you laugh is when you realize you're doing something wrong."
You tsked. "That's called nervous laughter genius. You suck at interpreting emotions."
He hit you with a pillow softly. "Hey, stop making me out for a robot."
"You're the human embodiment of the AI," you joked, dodging the pillow he swung at you. Raising your hands in defense, you shielded yourself from him. "At least I said you're intelligent."
Jaemin paused his attacks. "You're lucky I think you're cute. I'll let you off the hook for now."
You had another one of those moments where you froze, wondering if the words that had come out of his mouth were true or not. He didn't whisper this time. You'd heard everything word for word. But you couldn't believe it.
"Did you just call me cute?"
Jaemin nodded, not seeming too surprised about it. "You aren't not cute," he added. Maybe you were misinterpreting the meaning behind it. Friends called friends cute. It was normal. That didn't mean that they liked each other, did it?
Noticing the conflict in your expression, Jaemin leaned forward and cleared his throat. "I didn't mean it in an 'I have a crush on you' type of way."
Something about that made your stomach churn. You felt uneasy all of a sudden. You wanted to be relieved, that he didn't think of you as more than a friend. But a part of you wished he felt otherwise. You didn't know why, it just did.
You chuckled awkwardly and faced him. "Yeah, of course, you didn't. I don't know why I thought that."
Jaemin hummed and rested his chin on his palm. "Maybe because you wanted it to be true."
"Huh?"
"Maybe you wanted me to tell you that I like you."
You didn't know what to say to that. So you just smiled awkwardly. "But you don't, do you?"
Jaemin grinned. "Do you want me to?"
"No! Of course not, why would I-"
"I'm just messing with you y/n. Don't worry, we're just friends," he assured, finding you getting alarmed quite amusing. You hit his shoulder. "Don't joke around like that. Who knows what might happen."
Jaemin's laughter died down. He met your gaze sombrely. You knew he wanted to say something, but he remained silent. His eyes traveled down to your lips for a moment. You sucked in a breath, suddenly feeling giddy. Jaemin looked back into your eyes, this time with a small smile. You didn't know what he was doing. You also didn't know if you liked it or not. Your mind said one thing and your body said another. Jaemin subtly licked his lips. You had no clue why the action had such a devastating effect on you.
Before you knew it, your lips were on his. Jaemin didn't seem surprised at all. In fact, he relaxed and snaked his arm around your waist, pulling your body onto his. He fell back on your mattress, bringing you on top of him. Straddling his lap, you placed your hands on either side of his head, kissing him with vigor. Jaemin groaned against your mouth, the sound sending warm shivers down your back. His lips were softer than you thought they'd be and he tasted faintly of coffee.
His hands slipped under your shirt, resting on your skin. His touch felt fiery hot. You rolled your hips over his lap impulsively, biting his both lip as a throaty groan left his mouth. He squeezed your waist and trailed his hands down to your ass.
Before things could escalate, however, your bell rang. You both stilled, separating from each other. When your eyes met, you scrambled off of him and sat at the edge of your bed, completely stunned. Jaemin rubbed his face and sat up as well, not really knowing what to say. The bell rang again, snapping you out of your daze. "I'll go get that," you muttered disorientedly, leaving Jaemin in your room. He nodded and stood up. "Actually, I'm gonna go," he said, leaving your room before you could say anything. You heard the door open and shut soon after. Your bell rang again.
You went to open your door. A delivery guy stood before you, hands empty with a confused look on his face. "The guy that just left took the pizza with him. He said that you'd pay for it." You couldn't believe it. Nonetheless, you paid the man and shut your door. What had just happened?
_
A few days passed after the incident at your dorm. Jaemin hadn't called or texted you and in all honesty, you hadn't made an attempt to contact him. You felt too embarrassed to face him. After all, it was you who'd gone onto him. Even if he didn't push you away it wasn't like either of you had agreed to start making out. You were anxious because you knew you'd ruined your friendship with him.
A part of you missed him. You enjoyed spending time with him, even though all you did was study. Everything was so bleak now that he wasn't around to humor you.
You didn't want to regret whatever had happened that night. It was amazing. You just wished it hadn't ended the way it did. You should have understood that he indeed was joking. Instead, you mistook his prodding for sarcasm.
It made no sense for you to not speak to him. You wanted to make amends, figure out what had gone wrong. But you were scared he'd ignore you. That would just make you feel worse than you already did.
So you passed the days, wafting in your own misery. Pitying yourself as if the entire weight of the world had been thrown on your shoulders.
Little did you know that all it would take was another shitty test score for you to pick up your phone and call Jaemin.
"Help me study," you said as soon as he answered the call. Jaemin was silent on the other end. "Don't just listen to me. Say something," you begged. Your heart felt heavy. You heard him sigh. "I'd rather not y/n." You got goosebumps. "Jaemin, please. We can go to fucking library if that makes you feel better," you suggested, desperate for him to agree. After giving it some thought he finally answered you. "Okay fine. Tomorrow at three. But no longer than three hours."
He hung up, leaving you feeling a tad bit better. You looked forward to the next day. Hopefully, he wouldn't act indifferent to you.
_
Jaemin sat in your usual spot at the library. He was on his phone, leg crossed over his lap leisurely. You walked up to him and took a seat beside him without a word. Seeing you had arrived, he put his phone away and turned to you. "What are we studying?"
You took out your books and opened them. "This."
Jaemin glanced over the material. No wonder you'd flunked your test. He sighed, placing the textbook between you two. Without wasting a second, he began tutoring you.
No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn't pay attention. You were too busy staring at his face, more specifically his lips. They way he'd lick them ever so often made butterflies soar in your stomach. He'd run his hand through his fluffy hair and adjust his glasses, letting your mind run wild. Jaemin didn't seem to notice your lack of focus. You figured he didn't really care. He kept glancing at his watch. It was like he was waiting for your time with him to come to an end.
Much to your dismay, eventually it did.
"I'll send you a picture of some practice material. You can use that to prepare better," he concluded, getting up from his seat. You quickly stuffed your books in your bag and ran after him.
"Jaemin wait!"
He paused. "What," he asked as he turned around. He sounded disinterested. "Can we talk," you asked? Jaemin sighed and shrugged. "What do you wanna talk about," he questioned, placing his hands in his pockets. "About what happened at my place last week."
Jaemin tensed up. "It was a mistake. I think we both understood that."
You shook your head. "I don't know Jaemin, I'm not sure I did."
He furrowed his brows. "What do you mean?"
"The more I thought about it the more I realized that I wouldn't have kissed you unless I wanted to. Not just that but you wouldn't have let it go so far if you thought it was wrong."
He seemed at a loss for words.
"When you called me cute, you did mean it in an 'I have a crush on you' type of way." You didn't need an answer for him to know you were correct.
"What are you trying to say y/n," he asked, sounding defeated.
"That I like you," you admitted. Jaemin's eyes widened. "And that you like me too," you added.
Jaemin bit his lip. "Okay, so then why were we acting like we hated each other for so long?"
You shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe because you overthink everything and I'm a big pussy."
Jaemin chuckled and slung his arm around your shoulder. "I'm sorry about that babe."
You cringed at the nickname. "Don't 'babe' me. We're not dating. Not yet."
Jaemin rolled his eyes. "Does it really need to be that formal?"
You nodded adamantly. "Of course it does."
He sighed. "Fine. Will you go out with me y/n?"
You smiled and shook your head. "I'd rather not Jaemin."
"Yeah whatever," he said with a scoff, leading you outside.
_
As soon as you were past your door Jaemin's lips were on yours in an instant. He pushed you against the wall, wrapping your legs around his waist. You held onto his shoulders, sighing into his mouth. "I missed you so fucking much," he muttered, stumbling to your room.
He dropped you on your bed and hovered over you, staring down at you somberly before kissing you again. His lips didn't stay on yours for too long, trailing down to your jaw and then your neck. You tugged at his shirt, urging him to take it off. When he did, you stared at his chiseled body in awe. "I didn't know you worked out."
Jaemin chuckled at your comment and pulled your own shirt off. He flicked the tiny bow on your bra with an amused grin. "This is cute."
You nudged his arm timidly. "I wasn't exactly preparing myself for this moment."
He said nothing further and latched his lips to your neck once again. Running your fingers through his hair, you craned your neck to the side to give him more access. He gently sucked on your skin, not too harsh that it would leave marks. You sighed and fiddled with the waistband of his sweatpants. "Do you want it off," he asked quietly, lips ghosting over yours. You nodded, biting your lip when he pushed his pants down.
His member came into sight, making your mouth water.
Taking your hand in his, he brought it to his cock. Your fingers wrapped around his girth instinctively. Jaemin suck in a breath as he made you stroke his length. His hand slipped past your panties, fingers toying with your clit. You gasped and spread your legs wider, loving the way his calloused fingertips felt. Tightening your grip around his cock, you jerked him off earnestly. In turn, Jaemin began rubbing quick circles into your sensitive bundle of nerves.
Letting go of his member, you hastily pushed your pants down your legs. Jaemin peeled your panties off of you, marveling at the sight of your glistening pussy. "Don't just stare," you complained, shutting your legs, "do something."
Jaemin wordlessly, spread your legs apart and settled down between your thighs. He glanced up at your through his lashes, asking for permission before licking a stripe up your folds. You pushed your hips against his mouth, eyes falling shut when he repeated the action. Holding onto your thighs, he nipped and sucked at your clit, groaning every time your bucked your hips into his face. You gripped onto his hair, tugging at his roots. Jaemin's fingers prodded at your slit, slowly entering your walls. He curled them up, making your arch your back in delight. It felt so good. He knew exactly what he was doing.
With his tongue skillfully moving over your clit and his fingers continuously pumping in and out of you, it didn't take long for you to feel a familiar knot in your stomach. You sat up, pulling his mouth off of your cunt. "I need you to fuck me now." Your voice was hushed, breathless because of how much you'd moaned. Jaemin's eyes had darkened considerably. He pushed you down on your back again and pressed his tip to your entrance.
Jaemin felt bigger than he looked. Not that you were complaining or anything, it just took a while to get used to. He made sure you were comfortable before slowly starting to pound into you.
You grabbed his arms as he fastened his pace, head falling back in ecstasy. Shallow breaths left his parted lips. "You feel so good," he muttered, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His breath was hot on your skin. You wrapped your arms around his neck, humming in response. You were close. Jaemin could tell.
Gripping onto your waist, he went faster, slamming his cock into you as he chased your highs. You cried out his name, squeezing your eyes shut. Your walls clenched tightly around his length, your orgasm crashing down on you intensely. Soon enough, he twitched inside you. His thighs stilled, hips snapping into you one last time before thick ropes of his cum shot into your walls. He let out a pleased groan, voice deep and raspy.
"That was amazing," you breathed, pushing your hair out of your face as Jaemin moved off of you. He smiled and tugged his pants back on, joining you under the covers. "I'm glad you enjoyed it." Jaemin pulled you into his side, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. You laughed to yourself. "What is it," Jaemin asked. You shook your head, looking at him. "To think this all started after you agreed to tutor me."
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DAYDREAMING!AU || new reality
;request: rn i’m obsessed with your writing & the daydreaming!reader<33 but i also love angst so what would happen if she ended up getting really hurt protecting another student - hope that wasn’t too weird.. again, i love your writing !!
note: ahaha, i am glad that a lot of people enjoy my daydreaming!reader works; she is also one of my babies as well >< and originally i wasn't going to do this cause i had no idea on what to write - but i had managed to layout a rocky plan before i got some bursts of inspiration lol. ended up becoming too loud though ><” I am sorry for that~
pronouns: she/her
daydreaming!reader masterlist
“There is a chance that she will never wake up from this.”
Shoko gave the others in the room a concerned glance as she glanced up from her tablet, hating how silent it was besides the quiet beeping of the machines around the occupied bed. Laying in the bed was Y/N, a breathing tube carefully inserted into her mouth with the ventilator beside her being the only thing that’s keeping her oxygen levels normal. “The amount of damage she took was quite large. And even though she had managed to regulate quite a strong barrier of Curse Energy around her at all times, it wasn’t enough to brace her for the impact of her being slammed into the build.”
The mission shouldn’t have ended this way - the first and second year students were sent on a mission to deal with a few Finger Bearers that had appeared in the city due to the lack of sorcerers on duty at the time. They were under the care of a few First Grade sorcerers, all hand-picked by Yaga-sensei to ensure the safety of the kids.
However, things rarely go to plan in the jujutsu world.
Yaga-sensei sighs softly as he leans back into his seat, his eyes glancing over at his student that was clearly battling to stay alive. Guilt started to eat him from the inside out, since this was technically his fault. Sure, everyone knows that there is no way that you can go on a mission without enduring some casualties. But the fact is that this was not what he had expected for the outcome to be.. “I am going to kill them myself.”
“G-Gojo-san!” Ijichi hissed out as he glances over at the white haired shaman in the room with wide eyes, the man having been leaning against the wall opposite from the hospital bed with his arms crossed over his chest. His head was tipped forward with an almost too casual expression on his face, yet anyone can tell the barely suppressed anger that lurked underneath. An anger that was only a few moments away from exploding. “You can’t - don’t say things like that!”
“And you expect me to sit back as they failed to save the children?” Gojo asks in a loud voice, effectively squashing whatever confidence Ijichi had built up inside of him. The hand that was resting arm tightened, the veins at the back of his pale hands started to protrude out as Gojo’s anger started to show itself. “I need a good explanation on how their incompetency put our student in this state. 5 First Grades against 3 Special Grade Curses? With 7 talented students by their side and they still can’t handle it? Give me a fucking break.”
“Not everyone can be like you, Satoru.” Yaga-sensei finally mumbles out as he rests his forehead into his hand, fingers pinching at the space between his eyes tiredly. “If anything, it was my fault. I had underestimated the brains of the Finger Bearers, and because of that, all my calculations were wrong. I put retrieving the fingers over numbers. So if you want to find someone to be angry to, the blame is on me.”
The room went quiet after Yaga’s explanation, both Ijichi and Shoko sharing a caution look before casting a glance over at the blindfolded man. After a few tensed moments Gojo pushed himself off the wall and walked out of the hospital room without another word, closing the door behind him quietly; a stark contrast to his usual habit of either slamming the shoji doors too hard, or leaving it open completely.
That out of character move definitely had Shoko sighing in concern. “That idiot...I hope he’s not going to do anything stupid.” She mumbles softly before she turned back to face the young girl laying on the bed, quietly reaching over to brush her fingers through the soft strands that had fallen over Y/N sleeping face. “You better wake up soon, sweetheart...I worry that this might finally push him over the edge.”
Occupying each seat outside of the small waiting area in the infirmary were the other students; wounds bandaged, yet their anxiety was palpable in the air. They had heard what had happened, yet were sheild by the other sorcerers who had called for back-up. Last they heard of Y/N was a scream before what sounded like a building collasping. “Do you think Y/N-senpai is alright?”
Yuji was the first one who dared to break the silence, glancing up from his clenched hands before him to glance at the others. “I mean...it must have been bad, since she was charted off as soon as back up arrived.” Yuji mutters softly as he tightened his fingers together, trying to stop them from shaking. He felt awful - if only he had spared a few seconds to glance over at his senpai, maybe she wouldn’t be in the condition she’s in now. “It’s not every day you’re rushed straight to Ieiri-sensei’s office...”
“...If there is one idiot who can pull through, it’ll be her,” Maki mumbles out quietly after awhile, looking away from her kouhai to stare down at the wooden floors of the building they were in. “Even if it’s bad, she always pulls through it...there is no reason why she can’t do it this time.” She mutters softly just as a pair of footsteps came towards them, causing everyone to look up at the approaching figure.
Gojo paused when he spotted the others, the question they wanted to ask was clear as day. And for once, Gojo wished that he was able to reassure them like he always does. For him to be able to put up the act that everything was alright, that everyone will be okay.
But he knew that it’ll do no justice if he did. “Is she...is she alright?”
The question that fell from Yuta’s mouth was left hanging in the air for a few moments, the sliver of hope they had moments ago slowly dimming with each passing moment. Quietly Gojo slipped his hands into his pockets, his blindfolded eyes downcast; too scared to see their reactions. For once, he wished that he was not the one to break the news to the students. “Y/N-chan...might not recovery from this.”
His words sent shock waves through the students, yet he balled his fists up in his pockets to continue with what he had to say. “She hit her head too hard...and if she was not subconsciously protecting herself with Cursed Energy all the time, the impact would have caused her skull to crack in two on impact. But it still took a lot out of her person, and Shoko said that-”
The sound of a metal chair being thrown backwards echoed across the room, causing Gojo to look up just in time to see Yuta standing up with wide eyes as he hastily tried to calm his friend. “Maki, you need to calm down.” He tried to reason with the girl, who had her backed turn to the group, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her jacket. “This isn’t your fault-” Yuta tried to reason, only to pause when Maki just silently started to walk away, leaving with no more but a loud slam of the main door that echoed down the hallway once more.
For a few moments no one said anything else, yet the first one to move was Megumi; who turned to face his sensei. “Can we visit her?” He mumbled out quietly, to which Gojo just glanced over at him with a slightly raised eyebrow. “Usually people talk to someone who is in a coma. Might jolt them awake or give them encouragement to fight harder...I am sure Y/N-senpai will get lonely if no one visited her..”
“Why not?” Gojo said after a few moments of thought, giving his students what he hope was a reassuring smile as he turns a little; nodding down the hallway. “Shoko managed to stabalise her condition. Just make sure to sanatise your hands at the door.”
Quietly the group of students followed behind their silent sensei, keeping close to one another as if they were trying to give each other comfort. The walk to the room seemed too far, the door seeming to grow further and further away from them with each step. It was if it was trying to stop them from seeing the truth; yet they didn’t stop. Yet soon they found themselves standing before the smooth door; the single grey name plaque with her name written in black resting in the silver plaque holder. “Right, here we are.”
After everyone was handed a blob of hand sanitiser and had wiped it onto their skin, the small group entered after a quiet knock to the door. “Y/N-chan, I’ve returned with the others...minus one, that is.” Gojo hummed out in delight as he made his way towards the bed, a silent gesture for the others to do the same. “You know Maki-chan though. Once she finishes beating herself up, she’ll come running back. She always does~”
Quietly the others made their way into the room, eyes scanning over the beeping machines and many wires connected to the sleeping girl. “Y/N...senpai..” Nobara mumbles out in shock, her eyes resting the ventilator; not believing that a girl that was bounding about the college earlier today now needed help to do something as simple as breathing. “No way...there is...”
A warm hand rest on the top of her head, Megumi quietly giving her a form of comfort whilst his wide eyes stared at the bed before him in shock. No one dared take a step forward, like they were standing on the other side of a fragile glass bridge that was moments away from breaking. “Y/N..”
Gojo felt the hole started to eat inside of him as he watches how his students were staring at their fellow classmate in shock. Quietly he settled down in the only seat at the corner of the room, watching from the shadows at how the others will react to seeing her in such a state. The first person to snap out of it was Yuta, who quietly places a hand on Toge’s shoulders before giving it a light squeeze. “Shall we go and say hello?”
Quietly Yuta made his way towards the bed, only to hesitate one step away from grabbing onto her hand. He stared at the frail hand, a simple IV needle carefully taped on the back of her palm for a few moments; a clear look of uncertainty on his face. Yet he took a deep breath, and with a trembling hand, carefully took Y/N’s cold hand in his. “I...Hi, Y/N...” Yuta mumbles quietly into the hospital room, voice barely heard over the constant beeping of the heart monitor. “Sorry...we took awhile to visit...and sorry that Maki isn’t here...I am sure she’ll drop by when she is ready though.”
The only response he got was the sound of the steady beep of the heart monitor, to which he just tighten his grip ever so slightly on Y/N’s unmoving hand. He could hear the soft giggle that Y/N would let out at his words, and if he felt tears welling up in his eyes as he hears her voice bouncing around inside his head.
“It’s alright, Yuta-san! I am sure you were busy before that. And I know Maki-chan will come after you leave - but you didn’t hear that secret from me~”
The silence of the hospital room made Yuta sick to the stomach, the idea that he might never hear Y/N’s voice again started to really sink in. Her usually warm and familiar touch felt cold and lifeless, causing Yuta to carefully tuck her hand underneath her hospital blanket; as if he was trying to warm it up once more. “I...I am going to go grab her favourite stuffed animal from her room. I am sure she’d love to have something of comfort whilst she’s here...if you’ll excuse me.”
Without another word Yuta just walked out of the room quietly, Yuji being the only one turning to watch his senpai leave with a look of concern. Out of everyone Yuji was definitely the one who seemed to be able to hold himself together the most, so it was no surprise when he was the one that went next. “Yo, Y/N-senpai,” Yuji greeted quietly as he walked towards the hospital bed, easily dodging all the wires and such. After all, this wasn’t his first time visiting someone he cares for in the hospital. “Can you hear me? I hope you can - or not Fushiguro might lecture me for being loud.”
The other sorcerer couldn’t even find his voice whilst Yuji continues on; his voice soft yet soothing as he looks down at his senpai with nothing more but a soft smile. “I know you’re trying your hardest go come back to us, and you’d probably tell us that we’re not the ones to blame. That you’re a big girl now, and things like this happen all the time.” Yuji continues, the only indication to his change of mood was the slight quiver that was hard to hide. Yet Yuji continued on anyway. “I hope you know we miss you...and we’re worried sick that you’re in the state you are now. But I know that you need some time to rest up, and soon you’ll be back on your feet again, right? ‘Cause..b-because that’s how you’ve always been.”
Silence enveloped the room once more, with Yuji just not sure on what else to say to her as he stared at her pale face. The other three in the room sort of just huddled together, all of them unsure of what to say to her. They weren’t the best with emotional words - beside Toge, who usually doesn’t use words at all - so asking them to keep their tone in check whilst referring to their unconscious classmate is a little too much for them.
So after awhile Yuji decided to lead them out of the hospital room, giving Gojo a parting smile before he closes the door behind him. Leaving him alone as he stared at the slumbering figure of his student as he rests his elbows on his parted knees. Quietly he rests his head in his hands, eyes closed as he tried to push back the light migraine that was coming on. He hates that it is his duty to break the news to the others - her parents, her elders. Heck, he has to give a call to Nanami and Utahime to tell them the bad news.
If it was anything else, he wound be more than excited to blow their phones up. But this? He wishes that the duty was handed to someone else - because he himself doesn’t even believe that this was happening in the first place.
He wishes that this was all just a terrible nightmare.
Maki quietly pushed the window open as she climbed in from the roof, the doors of halls of the infirmary long going silent; cicadas chirping away in the night sky. Maki quietly stuffed her hands into the pockets of her hoodie, eyes racking over Y/N’s sleeping form, to the amount of machines that were working by her side to make sure that she’s alive. “Hey, idiot...I’ve arrived.”
Quietly she made her way towards Y/N’s bedside, her eyes clouding over with an unreadable emotion. If she was being honest, she didn’t know how to react right now. On one hand, she was pissed - she is pissed off because she could have done something to help Y/N. Maybe if she was just faster, just a bit more aware, maybe if she was training to try harder. Maybe if she can just try harder-
A loud slap sounded across the room, Maki having pulled her hand out of her pocket to slap across her cheek hard to snap out of the spiraling thoughts. The burning sting on her cheek reminded her to return to reality before she started to trash the room out of anger, something that she and Y/N had been working on for some time now. Y/N would always say, “You should never turn to anger and violence to deal with your issues!”
Maki wonders what her reaction would be if she had saw Maki slapping herself so hard that there was a light handprint on the side of her cheek. “You’re so annoying, you know that?”
With a tired sigh Maki settled down in the seat that Gojo had occupied earlier in the day, keeping her eyes on the steady heart monitor; her eyes following the spike that indicates the faint heartbeat of Y/N. “Who the hell knew that it took an entire building to really get you hurt.” Maki sigh as she tore her eyes away from the screen, looking down at her boots quietly; examining all the scuffs and scratches on marring the smooth leather. “Call me stupid, but I really thought that it’d take more than that. Remember when you had jumped out the window of the 10th floor and left with no more but a bruise? You were crying about it ‘cause you couldn’t wear dresses for about 2 weeks.”
Maki let out a tired laugh at the memory of finding Yuta trying to reassure a crying Y/N when she found the bruise on her knee; Yuta just patting her head with the most amused look on his face whilst she cried her eyes out at the idea that she can’t wear her cute dresses until it cleared up. “Imagine what will happen when you wake up from this? God, that is going to be a pain.”
A soft sigh left Maki’s lips as she glances over at the stuffed sheep that Yuta had brought from her room; along with a few more random stuffed animals that surrounded her head like a halo. This caused her to smile sadly as she rests her head on her shoulder, watching her for a few minutes without saying anything. Maki had always been bad with words and emotions; with all the things she had gone through when she was younger. Wording how she feels and emotions are not Maki’s favourite thing to deal with, since she wants to keep this badass, strong woman front she has on all the time to prove something to her elders.
“You better wake up from this, or not I am going to kick your ass.” Maki mutters after a few moments, getting up with a tired sigh before she casts her another glance at Y/N. Without missing a beat, she reaches over to brush strands of hair away from her face, warm hand resting on her head for a few moments before she places a few parting pats on her head; something she had always done when she needs to leave for a mission or a meeting outside of school.
“‘Night, brat. Wake up soon, okay?” Maki mutters, and with a final sigh she made her way towards the window she climbed in once more, quietly shutting it behind her after she hauled herself over the railing. It was only in the dead of the night that Maki quietly lets her tears fall, biting her lip hard to stop whatever sounds that were threatening to leave her lips.
Because at the end of the day she is stubborn, and refuses to believe that this might be her new reality.
A week had passed since the day that the others found out that Y/N had fallen into a coma of a sorts, and everyone would visit at least once just to see if there is any sight of change. That there might be a sign that she was going to wake up soon. And there were slight changes; a few days after she had been admitted she was allowed to get off the ventilator and rely on oxygen instead. But she was still in bad shape.
Nanami tries to make time to drop by to visit as well, coming over to quietly read pages of the book that he was reading. Whenever Y/N was sick, she would call Nanami over the phone and ask if the man can read to her; something about how she finds comfort in his voice that puts her at ease. And since Ieiri had encouraged them to talk to her more for stimulation, Nanami takes the time to read to her after a long day of work. It brought him some comfort as well, listening to the constant beeping of the heart monitor and the humming of the other machines around her.
Gojo would sometimes drop by as well, only to berate Nanami for his ‘boring’ book choices; and an unconscious Y/N has to endure two adults arguing about book choices and how Gojo’s titles are definitely not appropriate to even bring onto school grounds.
Besides the occasional argument, sometimes Gojo will prop his phone up against a vase of flowers that Yuji brings so that Utahime can FaceTime him; the students from the Kyoto side being able to see and talk to the slumbering Y/N. For the most part, everyone was shocked that she was in the state she was in; having never expected such a bright and talkative person can fall into such a state.
The most distraught one was definitely Todo, who had almost jumped out of his seat and make a full on dash towards Tokyo if it wasn’t for Noritoshi and Mai joining together to restrain the man, along with Principal Gakuganji threating to hold him back from their planned trip to Tokyo the following week that had him calming down.
But barely - the man is still more than ready to just up and run across the country just so he can be closer to his ‘beloved Y/N-chan’.
Every day, without fail, Toge will come into her hospital room with a new accessory to pull her hair back into; carefully brushing her hair out and applying dry shampoo so it wasn’t greasy to the touch. Once he was satisifed he’d carefully style her hair back so it didn’t get in the way of her checkups, taking his time with everything so he gets to spend more time with her. He doesn’t say much, he usually finds that doesn’t whenever he is around her; so he takes his time when he does her hair in hopes that she can feel that he is there for her.
Yuta and Megumi will find time after classes to go and visit her together, telling her about everything that had happened whilst she is asleep. Sometimes Nobara will visit as well, must for the most time she’d come alone in the evening after dinner to just rant to her about everything that she found annoying that happened over the day. Nobara usually stay until Ieiri comes to kick her out, hoping that Maki might come in as well to visit Y/N.
But Maki never does - yet everyone knows that Maki finds the time in her day to go and visit her like everyone else. However, no one dared to ask her how or when she does it. They’ve accepted that it was probably a sensitive subject to her, and that it’s off limits to ask her unless you want her to ignore you for the rest of the day. Gojo had learnt it the hard way when he had teased her, only to be thrown out the window of their classroom by an annoyed Maki.
Even his Infinity is no match for that woman’s wrath.
Days soon led into weeks, with slow but not so encouraging signs of improvement from the young girl. The elders of her clan and her parents had visited the college as soon as they can, and had kept tabs with every single thing that is going on with her. There was no denying the fear of her suddenly relapsing once more, and soon it will become too much for her parents to bear. The idea of keeping Y/N around, knowing that she is in so much pain, just for their selfish want of keeping her alive was a reality they want to avoid.
The once vibrant and lively campus soon turned gloomy; the hallways of the school quiet without the familiar sound of bunny-themed slippers running across its worn-out flooring. The chime of a familiar giggle was missing in the air, along with a dreamy voice that just never seems to stop; no matter what time of the day it is. There were days where the others forget that Y/N was not there to make dinner for the night, or she wasn’t there when they want to ask her opinion about something. Her room, which once served as a sanctuary for the students who can’t sleep at night, now became too painful to even walk past on certain days.
Yet everyone tried their hardest to go on with their days, knowing that it was what Y/N wanted them to do. If they were to allow their grief to consume them whole, they knew the delicate routine they had rebuilt would crumble before them. And if there is one thing they can do to keep Y/N’s memory alive, is to live their lives to the fullest. To try and cherish each and every day, no matter how painful reality is without her by their side.
They have to try, for her sake.
It wasn’t until a month passed when Yuta had came running into the lunch hall, looking like he had seen a ghost as he tried to catch his breath. “Okkotsu-senpai?” Megumi asks in concern as he looks over at the older man, putting his tray down to try and give his panting senpai a hand. “Are you-” He asked, only to have Yuta put a hand up to stop him as he took a few deep gulps of air.
“A-Awake...Y/N...Y/N is awake.”
Within a few seconds the students were sprinting across campus, none of them believing what Yuta had said until they have see it for themselves. What is usually a 10 minute walk from the lunch hall took about four minutes with them sprinting, possibly annoying half of the cleaners of the school that they were breaking the no running rule. Yet they didn’t stop even at their annoyed outcries, the simple wooden door of the infirmary almost coming off its hinges at how hard Maki had thrown it open.
Maki was the one who pushed the hospital room door open, causing the people in the room to jump in shock. Including Y/N, who had let out a soft squeak of shock; her voice hoarse from not using it for so long. The others blinked in shock at the sight of Y/N’s bright eyes meeting theirs at the doorway, ones that blinked before she gave them the biggest smile she can muster.
“H-Hi.” Y/N mumbles softly, to which Nanami just gave her a rare smile as he gently rubs her back, Gojo smirking softly as he recorded the reactions of the others by the door. He had gotten over the shock a few moments ago. “Don’t strain yourself, Y/N-chan. Remember what Ieiri-sensei said about straining your voice.” The blonde man hummed before he turned his blue eyes over at the shocked students as well. “And that goes to you too. If you all stress her out, I am not against tossing you all out.”
Y/N made a noise and turned to try and reassure the older man, not noticing how the others were staring at her in shock. The first person to move was Maki, whose eyes look suspicious wet as she stormed into the room. “I am going to kill you.” She growled out loudly, to which Y/N jumped before she held her arms out for protection; feeling a shiver of fear go up her spine. Yet before she can make a move to stop her, Maki suddenly wrapped her up in a hug, the arms that Y/N held out to try and pacify her angry classmate freezing from the unnatural reaction from Maki.
Y/N blinks for a few moments before she smiles softly and wraps Maki up in her arms as well, gently patting her head as Maki silently wets her shoulder with her tears. “I know.” Y/N mumbles out softly before her eyes met the others, giving them a soft smile as she gently gestures to the others to enter her room. Soon there was just a huge ball of crying teenagers hugging one another on Y/N’s hospital bed; Gojo and Nanami having moved aside to give them more space for their reunion as they watched on from the other side of the room. “Should we stop them?”
“Nah, we might get murdered if we try.” Gojo said with a hum as he grins over the sound of intelligible crying, looking over at Nanami who had a ghost of a smile on his lips at the sight. “Besides, this is great content. I never had a video of Maki crying before.” Gojo admitted, to which Nanami’s smile dropped as he looked over at him in annoyance.
“Why am I not surprised at all?”
© roscgcld — all rights reserved to me, rose, the author and creator of these works. do not repost/translate/claim my work as yours on any platform
#daydreaming!reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen imagines#jujutsu kaisen imagine#jjk imagines#jjk imagine#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen fluff#gojo satoru#jjk gojo x reader#jjk itadori yuji#jjk itadori x reader#jjk fushiguro megumi#jjk fushiguro x reader#jjk kugisaki nobara#jjk nobara x reader#jjk maki zenin#jjk maki x reader#jjk inumaki to/ge#jjk inumaki x reader#jjk okkotsu yuta#jjk okkotsu yuuta#jjk okkotsi x reader#gojo sensei#jjk nanami#jjk nanami x reader
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Prompt: tony can’t get enough of Steve’s strength and Steve loves it bc he’s still quite self conscious of his body? 💚
I realized halfway through writing this that you probably meant for a canon-compliant fic, but I was already so deep into the worldbuilding for this little science fiction fic (seriously, you don't even know how much unnecessary worldbuilding I did) so I kept with it
Also on ao3 here!
~
“Steve!” Tony hollers through the communicator. Steve glances up from the board game he’s playing with Natasha and Clint and over at where the communicator hangs from the ship’s wall. He still doesn’t really understand the technology behind the communicators even after a year of being awake, but they’re hung all over the Avenger’s Shieldand he won’t deny that they’re useful.
“I’m here,” he says at a normal volume, knowing that JARVIS will easily pick up what he’s saying and transmit it to Tony. Tony’s just being loud because he’s always loud and because he’s down in the engine room of the ship with all its noises from the conversion of stardust into energy.
“Great! I need your muscley goodness down here like yesterday.”
Steve hides a smile and stands, passing his pieces off to Clint, who’s losing worse than either Steve or Natasha. “Here, you can have mine. Not sure how long I’ll be down there.”
Clint’s eyes narrow and Steve tries not to fidget under the cybernetic enhancements. When he went into the ice nearly three hundred years ago, mankind didn’t even dream of space travel, at least not realistic space travel, and now they’ve got colonies on galaxies as far away from their own, it makes his head spin. Humans have peace treaties with over two thousand alien civilizations. And mechanical body enhancements, meant to augment humans for travel and work and sometimes sheer entertainment, are as common as breathing. But Steve, with his serum-induced enhancements, is somehow still the odd one out.
“You know,” Clint says, “you don’t have to help him out if you don’t want to. Tony means well but that doesn’t mean he can’t be abrasive sometimes.”
“I don’t mind,” Steve says truthfully. Everyone else on this ship seems to dance around his non-cybernetic enhancements—and around the fact that he’d been frozen in the ice caps, now stretching as far south as Florida, for three hundred years—but Tony never once seemed to care. He’s thrilled about Steve’s enhancements—no one else on the ship is quite as strong as Steve is, not since Thor joined the crew of the Milano—both because of what Steve can help him with and because of what the serum means for scientific advancement, though Steve hasn’t let Bruce or Yinsen take any of his blood yet.
He heads down into the belly of the ship, pausing once at one of the portholes to look out at the stars flashing by them. It still amazes him that humans have achieved all of this (and horrifies him that they achieved this but left their own planet behind).
Tony’s “lair” (as Clint calls it) is located at the very bottom of the ship. It’s here that Tony holds his court, making sure that the engines that run the ship are still intact and running smoothly, tinkering with other projects that the other crewmembers give to him, and designing improved systems for the Shield, whether that’s comms, mechanical, or even medical. Tony does it all. According to Natasha, Tony, who’s one of the few nonhumans on the ship, was once a member of high society on his home planet, Aur’a, but left it all behind to join the Shield and travel the galaxy.
Steve opens the door and is immediately met with a wave of heat. It’s always hot down here. Tony says it’s because of the celestial energy, that stars run so hot that even residue energy is still too hot for unenhanced humans to handle. Fortunately, neither Steve nor Tony are unenhanced, and Steve would be willing to bet that the reason it’s so hot in the engine room today is because Tony is working with raw stardust.
The copper pipes running the room are too close to avoid bumping into for someone as large as Steve, so he doesn’t even bother trying to avoid them, letting them brush against his skin as he follows the sound of Tony humming. When he’d first joined the crew, he’d been worried about Tony complaining that Steve couldn’t move around the engine room without knocking something over, but Tony has never once complained, only just made easygoing jokes about bulls in china shops and told him that the pipes are built to withstand forces a lot stronger than Steve. It had gone a long way toward helping him feel comfortable in the space and now he spends a lot of time down here, talking with Tony about the mechanics of the ship, even though a lot of it goes over his head.
He ducks underneath one of the pipes and rounds a corner to find Tony sitting on a bench, carefully chipping at a speck of stardust on the benchtop in front of him. Tony once told him that it only takes a miniscule amount of stardust to power the ship for an entire week, which is good because stardust is difficult to mine. Tony’s goggles are perched on top of his nose, giving him an owlish appearance. Steve finds it adorable, but he waits until Tony is done with the chisel before walking over to drop a kiss on top of his hair.
The rest of the crew doesn’t know that they’ve been seeing each other for a month. After their first kiss, Steve had asked if it would be okay to keep it quiet a little longer. Steve’s brain is still firmly convinced at times that they’re in the forties, so the idea that he can date a man and have it be as accepted as dating a woman is still a little foreign to him. Tony had been more than accommodating though, which is only one of the reasons Steve loves him so much.
“Oh!” Tony exclaims, clearly startled. “Didn’t realize you were already here.” He turns, pushing his goggles up to his hair. “Did you get even more muscley since the last time I saw you?”
“Tony, you saw me this morning,” Steve says amusedly.
“Right you are, Capsicle, but I still stand by what I said,” Tony shoots back with a cheeky wink. He runs his hands over Steve’s biceps, making a low purring sound under his breath. Steve just barely manages to hear it over the sound of the engines, and it makes him smile.
Sometimes, he still feels self-conscious about his size. Spending most of his life looking and feeling one way only to change in only seconds had been disorienting, and he hadn’t had much of a chance to get used to his size before he’d been thrown into the war and then frozen in the ice. Tony’s always good to talk to though when he needs someone to remind him that this is okay, that he isn’t taking up too much room just by existing. Somehow, he always manages to get to the heart of Steve’s insecurities and allay them.
He indulges in Tony’s warm touch for a little longer before asking, “So what did you need me for?”
Tony perks up, spinning on his heel and picking up the speck of stardust with his bare hand. “I need your help opening the converter door so I can toss this in. Something must have gotten damaged during the battle with the Hydra’s Scales, because it’s not opening for me.”
“Huh,” Steve says, following Tony through the warren of copper pipes toward the energy converter. He has no idea how Tony knows where he’s going without a map. Steve still sometimes needs a map and he’s lived on this ship for a year. “That’s not something you can fix?”
“Not with what I’ve got on ship. I’ll ask Fury if we can stop in Knowhere later this week. They’ve probably got what I need.”
“Wow, Tony Stark admitting he can’t jury-rig a solution from his lab. Hell must have frozen over,” Steve comments, grinning when Tony turns to scowl at him.
“You shut your mouth,” Tony growls.
“Or what?”
Tony’s eyes turn dark and heated. He slinks closer to Steve, runs his fingers up Steve’s chest, and purrs, “Or I’ll shut it for you.”
Steve’s brain shuts down. “Uh…”
“But not right now,” Tony says abruptly, tweaking Steve’s nipple through his shirt. He spins back around and marches off, leaving Steve floundering in his wake. He gapes after him for a second before hurrying to catch up.
“You,” he says, carefully bumping Tony’s shoulder with his—he doesn’t want Tony to drop the stardust after all—“are a menace.”
“That’s me: mechanic and professional menace,” Tony says cheerfully.
They stop beside the energy converter. Steve can immediately see what Tony means by there being something wrong with it. The converter is made out of some sort of transparent material—Steve doesn’t know what—so he can see right in to where something is twisted in the converter itself, partially fusing the door shut. Even Tony, with all his abilities as an Aurum, can’t reach into an active energy converter without burning his hand to ashes, and the converter has to stay active or they’ll be dead in space, so they’ll have to stop somewhere where he can make the necessary repairs.
“See?” Tony says. “I need someone who can muscle that open for me.”
“Well, I’ve definitely got muscles.”
“Mmm, yes you do,” Tony murmurs. Steve wonders if Tony’s thinking about the same thing he is: that time he pinned Tony to the walls of their shared bunk and—well, now’s not the time to be thinking about that.
He grabs onto the wheel and wrenches it to the left. Tony sure hadn’t been kidding; the wheel doesn’t budge at all. He applies more of his strength, muscles bulging. Under the squeal of metal, he hears Tony’s breath catch, and he grins saucily at him. Tony sticks his tongue out and gestures at the wheel again.
“Come on, Captain Crunch. Put your back into it.”
Steve, having no idea what Captain Crunch is supposed to be a reference to, makes a mental note to ask Tony about it once they’re done here. For now, though, he uses all of his strength and slowly—so slowly—the wheel turns, protesting the entire way. Eventually, he gets it open, letting another blast of heat into the engine room. Tony tosses the stardust in. It flares in the heat of the converter, setting off beautiful gold and purple sparks. Steve closes the door. It closes a lot easier than it opened. Tony hums thoughtfully at it.
“Well, that narrows things down,” he says, once the door is fully closed.
“What, that it was easier to close than it was to open?”
“Mmhmm. Only a few things that could be. Probably need to tell the One-Eyed Pirate though that we have to stop on Xandar instead of Knowhere. I don’t think Fujikawa will have what I need. Steve, don’t let me forget to tell Fury the course change.”
“Got it.”
“And thanks, by the way. Definitely couldn’t have done it without you.”
Steve glows at the praise. Maybe it’s silly, but it’s nice to be reminded that even in this oversized, clumsy body out of time, he’s still able to do some good. “Happy to help,” he says honestly.
They head back to Tony’s little work area, Tony eagerly chattering on about the project he’s working on for Natasha. Steve listens, fingers itching for the drawing tablet he’d left in the galley with Natasha and Clint. Tony is lovely when he’s animatedly talking about his inventions. Steve has half a dozen folders saved on his tablet, filled with nothing but different poses of Tony.
Tony leans up against the workbench and pulls Steve in, looping his hands around his neck. “Now, where were we earlier?” he hums, eyes dark.
“Careful,” Steve warns, bracing himself with hands on either side of Tony’s body. “I might crush you.”
“You might,” Tony agrees, though he doesn’t sound concerned at all. “And I might like that. All that coiled strength pinning me down? Oh, honey, yes.” He shivers, a small delighted smile curling his lips up.
“You just like me for my body,” Steve accuses. It isn’t the truth and he knows that. Tony loves him for many reasons; Steve’s strength is only one of them. But it’s fun to tease his lover and Tony is always happy when he does. He frequently worries that Steve is too serious.
“Yes, darling, that’s exactly it.” Tony kisses him lightly. Steve lets himself lean into Tony’s body a little more, grinning when Tony shudders against him.
He pulls away, tucking his head against the curve of Tony’s neck. “Thank you,” he breathes. He doesn’t know how Tony always knows when Steve is feeling self-conscious about his body, but he somehow does and he always comes up with something that’ll help.
Tony strokes his hair. “Anytime, darling. Anytime.”
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what was it like the first time Mc met Skull in the portal Au?
Is it story snippet time? I think it’s story snippet time.
The vent cover was loose.
You’d noticed, as soon as you’d rounded the corner. It didn’t matter that the facility was dark, quiet, deep in one of its night cycles... in the faint illumination of the safety screens and directional arrows left on, you picked up the silhouette of the cover. You were so familiar with the area of the lab around the room you slept in that you probably would’ve seen it anyway... but what immediately made all your attention snap to it was the fact that the glint of sleek metal in the darkness was, in fact, misaligned.
... Sans wanted everything neat. Sans wanted everything right. Red liked it that way, too, but Sans seemed to have the final say. And it showed- the entire facility was neat, angled, symmetrical and impossibly clean. It was so regimented and unnatural that you felt like an outlier yourself; a strange, curved, imperfect biological creature in a space that seemed to bleed robotic perfection from every corner.
... So... something about this one plating... this one vent cover, at a bad angle, tilted just against the grain...
... You were hyperfocused.
You moved over to it, bare feet cat-silent on the warm white floor, crouching down. You weren’t supposed to be out of your room at night, Sans didn’t like you wandering around when he was unaware, powered down for system maintenance and repairs... your fingers sealed around the loosened ends of the vent cover, and with the gentlest of tugs the whole thing came off, leaving a gaping hole in the wall large enough for you to crawl into.
...
It was like you had a fog, separating one half of your mind from the other. Every day in this strange lab was confusing- and when you tried to ask yourself normal questions, like “where am I?” or “how did I get here?” or “why do I have no memories before this place?” your brain supplied you with absolutely nothing. And not only that, it couldn’t even supply you with the concern you knew you should be experiencing... the fear, the panic, it wouldn’t come. It was the most paradoxical and horrible sensation... the feeling of knowing something was wrong, of knowing you should be scared, but something in your head just not letting you access it.
... Maybe that was why the sight of the hole in the wall, the gap in the artificially perfect world around you, made your heart skip in excitement instead of fear. Maybe that was why you normally would have stuck to what was safe and not done stupid shit like going into vents...
... But this time, you got on your hands and knees, and crawled right in.
You weren’t crawling for a very long time; after what couldn’t have even been a minute of moving in a straight line through the smooth metallic system, the dark space opened up above you, more than enough for you to stand up to your full height in. Your eyes were wide, childlike in wonder- unlike the rest of the facility, that at least seemed to try and fake an air of safety, this place behind the walls... every surface around you was dirty, stained and rusty, there were tubes and buttons and tangled wires sticking out of the floor and ceiling, the whole place was lit up with an unnerving orange glow that was leaking through slits in the flooring. The air was filled with a nasty tang, metallic and almost blood-like, heavy and claustrophobic...
... It was like you’d crawled into hell. Like you’d gone from the head of the facility to the entrance of the throat. Another world...
...
As your gaze lowered...
... There was something in the room with you.
The hairs on the back of your neck bristled. Near the other end of the room there was a large, metallic box, most likely containing important wiring of some kind. From where you were standing you could judge that it was about your shoulder height... pretty big.
... But it wasn’t the box that had your attention. It was what it was blocking from your view. A perfectly circular crimson light was peeking out from behind that box... a turret eye, bright and awake and alive, cutting through the murky coloured darkness. And the more you stared, the more you could make out, the more you could see the partially obscured hunched figure attached to the eye that was trained directly on you.
...
“H-hello?” You whispered.
...
“sh-ouldn_t.. be.here.”
... The voice was like nothing you’d ever heard. Deep, deathly deep, you could feel it in your chest like standing next to a speaker- vibrating in your stomach, the palms of your hands, even tingling along your scalp. It sounded... automated, jittering and autotuned and with inflections no human would use, but so clearly with thoughts and feelings behind it, the unmissable edge of somebody who’s cautious, afraid... a downright uncanny mix of machine and man.
“... Should you?” Your voice sounded so... weak. So biological. Your heart was pounding.
... The eye noticeably changed; the dot in the centre became a fraction wider. It took an odd shape, too... from your distance it... looked like a heart...?
A soft, low “... no_.”
“... Then that makes two of us. Right?”
...
The owner of the eye stood up.
He stood slowly, too. And as he did, the box he’d been crouched behind just got smaller, and smaller, and smaller... a beast, made of the facility’s leftovers. Large enough to crush you like a beetle. The dim orange light touched his silhouette to reveal thick tubes, misshapen metal plates, wires hanging off him like cut vines... a gaping cavity in his chest where a half-broken plasma motor was faintly humming and glowing. One of his hands looked vaguely humanoid but the other was just a badly affixed pincer claw... the plate on his face had been haphazardly cut away so his one red eye could see, and a skeletal nose shape had been carved into the centre. Everything about him was asymmetric, uneven, mismatched...
You opened your mouth-
[Bleep!]
...
It floated through the room. A light noise, like a phone notification. You took note of the fact that you couldn’t hear it echoing through the rest of the facility... something that was only heard in the backrooms, perhaps? It was a very gentle little sound, nothing more than a light jingle...
... Except he flinched like a gunshot had gone off, eye blinking out entirely. Immediately, he turned around- you let out a little “H-hey, wait!” and raised your arm but it didn’t stop him. In a few giant steps he’d completely disappeared around a corner, clanging sounds moving so much deeper into the metalworks in such a short amount of time that you found yourself immediately disoriented. How... you were just standing there, how did someone that huge and heavy move so fast?
...
You wanted to pursue. You wanted to chase him deep into the bowels of the lab, down where you weren’t ever supposed to go, where no light would reach... you wanted to so badly you’d already moved a few steps without realising.
... But at the same time, you felt like you’d done enough for one day. Your nose stung from the strange smells in the air, your eyes were straining in the orange darkness... you wanted to go to sleep, back to your relaxation chamber, to rest for now and figure out what the hell you’d just seen.
What the hell you’d just spoken to.
... You turned, and clambered back through the vent. It took no time at all to re-emerge back in the regular facility... back to the whiteness, the cleanliness, the perfect and fake.
...
You had no idea why he’d reacted the way he had to that sound. What did it mean? You trailed your hand along the wall as you walked, making your way through the halls back to your chamber, the floor smooth and faultless under your bare soles. Was it... some kind of warning? An alert system? Was he running toward something, or away fr-
“subject.”
- You almost jumped out of your fucking skin.
You were never sure where Sans’ voice was coming from. It always seemed to just spontaneously exist all around you, disembodied and impossible to describe, surrounding you on all sides as if emanating from the air in the building itself. No matter how hard you searched you could never seem to find any speakers on the cold, unfriendly white walls or floor... just further adding to the confusion and dream-like quality of this whole place. You clutched your chest, taking a little breath, trying to disguise the wild flinch that you’d just experienced.
“Y-yeah?” You said, smooth as always, and totally completely not-startled.
Sans always heard you, no matter how quietly you spoke- and judging by passing comments he’d made he always seemed to be able to see you and your expression. God, you hoped he couldn’t read the panic in your face.
“the facility is in night cycle.” Calm, emotionless, slightly autotuned, as per usual... but a little softer than the norm. “why are you out of your relaxation chamber?”
You glanced up at the nearest camera, a small black orb close to the ceiling with a gently blinking blue light.
...
“I-I can’t sleep.” Was all you could think of.
...
“... perhaps it will be easier to sleep... if you are reclined in a position, in which you can actually sleep. you should return to your chamber.”
“... I’m just walking around.” You kept moving, hoping he wouldn’t think about where you’d come from. “I mean... N-not all of us have a ‘go to sleep instantly’ button. I’m clearing my head. I’m fine, I'm on my way back anyway.”
...
“you’re stammering. your heart rate is elevated.”
Shit. Shit. No, it’s-
“... did you experience a nightmare?”
...
“O-oh. Yeah. Uhm...” You rubbed the back of your neck, eyes drifting down to the floor. “You know about those?”
“i have access to the combined entirety of human knowledge. yes, i am aware of nightmares.”
“W-well... yeah. Yes. I... had one. I’m walking it off.”
... A pause, on his part.
...
“... i can turn the lights back on. if... you’d like to walk around.”
“No thank you. It’ll just make me feel more awake.”
“i see. ... well. i need to complete some more system reboots. i will be partially offline again. if... you need me, just call.”
“Okay. Sure. I will.”
#llama writes#portal au#llama gets carried away: the series#its creepy robot time#its a biggun too! hhehe#feels nice to write again
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HIS BIRTHDAY IS TOO FAR BUT I can't remember if I sent the ask for him already though sooooo your sinfic on him
You give him his gift but it really wasn't the one he really wanted, those sad eyes again as he tried to convince you to go back to his room, you did agree to doing it again why not now then? It is his birthday afterall and he can already feel that wanting feeling bubbling in his stomach yet again
(This is for Kalim btw)
Oh, you’re just in time, Darling LOL This ask must be referring to the last Kalim Sinfic I wrote, so— birthday crumbs…cRumBS?? Pls this is just pure brain rot post with no plans whatsoever (￣∀￣)
He’s smiling as always as he received your gift, just a humble item that looked like something he would like, or possibly something that you made yourself, whichever of the two applies. But even as he thanked you for your hard work and effort, you felt as though he wanted to say something else. Normal Kalim would have a bigger smile than that after all, active and would even give you a hug in return, a kiss if he’s feeling extra enthusiastic.
But he’s oddly quiet about it, averting his eyes and scratching the back of his head, it was clear to you that he looked quite unsatisfied. At first, you thought it may be because your gift might have been too underwhelming, he did received tons of gifts prior to yours after all. What makes your gift more special than anyone else’s? A tinge of insecurity bubbles up inside you, to the point that you weren’t able to keep your mouth shut about it.
You can’t really ask if he wanted something else since you’re on a strict budget. Kalim’s a good person, so he surely wouldn’t ask of anything that would deliberately put you in a tight spot, but living in such a lavish lifestyle had surely raised his taste for things. So, with that out of the way, you ended up apologizing instead. Sorry that you weren’t able to give him a fancier gift and such, it actually came out way more pathetic than you would’ve wanted…But to your surprise, Kalim frantically denied all your assumptions of him being unhappy with your gift.
Shaking his head and moving his hands in denial because no, it’s not like he’s disatisfied or anything! It’s just that he was embarrassed, he admits very honestly, he was embarrassed because there was something else that he was expecting to receive from you and ended disappointing himself when you never even mentioned it. He laughs it off for expecting something that he knew wouldn’t come true, realistically speaking, but he clearly looks like he still wanted that certain something.
But of course, you were confused on what it is, so you pestered him about it. If it’s something that you can do right now, then you’d gladly obliged to get it for him, just what is it exactly? Kalim stared at you for a moment, his cheeks were becoming redder and redder by the second, his fantasies are probably in shambles and hesitating as we speak. But he leaned closer to your ear to whisper, seemingly secretive and cautious about everyone else that could be listening nearby…Like Jamil just behind that pillar over there.
“Then, would you come to my room please?” Seems simple enough.
But following him towards his room slowly made you realize that this “something else” was not as simple as you predicted it to be at all…Well, it’s not like you actually expected it to be simple in the first place so…But the moment you entered the room, Kalim quickly closed the door and a tiny click of a lock was ensured, making you turn around to see him stepping towards you in restless manner. Before you could even contemplate on what he was trying to do, he had already cupped your cheeks towards him and stole a kiss right then and there. It went all too fast, like your world just stopped the moment he looked like he turned into a different hornii person. He did it so shamelessly too, eager to just press his lips against yours as if its the most natural thing to do once you locked the doors behind you.
The next thing you knew, he’s casually taking his coat off in the heat of the moment, his tounge pushing itself inside your mouth and all. It took a while, but the moment your brain finally managed to refreshed back into awareness, you panicked and tried pushing him off. You weren’t thinking it was something malicious, is Kalim even capable of doing anything malicious? But you were confused, so you tried to give yourself some space, but no, Kalim fought back by pushing you down on the bed…He did pull away after a while though, once you stopped struggling and just let him do what he wants, panting with saliva slick from both your tongues.
“S-Sorry…I just…can’t help it…” Kalim apologized, biting his lip in guilt as he hovered above you. His eyes were shining and concerned, making a quick observation to see if you’re hurt anywhere from how rash he acted. “I appreciate your gift, I’m happy that you took all those time, I really am…! But I…I need something else…A-A different kind of gift, you know…?”
He gulped. “Hey, do you remember what you said before, when we were stuck in the lockers? You said if I do good and keep your secret, we’ll be able to…do that again…” He said, leaning forward in desperation due to the amount of effort he had to exert in order to hold himself back until this moment. It was difficult to ignore him as his crooked smile was pleading for your sympathy, your touch, everything. “I-I did good, right? No one found out and I—I kept my promise too, so…”
You squeaked as his large hands began to slowly massaged your chest through your clothes before laying his head down on it like a pillow. His cheeks were dangerously red, and you worry if he’s okay from all that blood going in his head, but his expression seemed so tranquil in this position actually. He looked like a child, using his puppy eyes to draw you in, but seemed giddier than before. “(Y/N)…” He whispered with a gentle smile. “…We’re in bed now, so…Please?”
“…Do it with me again.” He lifted himself up, coming close to your face and you can just see how his eyes swirls between love and lust at the same time as he looked down at you, excitedly. “That’s…That’s the best gift that only you can give…”
Just give Kalim that Darling Pussy™ Come on. It’s not that hard.
#twisted wonderland#yandere twisted wonderland#yandere#kalim al asim#yandere kalim al asim#Birthday Crumbs (Kalim)#Yume Crumbs
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Bjørnekram
I’m a super newbie to the Vikings fandom (better late than never?), but I saw @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie post about writing fluffy Bjorn. And, like my Hvitserk fic, the idea wouldn’t leave my brain. This is my second published fic ever, so I hope it is enjoyable.
Warnings: Heavy petting, bear hugs, fluff, ignoring the entire Vikings plot
Crossposted on AO3
++++++++
When the envoy came, you didn’t think it would change your life. Your father and Ragnar had been close friends when you were young. At that time your family had lived in Kettegat, but when your grandfather died your father was called to return to the village so he could be Jarl. Now, Ragnar requests your father’s presence at the Solstice feast to talk about raiding together in the spring.
It has been a few years since you’d played with Ragnar’s sons, but hearing the envoy talk about Kattegat thrusts you back to your memories of running around the town square, playing hide and seek between buildings. Always trying to hide Ivar with you, or getting Ubbe to carry you on his back.
Of course your father accepts the summons of his oldest friend, and decides to bring you and your mother along, leaving your elder brother in charge of the village.
During the journey to Kattegat you thought about how you’d changed. You’re no longer a tiny child to be carried around. You’re a woman with wide hips, large breasts, and the larger squishy middle of a person who is well cared for, and has the luxury of being a Jarl’s daughter. Your mother always says your body is made for children, but you’re not so sure about that just yet. “I need a man for that first, Mother” you usually respond, but no one in your village has caught your eye or even tried to pursue you.
Your family’s arrival is a celebration. After the long journey all you wish to do is lay down on a bed of furs and sleep until the next full moon, but your mother’s look says your presence is necessary. There is food and mead, and you fill your belly sitting with the sons of Ragnar and hearing of their raiding adventures.
The boys have all changed too. Now they are handsome young men, with beards and longer hair than you remember. You’re next to Ubbe, and tug on his impressive beard saying “When did this come about, hmm?”
“Probably around when those did for you, love.” He cranes his head as if to look down your dress. Then winks and laughs nudging you with his shoulder.
You turn bright red and cross your arms, returning his nudge with a hearty shoulder shove of your own.
“We have all grown up in the years we’ve been gone, no?” A voice rumbles from your left.
You look over to see Bjorn has sat next to you. And he seems to have changed the most of them all. Even sitting he seems to tower over you, and his shoulders take up almost two spaces themselves. You nod over your cup of ale and giggle saying “Hello, Bjorn.”
His returning grin is playful as he responds “Hello, Y/N.” Your early time in Kattegat was spent while Bjorn was with his mother, but clearly he knows who you are. If you’d heard tales of Bjorn Ironside from his brothers, perhaps they were telling tales of you too.
Another guest captures his attention from across the table, and you’re all swept up in the feasting and conversation. Over the course of the night you get closer and closer to Bjorn and he takes the chance to wrap an arm around you, resting his hand on the bench. You’re wrapped in warmth and all you can smell is him. He smells soothing, like home fires, cooked meat and the mead you’ve been consuming. Soon your head is resting on his shoulder and you’re nearly falling asleep at the table. After a massive yawn you feel his chest shake with laughter as he says “Maybe I should take you to sleep, Y/N.”
You hum and close your eyes, burrowing further into his soft tunic. He laughs again and starts to move. Dislodging you a bit he climbs off the bench, but starts to anchor a hand around your hip. You realise he is meaning to carry you to bed. Your eyes shoot open and you start to protest.
“Bjorn, no. I am too heavy.” You say though he continues to scoop his other hand under your knees. “Nonsense.” Is all he says as he lifts and suddenly you are in the air. He stays still for a moment, and you wriggle a little then nestle your head under his chin and close your eyes again. No one has attempted to carry you for many years, and you don’t want to stare at him in awe the entire time he is holding you.
The walk to your room feels like seconds as you start to drift back to sleep feeling supported, wrapped in his scent and his arms. Between the long journey, delicious food, and copious amounts of mead and ale there was no way you could stay awake for any longer.
Bjorn sets you gently on your bed, but you whine as he pulls away. He huffs touching his forehead to yours, and covering you in furs. Before he leaves, you feel him press a gentle kiss to your head and his massive hand pushes a few strands of hair away from your face. “Sleep well, Y/N,” he whispers, and it is the last thing you hear before a deep sleep takes you.
++++++++
In the morning you are embarrassed at your behavior. Falling asleep at the table, and on Bjorn no less. You thought that would receive endless amounts of teasing from the brothers. At least he was sweet about it, and as you get ready for your day you touch your forehead remembering his gentle goodnight kiss.
When you arrive in the great hall there is only your mother and Aslaug who tells you, “The men have gone hunting.” You nod and sit at the table to eat your morning meal. The rest of your day is spent with your sewing tasks and learning about the village from Aslaug.
Close to dinner the great hall doors thrust open and your father and Ragnar burst in with their arms around each other laughing uproariously. Those who are in the Great Hall stand to greet them.
“We will have to hold another feast to eat the meat we’ve caught this day!” Ragnar shouts. “No, Brother! Food enough to salt and keep for raiding England!” Your father returns, rejoicing. They continue to the head of the table where your father presses a kiss to your mother’s brow. You smile gently at their affection, before letting out a horrific squeal!
“Y/N!” Bjorn bellows as he lifts you up and spins you around. “Come see what we have caught!” You can smell the ale on his breath. They must have been drinking while hunting.
He places you next to their palette of slaughtered animals. They’ve got rabbits and fish, but the most impressive is the large buck whose antlers reach out from under the smaller prey. You try to step closer, but don’t move an inch. Bjorn holds his hands fast around your middle and pulls you back just a little so your bodies are aligned. You stiffen slightly before turning to look up at the big man and see his incredible blue eyes inches from yours. Blushing, you nod just a little and turn to look back at their haul.
“A magnificent array indeed! We will have to celebrate.” You turn your head to look around the room and loudly suggest “Some mead for everyone, perhaps?”
“Mead!” All the men shout and the thralls pour in with jugs and cups, and soon another feast has begun.
You smile widely and tip your head up to look at Bjorn, your hands coming to rest over his and you squeeze just a little. “Mead?” you ask him, and he starts to lower his head. Your heart starts pounding, thinking perhaps we will kiss you in the middle of the newly crowded great hall.
But alas he only rests his forehead on yours, inhales, and says “You smell like home,” so quietly you almost think he didn’t say it. He presses a quick kiss to your brow before tightening his arms and lifting you gently to the table where he sits and places you on his lap. Your heart is in your throat and you know your eyes are wide as saucers as you realise Bjorn has no intentions of letting you off him as you feast.
Hvitserk pushes a mug of mead toward you, and you’re grateful to try and hide your blushing cheeks behind it. You grab the nearest plate of meat and begin to eat. Meanwhile, oblivious to your pounding heart and warm core, the tale of the great hunt begins.
++++++++
As the evening winds down you start to move off of Bjorn, getting as far as moving your butt to the bench before he catches your knees and holds you to him. “And where are you going?” he asks.
“I wish to sleep, Bjorn” you sigh.
“Then I will take you.”
“May I walk on my own this time?”
He seems to think over your question, before staring you straight in the eye saying “No.”
You furrow your brow and stick out your lower lip, pouting.
“That trick won’t work on me, maiden.” He releases your knees to tap you on the nose, and you cross your eyes, sticking your tongue out at him. His laugh is deep and hearty, and your heart soars to hear it.
You can’t help but smile back, and he pulls you with him to stand from the bench. The table whoops and hollers at the two of you, his brothers the loudest of all. You wrap your arms around Bjorn’s significant shoulders as he adjusts his hold on you, fingers brushing your thighs and sides causing heat to rush through your body.
You’re both quiet on the way to your rooms, and his hands are so warm where they press as if branding your skin through your dress. It is hard to think of anything but how his body feels against yours and how you wish he had kissed you in the great hall.
When you get to your room, he doesn’t lay you on the bed as you expect. Instead, Bjorn wraps both arms around you and holds you so you are eye level. Both his hands are pressed tightly against your hips and butt, and he is just holding all of you. It feels special, like nothing you’d ever experienced before.
Slowly he lets you slide down his body, your eyes never breaking contact. As your toes touch the floor he leans down and presses his lips to yours. His lips are softer than you imagined and they feel so gentle. Slowly you press back against him, keeping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer to you.
His mouth opens against yours, and you nip at his bottom lip. He groans into your mouth and those massive hands travel across your body, one hand grabbing at your full bottom and the other taking a handful of your breast. Your fingers scratch against the soft shaven parts of his hair, and you moan into the kiss.
He bends his knees and lifts you up again. “Bjorn!” You exclaim as the kiss is broken. “Why in Odin’s name do you lift me so much?” He stares at you, eyebrows raised, while he just keeps you in the air, your legs wrapped around his hips. “Not... not that I am complaining. You’re so strong, but no one has lifted me since I was a child. And I didn’t think... well I didn’t think anyone could.”
He lays you gently on the bed and climbs in after you, all the while keeping you in his embrace. “You’re a beautiful woman, and I want you in my arms. Is that reason enough?”
You stare at him for some minutes, seeing the sincerity in his eyes, the strong arch of his brow, his patrician nose, the stubble forming on his cheeks. He lets you look your fill, as you feel his hands travel up your back and around your stomach, skimming your mound over your dress. You’re exploring him with your eyes, but he is worshiping you with his touch. You nod and kiss him again, taking the opportunity to press your body to his. He is scorching, pressed against every inch of you as the kissing continues.
His hands travel further across your body, lifting your dress and squeezing your bare ass. In return you reach to shove his tunic off. The next thing you know all your clothes are on the floor. His naked body feels soft against your chilled skin and the hair on his chest is pressed tight to your bare breasts. Your kisses are lazy, tongues dancing as you explore each other’s newly exposed skin.
After what feels like hours with his hands cradling your thighs and playing with your breasts you interrupt the kissing with a large yawn. Bjorn chuckles as he rubs his nose against yours.
“Sleep, maiden. I will make you scream my name tomorrow” he says quietly.
“I suppose that will have to do,” you reply, and push yourself up to blow out the candles next to the bed. He takes the opportunity to fondle your exposed breast, and you giggle dropping your body down to squash his hand between you. He hums, pressing a kiss to your temple and you kiss his chest, moving to tuck your head under his chin. You both settle together as he pulls out his trapped hand to pull you ever closer.
And that is how you fall asleep. With Bjorn’s heartbeat in your ear, wrapped in the warmth of this unexpected gift from the gods.
#bjorn x reader#plus size reader#vikings#bjorn ironside x reader#bjorn ironside#bear hugs#fanfic#fanfiction#Yes the name means Bear Hugs in Danish#no i’m not sorry#this time I made a moodboard!#pics are from pinterest#no i’ve never made a moodboard#so many new things#I’m a Hvitserk girl all the way#but there’s something about being smothered by a big man that’s just alluring#now I can get back to my Pirate!Hvitty fic
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butterfly effect: one
His mouth is slightly ajar, surely shocked to be seeing the girl of his past so far from where he had left her. I myself try to compute what I am seeing, but my brain is running so fast from the adrenaline, the gravity of what is occurring hardly registers.
It’s Harry, and he’s here and the two of you need to get out of there right now.
Word Count: 6k+
Includes: mob!h, mentions of blood, scary dudes late at night, and the set up for my favourite story I’ve ever written!
A/N: guys I am so excited about this story! I swear writing this is the only thing holding me together (so don’t let it flop lmao). It is 2AM pray for me.
My inbox is open for anyone who wants to chat about this series! I love to gab, and constructive criticism is very much appreciated. I want this to be as good as possible!!
butterfly effect masterlist // my masterlist
now
It is not until it is already too late that I realise I should have just ordered an uber.
Alex was very insistent that I order one home from my late shift at the pub. He had even offered to split the cost, knowing without needing to ask this was the cause of my hesitation. It wasn’t that I couldn’t afford it. Strictly speaking, I could. I was just keenly aware of the amount of material I could buy with the amount a late night uber in London would cost me. I would never take him up on his offer. He needed the money just as much as I did.
“It’s okay, I’m good for it,” I gave him a little smile. He was sitting in front of his mirror in his room, midway through getting ready for work. I had simply come to say goodbye before I left for my shift when he had grabbed me by the hand and demanded I ordered an uber home.
“Babe, you have to promise me.”
“I promise!” I stared exaggeratedly into his eyes as I spoke, emphasising my honesty.
In that moment, I made peace with the money I would be losing from my fabric budget. I calculated this budget, of course, by subtracting living expenses from my weekly income. My best friend wanted to make sure I got home safe, wanted the peace of mind while he was working that I would be fine. Who was I to say no to that?
“Make sure you text me when you get into the uber and once you make it up to the apartment.” My chest flooded with warmth at the love and care in his voice. It was moments like these I really sat back and thanked my lucky stars that Alex was in my life.
So, of course I was just going to bite the bullet and order the uber. Of course.
Except, well.
I couldn’t help but think how quickly I got from our place to work. We had picked the apartment just one short month ago, heavily considering the advantage of its walking distance to my work. The King’s Arms was just one block up and down the road. It was barely a fifteen-minute walk. Shorter than that if I took the shortcut down the alleyway back to our block, saving me from walking further down the road and looping back around. It would probably take me longer to get home via uber, once you account for the time spent waiting for it to arrive.
A ten-minute walk home wouldn’t kill me, surely.
The contemplation was pushed from my mind for the duration of my busy Saturday night shift. It was my least favourite shift of the week, as I spent each week chasing after middle aged men getting rowdy in the excitement of watching whatever sport was on TV. The King’s Arm was small, but it was a local favourite known for its homey pub meals, reasonably priced pints and good atmosphere. Much to my contempt they didn’t keep a large staff pool, preferring a smaller, well-trained, reliable bunch. Which was great in theory until it left me to run around like my hair is on fire on a night as busy as tonight.
I was capable of serving everyone well and in a timely manner, but it wasn’t exactly a stroll in the park. More like a seven-hour long sprint, with a half hour break in the middle.
As the final game for the night ended, the crowd slowly but surely thinned until just a couple of small groups remained.
“Hey y/n, are you okay to lock up by yourself if I head home in five?” my manager, Rachel asked me half an hour before close. “I have some time I need to take back,” she added in explanation.
“Of course, you go get out of here.” I knew she wasn’t lying when she said she had some time to take back, putting in all sorts of extra hours to keep the place in tip top shape. I liked Nicola, and I had certainly been working there long enough to handle a couple of customers and lock up by myself. Even if I didn’t like Rachel and thought she was slacking off, I couldn’t exactly argue. She was both my boss and the owner’s daughter, probably not far off becoming the owner herself.
“Are you sure?” She asked, eyeing the few men still seated, probably triple checking she didn’t think they were any kind of threat.
“Yes,” I laughed, “now scram, before I change my mind.”
“Alright if you insist,” she said, already making her way towards her bag.
“Ring me if you need anything! Good night!” She called over her shoulder as she exited through the kitchen door. The cook had gone home ten minutes earlier, the pub serving only drinks the hour before close at midnight.
“Night!” I called back.
I made quick work of what little cleaning there was left to do, and gently reminded the remaining patrons we closed in half an hour. To my surprise they were agreeable and friendly, one of them instantly assuring me, “Don’t worry love we’ll be out of your hair soon, won’t make you stay back late.”
Usually the kind of people that were in the pub this late had no care for closing time, believing that pertained simply to whenever they decided they wanted to leave.
True to his word, everyone was out with ten minutes to spare and I was able to clean their dishes and tables with the remaining time they had granted me. I locked the door to The King’s Arms at 12 o’clock on the dot and riding the high of such an easy close, took not a moment in deciding I was in fact going to walk home.
To Alex: Just ordered an uber!
I felt guilty lying, but I would rather lie than have Alex worrying over nothing. I would be home in a flash, keys secured firmly in between my knuckles the whole way. I felt far safer on the move than waiting out the front of work for an uber anyway.
I kept a fast pace, left only to debate whether I took my shortcut or stuck to the street. I checked over my shoulder, and seeing absolutely no one around, made a quick right turn into the alleyway between two buildings.
I grabbed my phone from my back pocket as I heard the ding of a text notification. I glance down at my screen, reading as I walk.
From Alex: Amazing! I should be home in a couple hours, text me when you get home safe. Love you x
I don’t register the hushed growling tones as I continue making my way down the alley, still looking down at my phone as I type a simple ‘love you’ in reply. It isn’t uncommon to hear the conversations of tenants on the lower levels of these apartment buildings as you walk down the street. Walls are thin and many windows generally left open. It is easy to consign this particular conversation among the other non-threatening city sounds until I eventually look back up from my phone.
I am immediately faced with a most unfavourable scene, under the single light that illuminates this alley, are the two men who I now recognise to be the source of the argument I had barely registered. The first man is tall, dressed in all black, thick muscles protruding through his t-shirt. He towered over the second man who contrasted him starkly in his bright red adidas tracksuit. The tall man’s presence would be dominating the space, even if he didn’t have his dark forearm pressed firmly against the smaller man’s throat.
I clamp a hand over my mouth, stopping myself from yelping stupidly and drawing attention to myself. They haven’t noticed my presence. A witness to whatever it was that was occurring here.
“See all I’m hearing is excuses, bruv,” the tall man’s accent is distinctly that of someone from South London. His tone is aggressive, but even. He knows he has the upper hand and it is clearly not his first rodeo threatening people. This is exactly the kind of person I could’ve avoided encountering by simply ordering an uber.
I snap out of my shocked daze and start to turn to make a swift and stealthy departure. I’m no fool. I know there is a definitive gang presence around here. I also know, if you leave them alone, they too shall (hopefully)leave you. All hopes of making such an exit are of course foiled as soon as my foot connects with an empty beer bottle on my first step.
The two men’s heads snap towards me instantly. I expect the shorter man to ask for help, to say something, but his mouth remains clamped shut. Gang business. He is in a bigger mess than someone like me can ever save him from. The taller man’s eyes narrow. After the briefest moments of standing there frozen, caught, I spin on my heel and run as fast as my feet can carry me.
I run back to the route I should have taken, cursing myself all the way for being naïve enough to believe that nothing bad could happen to me on something as simple as a walk home from work. That women who were raped, kidnapped and murdered from off the street were somehow removed from me. That was something only on the news in my world. Not something that was possibly about to occur.
My heart hammers in my chest as I make the split-second decision, I am safer running all the way home than running as far as I can from the scene of the crime. I’m going to run all the way up the stairs to my fifth-floor apartment, and I am going to lock the door behind me. I turn the corner back up to my block, not slowing down for a second.
I am so quick in fact, that as I come flying around the next corner towards my apartment, I nearly barrel straight into someone. He was clearly walking with some pace too, because he narrowly prevents us crashing into each other head on, but he is a second too slow in his reaction time because I trip straight over his feet. I hardly even see him, even as I am falling straight over him. All I see is brown hair and a dark suit before I’m staring straight at the pavement flying towards my face. I barely manage to throw my forearms out to break my fall as I hit the pavement at speed.
“Jesus,” the man mutters, but the only thing I can hear is my heavy breathing and my own blood pounding in my ears.
I’m on the ground now, I register for a second before my flight response kicks back in.
I don’t even feel the sting of the scrapes with the adrenaline coursing through me, already attempting to scramble up and get as far away as possible from this stranger. “I’m so sorry!” I manage to call as I pick myself and my keys up, gearing up to get moving once more.
“Honey?”
No. It absolutely could not possibly be. There was only one person on this planet who had ever called me by that name.
I stop dead in my tracks. That voice. It’s deeper than I remember but undoubtedly familiar. Familiar seems too simple a word. That voice had echoed around the halls of my brain for years. Even now, six years later, it was not gone but buried, waiting for a simple trigger to spark my memory and bring that beautiful sound back to the forefront my mind. Some days I swear I remembered it like I had just heard it moments ago.
Except now, I really had heard him.
Slowly, I turned to face him.
His mouth is slightly ajar, surely shocked to be seeing the girl of his past so far from where he had left her. I myself try to compute what I am seeing, but my brain is running so fast from the adrenaline, the gravity of what is occurring hardly registers.
It’s Harry, and he’s here and the two of you need to get out of there right now.
Before he can verbalise any of the questions on the tip of his tongue, I grab his hand in my own, and yank him forward as I continue running home.
Realistically, I know that we now outnumber whoever it was that may be coming after me and I know even six years since I’ve last seen him, I am always safe with Harry. He proved that in many ways, and more than once, while I knew him. I was not, however, willing to risk the tall man pulling a knife on Harry. I didn’t even want to put him in a situation where it was a battle of fists. Though I did know from experience he could more than hold his own.
“What’s going on?” he yells as we run down the street, rapidly approaching the exit of the alleyway I had fled.
I gradually reduce our pace until we are speed-walking past the alleyway. Tempted as I am to see if they are still there, I keep my eyes trained forward, praying they aren’t there watching us as we pass by.
As soon as we have cleared it, I’m straight back to my running pace, forcing Harry to accelerate speed once more.
“I’ll explain inside,” I call over my shoulder in answer to his earlier question.
Now that I felt a degree safer with Harry’s presence, I had the capacity to feel thankful I had opted for a boiler suit and converse for tonight to accommodate for the Saturday night rush. This run would have been hell if I had worn a skirt and a heeled boot instead.
“Inside where?” He’s laughing as he speaks and as the fear loosens its grip on me, the déjà vu begins to battle for dominance. That laugh had brightened my every day for long enough to leave a mark on my soul. Fleeting as it was, that single sound reignited the shine it had once left.
His question was answered when we came to a screeching halt in front of my apartment. It took me two tries to input my security code correctly, my brain and hands both moving quickly, but not quite matching up. Eventually, the door clicked, and I was able to swing it open, tugging Harry in after me.
I didn’t stop dragging him along behind me until we had taken all five flights of stairs up to my apartment two at a time.
“y/n…” he attempted to grab my attention when we first entered the building, but I was not to be deterred until we had reached the absolute safety of my apartment. I shushed him, not wanting to receive a noise complaint from my new neighbours. I supposed having such a thought was a good sign, my consciousness beginning to register it was not in any imminent danger.
I huffed and puffed as we landed at the doorstep of apartment 5B, the place I loved to call home. Harry, I noticed, was barely short of breath. He had always been a runner when we were in high school. I wondered if he kept up the habit even now.
My hands shook as I located the correct key on my chain, body still shaking from the excitement of the events of the past five minutes. I struggled to align the key with the lock with my left hand, unthinking of the fact my right was still firmly in Harry’s hold.
“Let me,” he murmured, already moving his right hand to take the key. I said nothing, simply surrendering it over to him.
His hands were steady as anything as he turned the key, granting us entrance into my home. I released a breath I didn’t realise I had been holding. I finally stopped just past the door, my back to Harry as he shut it behind him. I took a few deep breaths, trying so desperately to ground myself.
Was any of this even real? The sketchy characters I could believe in a heartbeat, Harry Styles’ presence, however, was harder to grasp.
But there his hand was, in my own, even if I couldn’t see him.
Harry stood back and let me take this moment to myself, keenly aware of how much I needed it. He knew I needed to take pause and re-centre myself otherwise I would only shut down. He was also aware of my injured state though, even if I wasn’t.
“y/n, you’re bleeding.”
“Oh,” my head snapped back to look at my arm. In the rush to get home, the blood from the scrapes on my arm had run down my arm and dripped into our connected hands. I quickly released my grasp on him. “Jesus, I’m sorry.”
“A little bit of blood never hurt anyone,” he quickly dismissed. “Unless you’re the one that’s bleeding, in which case you better get cleaned up as soon as possible.
“Luckily you have me here to play nurse. Just lead the way to the nearest bathroom,” he gave me a little cheeky grin, clearly trying to lift your spirits. The subtle playfulness is not as natural as it once was, but it is certainly reminiscent of our old dynamic. The surrealism of this whole thing goes straight to my head, clouding my ability to form full, coherent thoughts.
Somehow, I manage to come out with, “I think you mean our only bathroom,” in response.
He grunts a laugh, but he hasn’t missed the use of the word our.
I walk like a zombie, leading him through the hallway past the living room and the kitchen to the bathroom. I hold my forearms up in an attempt to redirect the flow of the blood and prevent it from dripping from my fingertips onto the floor. As I slowly came out of survival mode, my awareness of the stinging of my forearms became increasingly prominent. I was sure my hip and knees were going to be bruised pretty badly too. I really hadn’t managed to slow down at all before all my momentum came crashing into the cement.
“Do you have a first aid kit?” He asks upon our arrival to the bathroom.
“Under the sink.”
My eyes trail over the mess Alex and I had left in our rush to get ready.
I tend to procrastinate getting ready for as long as possible, busying myself with just about anything else. Generally, it will be tidying up the mess I’ve made during the day, only for me to create a whole new one in my hurry to get ready for my shift on time. Alex on the other hand, always leaves plenty of time to perfect his look before leaving for the night. Despite having the time to do so, he never cleans as he goes. Leaving his many products and deliberated outfits spread far and wide. Luckily most of his mess was confined to his bedroom, the only trace of him in the bathroom skincare and hair products (though there wasn’t a limited amount of those, either).
“I’m sorry for the mess,” I speak quietly watching Harry get his bearings, standing helplessly as I bled, hands still raised.
“Nonsense,” he doesn’t look at me as he speaks, jumping into action.
Harry turns the faucet on in the sink before opening the cupboard door and grabbing the first aid kid out. It was actually sort of a miracle Alex and I had one. It had been on a list of “Things You Need for a New Apartment” I had googled, scared we were missing important things. At the time, I had deliberated longer than necessary over whether to get one. I couldn’t remember the last time I had required anything more than a band aid for any given ailment. The deciding factor had been the memory of Alex getting into a couple of scrapes while out over the years. It had never been anything major, the worst injury he ever sustained being a bruised jaw, but it was better to be safe than sorry, I decided.
Turns out, that decision was for the best.
He gently touches his fingertips to my right arm, which had copped the brunt of it. With the softest touch, he delicately guided my arm under the stream of water. As I stepped forward to lean over the sink and wash away the dirt of the footpath, he stepped backwards, giving me my space.
I winced at the initial contact of the water as it ran red. I risked a glance at my reflection. Sweaty brow, the light lazy work makeup I had applied half off my face. I quickly diverted my gaze back to my injured arm. This was not exactly how I pictured our reunion. I had hardly ever even pictured it, I was so sure that I would never see Harry again.
I wondered if this silence was as heavy as I thought it was. Everything about him felt so familiar, yet so different. Up until this moment it felt like being in the presence of a friend, but now I realised, he was closer to a stranger.
I knew the person he once was, a sweet but fucked up kid who had been forced to become a man too early. Someone who had his walls a mile high around almost everyone. Almost. The boy who painted his nails on lunch breaks and was friends with everyone but somehow also no one. Until he was friends with me. Then he was the boy who always sat to my left from the first bell of the school day to the last. Back then, I knew him from the inside out, just as he knew me.
He was my greatest joy of those years. Then he was my greatest heartbreak. Now, he was just some guy I used to know who I had plucked straight up off the street, looking very out of place in what was clearly a designer suit in my tiny apartment.
He looked through the first aid kit as I ensured the entirety of the scrape was rinsed. It extended most of the way from my elbow to my wrist, but more pressingly in my mind, it now stung like a bitch. Once the water rain clear as it ran off my arm, I moved onto the much smaller and shallower scrape on my left elbow, working quickly to get it clean.
Most of the bleeding had stopped, only a few spots on my right arm still dotting with blood. I leaned over the sink to prevent the water from dripping onto the floor.
I cleared my throat, nervous to break the silence.
“Can you please grab me that towel?” I nodded my head towards the black hand towel hung behind Harry.
His eyes snapped upwards from the first aid kit he had been busying himself with. I was sure he had been surveying it more thoroughly than strictly necessary, trying to detract from the awkward energy which had crept up on us. We made brief eye contact through the mirror. My breath caught in my throat. The moment was over as soon as it began as he turned wordlessly to grab the towel.
He holds it in his hand, hesitating before handing it over, “Did you want me to…?” he trails off, growing awkward in his offer. He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. She barely knows you, back off, he tells himself.
“No that’s okay,” I speak gently, and he quickly passes the towel to me. I get to work patting my arms down delicately.
“Thank you though,” I add, hating the unsure look on his face. I meet his eye, giving him a smile I hope is reassuring.
“Okay, let’s get you sitting down so I can fix you up,” he returns your smile with a slight upturn of the right side of his mouth.
I relocate to the little dining table Alex and I had bought at Ikea just a week prior. Harry isn’t far behind, washing his hands before joining me to tend to my wounds. He lays out everything he is going to need from the first aid kit before holding his hand out. Like an idiot, I stare at his hand without moving for a beat too long before jerkily offering my right arm up.
He laughs silently as he turns my arm over, analysing it carefully.
“So, do you often go for runs at midnight?” He asks as he unscrews the lid on the Vaseline.
“Yeah all the time. I just don’t normally take people from the street with me.”
“Is that all I am? A person on the street?” He tries to keep his tone light, but I can tell he was hurt by my choice of words.
I expect to feel guilty, but a burst of anger I thought I had long gotten over flares in my chest. It isn’t as red hot and overwhelming as it had been years before – I’d definitely had my fair share of time to cool off – but I’m still surprised by the sting of it.
He was the one that made himself a stranger to me, and now he’s upset when I’m stating the fact that he made a reality.
Despite myself, I tried not to come across too harshly in my response. I was never one for confrontation.
“I mean, I haven’t heard from you in six years.”
He is very careful not to lift his eyes from my injuries as he carefully applies the petroleum jelly. I stare down at him, desperate to catch his eye.
There’s a pause as I wait for him to offer some kind of explanation. Some perfectly good reason why my best friend and first love left town without telling me why, or where he was going, and then never contacted me again.
When he doesn’t fill the silence, I sigh as quietly as I can manage. You don’t really know him, I remind myself. I practically kidnapped him, I can’t just go asking him to rehash history. It was so clear that he was what he had wanted me to be. History.
“I just mean, I don’t really know you anymore. I’m sorry I grabbed you like that, I just,” I hissed at the sting of his first aid, “I was walking home from work and I saw these really sketchy looking guys.”
“Sketchy looking?” He finally looked up at me, raising an eyebrow questioningly.
“Well I guess they didn’t really look sketchy in their appearance particularly, it was more the fact that one of them was practically choking the other. They were arguing over something. I think it was something to do with some of the gangs around here,” I attempted a nonchalant tone, not wanting to worry him. The less phased I seemed, the better. I had caused him enough trouble. The only thing that was probably stopping him from running for the hills and never looking back (again) was guilt.
I go on to explain how I’d kicked that stupid beer bottle and taken off running, “which is when I ran into you. I’m really sorry about that, by the way. I’m so glad I didn’t take you down with me I think I would’ve died of a mix of guilt and embarrassment right then and there.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Ho-“he cut himself before his mouth could form that name he had so affectionately given you. “I’m the one who feels guilty, if not for my big, slow feet you wouldn’t have bit the dust.” I laugh at his turn of phrase.
His face suddenly grows serious. “Your head is okay, right?”
Instinctively, my left hand shoots up to the back of my head, ghosting over the slight bump hidden under my hair. The scar tissue was ever so minimally raised, only perceptible to a knowing touch. I retract my hand bashfully, slightly embarrassed by my knee jerk reaction.
“It’s fine,” I match his serious tone, before lightening it up, “as you can see, I managed to break most of my fall,” I gesture to my right arm he has paused work on.
He holds my gaze for a moment longer, discerning whether he thinks I am downplaying anything. He picks up the dressing, moving onto the next phase of his treatment plan.
“And they don’t feel broken? You can move your wrists okay without too much pain?”
My heart swells at his concern. I stamp out the small joy as soon as it flared up. It’s guilt that’s fuelling him. Nothing else.
I shake my head no. He looks up once more, having missed the gesture in his concentration. “Sorry! No. All bumps and bruises. I’m fine honestly, I probably majorly overexaggerated the whole thing and freaked out for nothing. I’m really sorry about all this, its so late at night.”
“Don’t apologise,” he says firmly. “It’s not your fault and you did exactly the right thing by making a break fo’ it. You never know what could’ve happened. Ya’ know. Out late. By yourself. In the dark.”
My face burned red with shame, but also defiance. I knew what I did was stupid and extremely risky, but I also didn’t think I needed a lecture about it in this moment. The fear still coursing through me and my scraped-up arms were surely lesson enough.
“I could say the same thing to you,” I countered.
We both knew my argument didn’t hold up very well. He was a man out alone at night. There was obviously a risk there, but it wasn’t the same.
We also both knew, I wasn’t really trying to start a debate. Just signalling to him I didn’t want to get into it and wanted to move on.
“I was walking to the tube from a mate’s place,” he explained simply, letting me off the hook.
He had begun to tape the dressing down to my skin, securing it safely. He worked expertly. Even if I didn’t already know, I would have said this was one of many times he had done some at home first aid.
“In a designer suit?” I questioned. There were two things I was asking, but also not saying. Was this the kind of ‘mate’ you wine and dine before going home with them? And what happened to that poor kid from Holmes Chapel I once knew?
“I came straight from work.”
Jesus he wasn’t giving me a lot to work with in the way of details.
“Oh,” I say lamely, not wanting to pry. As much as I could tell myself (and him) that I didn’t really know him anymore and he was basically a stranger, it still hurt to be treated like one. We used to be so open with one another. The one thing I ever kept from him was how I truly felt about him.
“I work in finance,” he offers up after a beat of silence. “It uh- I’m pretty lucky to have the job I do,” he alludes to his financial standing, obviously wanting to acknowledge the contrast comparative to how I knew him. A boy not even of eighteen, fending for himself while trying to complete his high school education.
My face practically split in two with the size of the smile on my face at his words. “I’m so happy for you, Harry,” I say, hoping he can see how genuinely I mean it.
“Thank you.”
“Are you happy, H?” The question slips out before I can stop it. Internally, I kick myself. Externally, I try to keep my face neutral, yet interested. That’s a perfectly normal question to ask. Totally.
“Um,” he switches to my left elbow, making quicker work of the smaller wound. “I think so. In my experience you never realise how happy you are until you aren’t. But still, I think I am.”
“Good,” I say firmly. “I’m glad.”
“What about you?” He turns the questioning back on you. “What’s your story?”
“Oh, you know. The sad story of the girl chasing a dream,” I nodded my head towards the sewing machine stationed at the other end of the table.
“Don’t say that!” His tone jests, but he is serious as he speaks. “I think it would be far sadder if I discovered that your talent was going to waste. I’m really glad to hear that actually,” he half says the last sentence to himself, concentrating on fixing his dressing properly on the more difficult angle of my elbow.
“There you go,” he gleams as he admires his handy work. “Good as new.”
“Thank you so much, Harry. I’m so sorry for all this-“
“Not your fault,” he quickly dismisses.
“Even so, I’m sorry for all the trouble. I’ll pay for an uber home for you or something,” I try to come up with something to offer him that can even begin to repay him for his help.
“Are you going to be okay by yourself?” His brow creases in concern.
“Oh, Alex should be-“ I smack a hand over my mouth, realising I never texted him to let him know I had gotten home okay.
“Oh fuck,” I remove my hand from my mouth. I gingerly fish my phone out of my back pocket, muscles beginning to protest, the impact of that fall settling in.
Four missed calls and a flurry of text messages. My phone had automatically turned onto ‘Do Not Disturb’ mode as scheduled at 12:30. I hadn’t been notified of any of it and he had definitely assumed the worst.
“Is everything okay?”
“I forgot to text him and let him know I made it home okay,” I don’t look up as I speak, opening our text chat.
From Alex: I’m coming home
Received ten minutes ago.
“Your boyfriend?” He questioned, keeping his face impassive. That had my head shooting up.
“Uh-“ I began, but cut myself off as the unmistakeable sound of heeled feet running up the stairs to our apartment ran out loud and clear.
Shit.
Before I could even think what to say next, Alex’s key was in the lock. The door swung open, smacking the wall with the force of it.
Both Harry and Alex’s brows hit their bloody hairline I swear. Or more accurately, Lexie’s.
There my best friend and roommate stood, in full drag, light catching the sequins of the pink mini-dress I had sewn myself. If I weren’t standing there with the guiltiest expression of my life, I would be thinking about how stunning she looked.
Harry looked between the two of you, as Lexie did the same. Both trying to catch their brains up to what they were seeing. I myself was at a loss for words. I probably should have started with, “Lex, I am so sorry,” but Harry broke the silence first.
“Wow, you look amazing,” he breathed, transfixed by the look Lexie had created. Drag was an art form, and she was quite the artist. He was not the first to become enchanted upon first look, and he certainly would not be the last.
Lexie narrowed her eyes at Harry, jaw falling slightly open at the audacity of the acknowledgement in this moment. She had little patience for besotted strangers in moments like this. Her narrowed eyes moved to mine, face filling with rage.
“Lex-“ I begin, but am cut off for what seems to be the millionth time tonight with the simple raise of her hand. The close of my mouth is instant. I was not about to make this any worse.
“Bitch, if you do not have a very good explanation for this,” she breathes deeply, trying to gain her composure, “I am going to fucking kill you.”
********
As soon as he is out of your apartment and onto the street, his phone is in his hand. Fingers not able to press to type the message fast enough for his liking.
From Harry: We need to talk. I saw her.
As soon as the message was delivered, he was returning the calls he had silenced in y/n’s presence. The moment she had turned her back and left him to wash his hands, he had turned his phone to airplane mode.
“Jesus Christ bruv, I thought you were dead,” Michael joked as soon as he picked up.
The two of them had parted ways for what should’ve been five or ten minutes. Harry hadn’t seen it happen, just heard the clatter of the beer bottle as it skated along the ground and the screeching halt in the argument. He had been waiting patiently for Michael to finish working in the shadowy doorway to the side. He hadn’t seen a thing, and he was sure from his concealed position, whoever had seen Mike hadn’t seen him. So, he obligingly offered to take a walk, ensure she hadn’t gone calling the police.
He had just been bored. Ready to go home and have a drink with Michael so he could have a bitch and a moan about work. It always left him feeling better when he returned on Monday. He was killing time, that was all. He hadn’t expected to stumble over the girl who had changed everything.
Harry didn’t take time to explain his extended absence, moving straight along to what he had called for. Just like Mike, he preferred to skip the pleasantries.
“I need you to subtly divert as much traffic from this block as possible,” he didn’t ask. He never asked. It was always an instruction with him. In this business, asking nicely didn’t exactly lend itself to going far.
“What’s this about?” Harry gritted his teeth. He did not enjoy having his authority questioned. The only reason Michael would get away with it was because of their pre-existing friendship. Even then. Harry was not exactly in a forgiving mood. Made all the worse when Mike added, “This isn’t about that girl from the alley is it?”
Michael had his answer when Harry said only, “Get it done or I’ll have your fookin’ head.”
chat with me about butterfly effect!
#mob!h#harry styles imagine#harry styles x reader#harry styles x you#harry styles#harry styles angst#harry styles series#harry styles fic#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles one shot#harry styles fluff#harry styles smut#harry x reader#harry x you#butterfly effect#harry styles writing#harry styles story#one direction imagine#harry styles au#mob!harry#mob!harry styles#mob harry styles#mob h
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"I'm truly sorry, but I don't think we've ever met." memory loss angst? 👉👈🥺
anon... fam, this turned into an emotional rollercoaster and totally stole my braincell.
3.8k words. angst with a happy ending.
tw: memory loss, minor anxiety, repressed memories, idiots to lovers, whump, angst with a happy ending, angst with a fluffy ending
---
It’s been three hours, five minutes, and forty-two seconds since the frigid breeze whipped Geralt’s angry words at him, shattering his fragile, stupid heart to pieces. Every syllable rings through Jaskier’s head over and over, slamming into him from all directions and crippling him with a bone-deep pain far worse than anything he’s ever felt before. The ache ebbs and flows, lancing through him with every step. Not even Geralt’s first frustrated blow to his abdomen had been this terrible.
Geralt… That’s the problem, isn’t it? He hadn’t been smart enough to get out of the gorgeous Witcher’s long, silvery hair soon enough. He’d overstayed his welcome, fallen in love in the meantime, and is now very out of sorts (and also alone in unfamiliar territory). The bard laughs but it’s a hollow sound. Jaskier has reached the edge of hysteria, his intelligent blue eyes now vacant and unseeing. Even as he stumbles through the underbrush, all he can picture is the snarl on Geralt’s face as the Witcher yells at Destiny to take Jaskier off his hands.
Jaskier’s own hands are covered in sap and splinters from pushing tree branches away from his face as he traverses the darkening forest. His hair is full of debris and his clothes are torn and dirty; Geralt has all of his emergency supplies, still. Jaskier is pretty sure that his lute is still strapped over his shoulder but he realizes, with no small amount of surprise, that he doesn’t actually care.
He doesn’t have the capacity anymore.
He can’t care… caring hurts too much.
If only Destiny had taken him off Geralt’s hands. Maybe then it would be okay. Maybe then, if Geralt was well and truly free of him and his irritating presence, the Witcher could be happy. He and Yennefer will surely come back around, they always seem to, and Ciri will be joining them soon enough it seems.
There’s no need - no room - for a humble bard anymore.
Only five hours, thirty minutes, and twelve seconds after Geralt’s outburst at the top of the mountain, Jaskier’s delicate human body succumbs to the stress of the day.
He drops to the forest floor without a sound, grateful for the darkness.
---
Yennefer finds the bard in a heap a few miles away from the previous night’s elevated campsite. When she presses the back of her hand to his forehead she yanks it away almost immediately; he’s burning up, and his skin is clammy and sticky with sweat. The feathery bangs he flicks about and preens so much are stuck to his forehead and temples. He’s on the verge of shaking apart and Yennefer tosses her head imperiously, swearing.
“Damnit, Geralt. You and your incredibly foolish need to be alone all the time so you can brood and self-flagellate. Me, an ageless sorceress from one of the greatest magic schools on the Continent? I can handle a thorough tongue lashing. Fuck, I’m older than you and I’ve seen far worse but this… oh, you great lummox. You absolute bastard…” Yennefer mutters to herself as she assesses the bard’s deteriorating state of health, ranting to an invisible Geralt all the while. “You’re absolutely going to be hearing from me about this, Wolf.”
---
Three days, one hour, and fifteen minutes after Geralt dismissed him forever, Jaskier wakes up with a loud gasp and a violent shudder. He blinks slowly, allowing his eyes to adjust to the bright light streaming in through a window. Whatever he’s lying on is comfortable and the sheets smell fresh and bright, like lilac and freesia. A hint of gooseberry lies beneath it all, delicate and sweet. He glances around the space and finds it to be relatively bare; a guest room, perhaps. Maybe he’s a servant at some noble house?
Jaskier only really knows that his name is Jaskier and that he plays music. He’s also rather talented with floral arrangements.
Shortly after he’s finished purveying his (borrowed?) chamber, the very image of grace, beauty, and terror enters the room. The woman, whose coppery skin and enchanting violet eyes practically glow in the midafternoon sun, smiles down at him in a way that toes the line between Motherly and Shark-like.
“How are you feeling, Jaskier?”
“I’m alright. And you?”
“Just fine. Geralt really did a number on us, huh?” she asks, a playful grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. He has the feeling that something isn’t right; she shouldn’t be looking at him so kindly.
Her expression changes from friendly to horrified to confused in an instant, as soon as Jaskier manages to ask: “Who’s Geralt? And, pardon me, but I feel as if something is rather amiss. Who are you, my Lady?”
Whoever the gorgeous and terrifying woman is, she grimaces briefly. Then, as if by magic, the comforting smile returns. “I’m Yennefer, of course. I saved your life a few years ago, remember?”
Jaskier wracks his brain but cannot call the occasion to mind. “Unfortunately no, I don’t remember your no doubt heroic deed. Although I suppose that means I’m in your debt, doesn’t it? Do I work for you? Is that why I’m here?”
The woman blinks a few times, slowly, and then nods. “You’re my gardener and personal musician.”
Jaskier brightens, happy to have found himself in a safe environment.
“But you’ve had a nasty illness and your mind is clearly fatigued. Rest another day or two and then we can see about getting you back into the fresh air.”
“Thank you, my Lady,” Jaskier nods.
“Yen is fine.”
“Thank you, Yen. I don’t know where I’d be without you,” he grins.
---
Yennefer turns away to hide her pained expression. You’d probably still be with your beloved Witcher.
She makes her way to the kitchen to fix Jaskier something to eat. He must be hungry after spending three days in a deep, healing sleep. She hadn’t been expecting the amnesia, though; it was an unexpected but not unsurprising turn of events. Heartbreak had done stranger things than a little bit of fever-induced memory loss. When she’d delved briefly into his mind she hadn’t seen any sign of Geralt. His face was absent from the bard’s consciousness; she would have needed to dig to unearth those memories. Whatever the Witcher had done was grievous, especially if Jaskier’s mind compensated with something as dramatic as burying Geralt completely to save itself from further harm.
No matter, she decides, the bard can stay here as long as he likes. It’s the least I can do for all the upset Geralt and I have caused him. Where is that idiot Witcher, anyway?
The sorceress quickly clears her agenda and her mind before returning to her guest room with a large tray of food, a bottle of Toussainti red under her arm. “Jaskier, darling, let’s get your convalescence started in style!”
---
2 months later
---
Jaskier watches a strange man ride up the long path to Yennefer’s manor, the hilts of his twin swords glinting in the sun where they’re slung over his shoulder. He has long white hair and the most devastating jawline the bard/gardener (or ‘bardener’ as he says to irritate his darling employer) has ever laid eyes on. He’s clad all in black, from his plain linen shirt to his tight leather trousers; Jaskier thinks he’d also look rather lovely in dark blue or perhaps forest green.
In front of him, wrapped securely against his chest by one strong arm, sits a little girl with ashen hair and frightened eyes. Haunted eyes. Jaskier’s mind fills with ballads, some familiar and some oddly dreamlike, their lyrics half-obscured and hazy. Ciri, he thinks for no reason. Her name is Ciri. And she is a Princess.
The brunette scurries from the garden alongside the house to the kitchen, searching for the familiar cloud of Yennefer’s strong perfume. “My Lady?”
“Darling?” the sorceress replies, coming around the corner. She raises her perfectly maintained eyebrows and her lips quirk up into a smirk. “Did you sprint all the way from the west lawn?”
“There’s a- strange man- on the- drive!” he huffs. “White hair- horse!”
“Oh,” her eyes go wide with surprise. Then, in a split second, they narrow to slits. “Oh.”
“Do you, uhm, know him?” Jaskier asks, twiddling his fingers. “He’s rather handsome, Yen. Is he a former lover?”
“Unfortunately,” she growls. “I can’t believe it’s taken him two fucking months to get here. He’d better have a damned good excuse.”
By now Jaskier can breathe normally again and he straightens up, shaking his long, shaggy hair from his eyes. “He had a child with him. She looked scared, Yen.”
“Cirilla!”
Yennefer dashes for the front door and Jaskier follows instinctually. They’re always together and he can’t bear to let her confront this man alone. He’s spent every waking moment with Yen since he awoke that first day and she has grown to be his dearest friend; he’ll protect her even unto death. “Yenna, what’s wrong? Who is he!?”
“Geralt of Rivia,” she snarls. The name seems familiar; maybe from a ballad or story? Perhaps Yen has mentioned him before?
“What about Geralt of Rivia?” a low, rumbling bass asks from the front hallway. Jaskier and Yennefer arrive in the doorway together and the man, Geralt apparently, takes a shaky step back. He recoils a bit, as if he’s been slapped, and Yennefer’s smile grows cruel. His voice, still incredibly low but now with a slight tremor to it, stutters out; “Wha- Yen, what is he- Jaskier? I only came to ask for help with Ciri, I didn’t know- I didn’t-”
Geralt’s stammered speech tapers off into silence and Yennefer’s brow furrows a second time. When the sorceress sets eyes on the child, who cannot be more than twelve years old, her expression softens again. Jaskier watches the most imposing woman in the world kneel, taking one small, pale hand in both of her own. “My name is Yennever of Vengerberg, former Sorceress of Aretuza. I am honored to meet you, Princess Cirilla. Geralt has come seeking protection, no doubt, and it is easily granted. I will do everything I can to help you.”
“Thank you, Lady Yennefer. And, uhm… Ciri’s fine,” the girl replies. Her voice is high and reedy, shot through with anxiety. She’s so young, Jaskier frowns. And yet she seems to have weathered an incredible storm.
“Ciri,” the bard bows from the doorway, low and dramatic. He sweeps his arm out to the side and bends his knees as awkwardly as possible, “I am Jaskier, private troubadour and gardener extraordinaire, under the employ of the magnanimous and dangerous Lady Yennefer, here. It is my greatest honor to make your very mighty and very royal acquaintance.”
“You’re silly, Master Jaskier,” the child giggles, hiding her mouth behind her hands. Geralt’s eyes grow wide and dart between Jaskier and the girl. Yennefer makes meaningful eye contact before nodding toward the door. Jaskier looks down at Ciri again when she asks: “Do you grow lots of flowers in Lady Yennefer’s garden, or just herbs and things for magic?”
“I grow lots of things all over the property,” the brunette man steps forward and offers Ciri his hand, gesturing towards the front door with the other. “Would you like to come and take a look? I know all the scientific names, you can even quiz me if you like.”
“I know some,” she smiles shyly, accepting the offered hand. “May I go take a look at the gardens, Geralt?”
“Go ahead,” the Witcher nods dumbly. “Jaskier will take good care of you.”
“That I will. Now, let’s take a look at the flowers and let these silly adults have a chat,” Jaskier grins. He winks at Yennefer and disappears out the door, exiled Princess in tow.
The two lively companions have toured through all the medicinal herbs and are halfway through Yennefer’s large collection of rose variations when the two other members of the party approach. Geralt looks sheepish, his eyes downcast. Yennefer looks triumphant; she is radiant in her victory as always.
Geralt steps forward, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Jaskier, I’ve come to apologize for what happened when we parted.”
“Excuse me?” the bard chuckles, raising an eyebrow. "I don’t know what you’re apologizing for, exactly.”
“When I yelled at you after the dragon hunt. It was only two months ago, Jaskier, surely you remember?”
Jaskier blushes, glancing anxiously between Geralt and his friend, whose violet eyes are stormy with emotion, “I'm truly sorry, but I don't think we've ever met."
Geralt gasps sharply and takes a step back, as he did in the entryway. Jaskier winces, seemingly on instinct, and shies away from the larger man. “You don’t remember me?”
“No…” Jaskier sighs. “I really don't. Should I?”
“You don’t… You don’t even remember Toss a Coin?”
“Oh, that ditty from town?” Jaskier perks up. “I know that song! It always gets stuck in my head.”
“You… You wrote that song,” Geralt’s face crumples. “About our first adventure together outside of Posada. With the elves and the sylvan...”
“I’ve never been to Posada,” Jaskier laughs, waving his hand dismissively. “They hate bards. They prefer troupes of traveling play-actors. Posada is far too serious for my tastes.”
Geralt seems to be in agony. His chest rises and falls unevenly, as if he’s on the verge of tears but unable to shed them. Can Witchers cry?
How does he know that Geralt is a Witcher? Is it the two swords, the scars, or the strange eyes? How does he know that those are common Witcher traits?
His stomach lurches and he turns away from the group in case he needs to be sick. The ground spins and shivers in little ripples around him, unstable and impermanent beneath his feet. Yennefer is calling his name from somewhere far away and a pair of warm, strong arms are looped around his waist. Still, he can’t seem to breathe. Or focus.
There’s something missing.
He starts to hum, trying to remember the words of that damned song.
The rest of the world fades in and out around him, finally disappearing altogether.
---
He’s gorgeous.
Jaskier shoves another roll into his pocket. His eyes are focused on the man in the corner. He has long, snow-white hair and his shoulders are hunched forward protectively, as if he can hold the world out by sitting by himself. He’s glaring the table into submission, one fist clenched around his tankard.
I want to write him a thousand ballads. I want to know what his hair looks like when he wakes up in the morning, before he brushes it out again. I want to know if he snores. I want… he stops himself.
He makes his way across the room with eyes only for the stranger. “I love the way you just sit in the corner and brood.”
The man looks away and Jaskier notices that his irises are gold. “I’m here to drink alone.”
Gods, his fucking voice… Velvet and gravel all at once. Melitele, does Jaskier want. “Good, yeah. Good. No one else hesitated to comment on the quality of my performance… except for you.”
The man, the Witcher, Jaskier realizes, rolls his eyes.
“Come on,” he wheedles, sitting down across from the gorgeous stranger. “You don’t want to keep a man with bread in his pants waiting. You must have some review for me, three words or less.”
The man’s face stays stoic, expressionless. “They don’t exist.”
He realizes shortly thereafter that this man is not just any Witcher but the infamous Butcher of Blaviken, Geralt of Rivia. He could try to disengage himself from such a daunting character; he could easily make some kind of excuse and disappear back to the troubadour’s path, heading towards civilization, but it’s already too late. He doesn’t want to leave Geralt’s side ever again; he wants to write all those ballads he was thinking about earlier, when he glanced across the room.
Jaskier has fallen head over heels in love.
---
Geralt cradles Jaskier against his chest and presses his nose deep into those chestnut brown waves. “Wake up, Jaskier. Come back to me, bard, it’s been too long.”
“Don’t you usually go all winter without seeing him?” Yennefer asks from the doorway.
“It’s hell,” he replies easily. There’s no point in hiding his feelings from her. “I miss him every minute of every day.”
“Verbose this evening,” she remarks, taking a seat by the fire. “He’s dreaming, you know. He’s remembering you.”
“He’d forgotten?”
“He’d repressed it all,” she shrugs. “When I found him that day, feverish and nearly dead on the side of that godsforsaken mountain, he was barely coherent enough to open his eyes. He just kept asking for you, Geralt. Over and over he called for you, reaching his arms up, weak as they were. Gods, it was pitiful to watch.”
Geralt swallows.
“I thought you were going to come back sooner. I was surprised when his memories didn’t resurface after two or three weeks. Short-term memory loss after a fever isn’t uncommon but repressing twenty years worth of feelings and experiences-” she whistles lowly “-it was impressive and tragic, all at once.”
“He forgot me?”
“Entirely.”
Geralt glances down, shame-faced. He adjusts Jaskier in his arms, holding him close and pillowing the bard’s head against his shoulder. “I deserve it, Yen.”
“He’s remembering now, though. He’ll probably be a little less than pleased to see you when he wakes up, but he knows who you are.”
“When will he wake?”
“Can’t say,” she shrugs again. “After I brought him back from the mountain it took three days for him to wake up. The first day was magically induced but after that it was just him… exhausted and heartbroken to the point of self-induced amnesia.”
“Fuck, Yen,” Geralt groaned, pressing his forehead into the soft warmth of Jaskier’s cheek. “How can I make it up to him?”
“Stay.”
“Hmm?”
“When he wakes up and he’s angry and upset, stay. Don’t stomp off or blow up or freak out,” she instructs. “If he asks you to leave, go, but otherwise… prove yourself, Geralt of Rivia. You wanted to be a knight once, didn’t you? Now’s your chance to play Prince Charming. Get down on your lovely knees and beg and apologize.”
“Hmm. How’s Ciri?”
“Fed, bathed, and put to bed. I’ll take care of her for as long as it takes you two morons to make nice again. Good luck, Geralt, I’m sure he’ll forgive you too easily for my tastes.”
She stands from her seat and leaves just as efficiently as she entered, carefully closing the door behind her. Geralt lays Jaskier back on the bed and takes a seat beside him on the mattress, kneeling just within touching distance, should Jaskier reach out for reassurance in his sleep. Geralt closes his eyes and slips easily into meditation.
The Witcher is pulled from his trance a few hours later when Jaskier makes a startled sound and tries to sit up. Geralt opens his eyes and splays one warm, broad hand against Jaskier’s chest, forcing him back against the goose down pillows. “Stay still, Jaskier. You’re feverish and weak.”
“I’m still dreaming,” the bard grumbles, reaching to rub at his eyes with the heels of his hands. It’s adorable and Geralt grins widely, warmth spilling into his chest from some newly discovered fount of happiness. “You’re being too nice to me, Witcher.”
“I’m so sorry, Jaskier, for everything.”
“What’s everything, Geralt?”
“I’m sorry for pushing you away when I was angry and confused instead of communicating with you. I’m sorry for hurting you with my brash words and foolish actions; you have always deserved so much better and I’m so afraid that I can never give that to you. I take the wrong step at every turn, it seems, and yet you stay by my side. I didn’t want to risk hurting you the way I’ve already hurt Yen and Ciri, by tying us together against your will.”
“Darling Geralt,” the bard sighs. The Witcher scoots slightly closer and Jaskier lays a gentle hand atop his thigh. “It has always been my greatest pleasure to travel the Path with you and write of our adventures. I appreciate your concern for my agency and wellbeing, dear heart, but I am quite happy spending my entire human life in your presence.”
“Hmm,” the Witcher frowns. “You’re going to die someday.”
“And? So are you. So shall Yennefer, maybe.”
“Not likely,” Geralt jokes. Jaskier grins and the sight of it is so heartwarming that the Witcher wishes he could break down into tears. At least then Jaskier could see just how deeply his feelings ran. “I’m sorry, Jaskier, for blaming you for things that I brought upon myself. I love you dearly, and I hope that someday you can choose to travel with me again.”
“Excuse me?”
“I hope that you’ll-”
“No, the other bit.”
“I love you?”
“Yeah, that one.”
“Oh. Yes, I-” Geralt clears his throat and looks Jaskier in the eyes, gold and blue locked together, “I love you very much, Jaskier.”
“Fuck.”
“May I kiss you, Jaskier?”
“Yes,” the bard breathes.
And then Geralt is lifting him up into his lap, one hand cradling Jaskier’s skull so so fucking carefully. Geralt’s other arm supports his waist, holding him steady. Their lips come together softly, carefully, and Jaskier’s soul spirals up to the ceiling with joy, his body abandoned. He is merely a vessel for the happiness that comes with kissing his Witcher. When they pull apart, both men are grinning like fools. “Oh, dear heart.”
“Yes, my love?”
“Never stop calling me that.”
“I swear I won’t, my love.”
From downstairs, Geralt hears Yennefer mutter, “Fucking finally.”
It takes twenty-two years, seven months, and one day, but Geralt and Jaskier manage to figure things out.
#bounceacoinoffyouranons#geraskier#amnesia#amensiac jaskier#memory loss#rare species fix it#the witcher netflix#the witcher ficlet#geraskier fluff#angst with a happy ending#fluff and angst#whump with a happy ending#jaskier whump#yennefer#yen and jaskier are bitchy theatre bffs#and you can't stop me#anon you really got me fucked up
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Nomu-Sitting
request: This is kinda kinky... but the reader has been desperately horny for a while but Shigaraki has been too busy, so the reader takes matters into her own hands and has a nomu screw her. Shigaraki walks in about half way through and ends up taking a seat to enjoy the show. (Feel free to ignore this, I won't be offended! But like, thank you so much if you do ♡!)
👁👄👁
i changed up some things, instead dabi asks reader to look after the nomu he’s supposed to be watching since he has better things to do
warnings: 18+, monster-fucking, dub-con/non-con, voyeurism, degradation, cheating (?)
He… it… the nomu stares at you, unblinking. Well, you’re not sure if it’s staring at you. The tiny black pinpricks of its irises seem to almost go in separate directions. It definitely took notice when you had entered the room, if its low growl and sniffing at the air were any indication – but had no other reaction once you were standing a few feet in front of it. You tilt your head to the side to test your theory and to your childish delight it copies the action, huffing out a breath at your laugh.
With broad shoulders and biceps bigger than your head, the hulking behemoth makes an imposing figure. Even hunched over the way it is, the difference in height between you two isn’t easy to ignore. Dabi’s words of warning ring in the back of your mind: ‘Whatever you do, don’t get too close to it. Not grabbing distance, anyway.’
But the docile giant in front of you is nowhere near as scary as it was made out to seem.
You take a step forward and tentatively reach out a hand to pet the side of its face, just shy of its chin. It responds with a pleased rumble that vibrates up your arm, and cranes its neck to get closer.
What was Dabi even worried about, you wonder, smiling to yourself. The nomu is almost like a puppy. A massive, deformed puppy with the strength to crush a truck with its bare hands but… it’s cute, in its own way - exposed brain matter and all.
The sense of security you tricked yourself into is immediately shattered when you feel a hand grip your waist – so massive in size it easily dwarfs you. Trying not to panic, you attempt to take a step back. “Alright big guy, I think that’s enough for now,” you say, voice light.
You pray it can’t smell fear.
Of course, it doesn’t listen and instead pulls you closer with way too much ease, pressing you right up against its bare chest. Its body is almost uncomfortably warm and you’re not sure if it’s the radiating heat or the threat of harm that has you sweating.
You’re openly trembling now, biting your lip to keep your whimpers in. You don’t want to scare or upset it with any sudden noises; the nomu is strong enough to squish your head like a grape and you’d prefer to stay alive.
This is fine, you desperately try to convince yourself. It’s just curious. It’s not going to hurt you.
…right?
You can’t hold back the whimper when the nomu presses its beaklike mouth against your neck, tongue slithering out to lave against your neck. The muscle is big, slimy with saliva that quickly coats your neck and jaw, dripping thickly to drench the collar of your shirt. You shudder.
Too preoccupied with trying to not dry heave at the feeling of monster spit all over you, you fail to realize the reason it grabbed you. Pulling you a bit closer, it brazenly begins humping you, the movements of its hips becoming progressively more frantic and aggressive. You’re shocked into stillness by the heavy weight of its hard cock rubbing up against your stomach. Even through the layers of clothing, you can tell that it’s much bigger than anything you’ve ever taken. This is so fucked… a distant voice in your head echoes.
You nearly jump out of your skin when it suddenly lets out a guttural growl, clearly becoming frustrated with the lack of proper stimulation.
“Shh… It’s ok,” you say, voice lowered into what you hope is a soothing tone.
You try to pry yourself away but the nomu responds with a snarl, grip tightening to the point of pain. You wince and immediately give up on moving. It’s obvious that you’re not going anywhere anytime soon.
Despite your reservations, your eyes find themselves shifting towards the tent in the monster’s pants. You gulp, looking around the empty room guiltily. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t just a little curious…
Shaky hands reach down to unbutton the monster’s pants, a feat considering what little space there is between you two. The movement of its hips drag the khakis down until they fall into a heap at its feet. What is revealed has your eyes going wide and your jaw slackening in shock. The veiny column of flesh is massive – almost as thick as your wrist and topped with a large, bulbous head steadily leaking sticky precum that is smeared against your hip with every thrust.
Almost without even thinking, you grab ahold of its dick and begin stroking. The generous amount of precum makes the slide easy, almost slippery. This placates the beast for a short time – enough to at least let you out of its vice-like hold – but soon it’s made clear that your hand is not enough.
Without much preamble, you’re lifted off your feet and turned around, now facing the gray walls of the nomu’s containment room. You let out a surprised squeak and cast a nervous glance downwards to see the head of its dick peeking out between the plushness of your thighs.
It ruts into the warmth of your clasped thighs for a while before angling upwards, immediately becoming annoyed with yet another barrier- this time it’s your clothing in its way. Large hands begin groping at your pants before tearing into them as if they were made of paper. The flimsy material of your underwear doesn’t stand a chance against the hulking behemoth and they soon join your shorts on the floor in tattered shreds.
You cry out. “Wai- wait, no! Stop! Stop, let me just--”
Your words are cut off when the nomu rears its hips back before pushing forward. The first few thrusts miss their mark, bumping up against your sensitive clit instead, but on the fourth attempt the head of it’s cock catches on the rim of your entrance and that alone has your breath catching and your mind going blank. The feeling of it pushing in soon snaps you out of your daze and you begin struggling anew. You reach a desperate hand behind you but pushing against the monster’s chest felt like pushing against a solid brick wall – utterly pointless.
Even with you struggling and flailing limbs, it manages to work its cockhead past the ring of twitching muscle, and you feel like you’re being split in half with just the tip in.
It’s too much. It’s too much and you need to get away.
But the nomu keeps going, forcing inch after agonizing inch into your tight, (barely) wet heat.
You let out a broken gasp when it bottoms out, cunt clenching down hard on the too-large intrusion and body going slack in its hold. Even with the unnaturally copious amounts of precum it’s producing, the stretch is uncomfortable.
The head of its cock is shoved up against the mouth of your cervix with every push and you’re not sure whether you love or hate it, but it’s definitely a feeling you won’t be forgetting anytime soon. It’s hard to ignore how good the mindless fucking is starting to feel and after two consecutive orgasms, you’re wet enough that the slide of its dick is much easier. Wet slaps echo off the walls of the large, barren room. And for a while it’s the only sound, overlaid by the monster’s grunts and pants and your own high-pitched whining and moans, until the door is opened.
The grating of heavy metal against concrete brings you out of your haze, raspy, like the voice of the person opening the door.
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for you? I had to ask Dabi if he knew where you were sulking. Are you done being a bi—”
Shigaraki stops mid-sentence, eyes wide. The lewd scene playing out before him robs the words right out of his mouth. It’s not every day you see your half-naked girlfriend getting fucked silly by a nomu, after all.
He stares.
You stare right back, mortification quickly overpowering your arousal.
This interruption goes completely ignored by the nomu, who continues to rut into you from behind.
“Tomura! I can— ah!” You try to come up with an excuse but at that exact moment the nomu gives a particularly rough thrust that has you seeing stars, powerless to keep your eyes from rolling in your head.
Shigaraki curses under his breath, unable to tear his eyes away. He should be angry. Furious, that not only would you fuck someone else but a mindless nomu of all things. The thought alone should have his blood boiling. But the blissed-out look on your face as you’re handled as nothing more than a fucktoy by a creature twice your size has his blood instead rushing to his cock.
Without a word, Shigaraki closes and locks the door behind him, before advancing towards you, face dark and unreadable. He grasps your face in one hand, pinky lifted, squishing your cheeks, and jerking your head up so that you’re forced to look him directly in the eyes.
“You filthy fucking whore,” he laughs, chapped lips spread in a mean grin. “That desperate to be fucked you couldn’t even wait?”
The harsh words have your eyes watering, tears just on the edge of falling, but they do nothing to dampen your arousal.
You moan in reply, eyes half-lidded and unfocused. “T-tomura…”
Shigaraki sneers, letting go of you to reach down and pull out his own half-hard dick, giving his palm a long lick, and begins to stroke himself. “Be careful what you wish for, huh?” he grunts, giving the head a squeeze. “Now look at you. Stuffed with so much cock you don’t even know what to do with all of it.”
He continues to berate you as he jerks himself off, taking delight in your embarrassment.
It’s a relief when the nomu finally cums with a roar, holding your ass right up against its stilled hips. The huge cock twitches and pulses inside of you, unloading what feels like gallons of hot cum right into your womb. You groan out a few unintelligible noises, brain turned to mush, as one last orgasm is pulled from you, thankfully much weaker than the previous ones. You’re so out of it you don’t even notice when Shigaraki steps closer, hand on his dick speeding up until he’s groaning and painting your face with his cum.
Panting heavily, you wearily glance up at Shigaraki, a plea to not share a word of what just happened to anyone already on your tongue. He doesn’t say anything as he tucks himself back into his pants but just by the look in his eyes and the barely concealed smirk, you can tell you’re never going to hear the end of this.
#y'all don't look at this; don't look at me#i gotta say i didn't expect to be outed as a monster-fucker this early in my tumblr career#dubcon#dubcon tw#shigaraki x reader#nomu x reader
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ag! reader on her sweetener/tun tour with Tom in the Front row and She’s constantly interacting with him and talking/ holding hands stuff
Thank u!!!!
hope you like this ;) here’s a pic of the stage for reference (for my non-ari familiars) <3
wc | 1.3k
see u soon
｡☆✼★━━ requests are closed ━━★✼☆｡
“Ladies and gentlemen,” You smile, adjusting the microphone that’s attached to your head. You glance down towards the front of the mosh pit where Tom is located, and you smile a little wider. “And Tom,” you add on quietly, sparking hundreds of screams and cheers. “Welcome to the Sweetener World Tour.”
As the first Act of the tour goes on, you sing your heart out during “bad idea” and “break up with your girlfriend, i’m bored.” As you head backstage for an outfit change and a short interlude, you’re heading back up a bit earlier than usual, having rushed into your next costume so you could interact with the crowd a little more. No doubt, in less than two minutes, your band will be ready to start again, but for now, you enjoy the cheers of excitement that get louder the closer you get towards the front of the stage.
“Hi, everyone!” You say softly, sweetly, giggling into your microphone. You successfully make it to the end of the stage, pausing to gauge the crowd’s reaction and truly take in the sight before you. It’s beautiful, really. “Thank you all for coming. How’re we all doing tonight? We having fun?”
Screams of assurement go around and it’s enough to spark another giggle out of you. You lock eyes with Tom, and almost subconsciously, you walk over to the left side of the stage where he’s at the barrier, by a staircase that leads to the center of the mosh pit. There’s a platform in the middle of the pit where you will eventually perform later in the night, and Tom’s in practically one of the best seats in the entire stadium.
Realizing the space that’s set between the stage and the crowd, you decide to sit on the edge with your legs dangling down off the platform. The security guard moves to your side, watching your safety. You smile at him, reaching for Tom’s hand. He sports a blush, hand connecting with yours and interlacing your fingers.
“Hi, baby,” You say into the microphone. Murmured “aw’s” and cheers go around again. “Everyone say ‘hi’ to my baby, Tom.”
Tom scrunches his face up in that cute fashion, and you chuckle again, admiring his adorableness. Your fans comply, sending their greetings towards Tom, whose blush has grown a cosmic amount.
You pull the microphone away from your face for a brief moment, sending questions towards the Brit’s way. “You’re alright? Need anything? Water?”
He shakes his head with a gentle smile, body against the metal barrier that separates the two of you. “I’m alright. How’re you, Ms. Pop Star?”
You giggle again, this one making it through the speakers and echoing in the large venue. “‘M good.”
Glancing behind you, you realize you still have some time before you’re due on stage again, to sing, that is. Standing up, you send Tom a kiss, one he pretends to catch & pocket. The action catches the eye of a few people — and their cell phones. It’s on twitter in less than a minute.
“Oh-em-gee,” You smile, “We should take a selfie. Should we take a selfie?” You look to your front rowers, who nod enthusiastically, and you grab your cell phone from the crew member that conveniently brought it up for you. “Okay, okay, everyone smile.” You hold the phone up, with you in frame, and you snap a selfie of the entire stadium.
You spin around, walking back over to Tom and capturing a few pictures and videos with him, some of which happen to make it onto your Instagram story. Walking to the center of the stage, you hold your phone up, ready to record.
“Okay, I’m gonna take a video of you all. My sweet, babies, my lovely fans. Everyone get ready to scream.” You’re about to record when you stop, “Wait, should we scream something? Like a lyric?” You laugh into the microphone, a bit indecisive. “I’m a lost cause, honest to god.” You giggle again, something that makes Tom’s smile widen. You walk back over to him.
“Tommy? What should we say? Simultaneously, that is.”
He hums, and you scoot closer to the edge, shoving the pink microphone towards his lips. He chuckles and the microphone catches it, sending it through the speakers. You giggle again.
“Maybe… god is a woman?”
“Ooo,” you bring the mic back, sending Tom another kiss before standing upright. “What do we think? Is that aesthetic enough?”
After a few beats of supportive cheering, you hold up your phone again. “Everyone say ‘god is a woman’ on three, ready? One… two… three!”
It’s a magnificent sight, what you get. The joint voices of your fans goes through your ears, sending shivers up your spines and tingles down your arms. Goosebumps rise on your arm while you end the recording. “Honest to god… honest to god knock me out. That was the coolest fucking thing ever.”
The crowd laughs, something you can hear clearly, and when you turn around, you realize your band is back and ready for action.
“Back to the show, babies,” You frown enthusiastically before running towards Scotty, your choreographer. You hand him your phone while the intro to “R.E.M.” begins.
“Love you, Tommy,” You slip out.
This song is to be done on the floor, alone while the backdrops and digital designs take over and stun the crowd to a high level of impression.
All the while, you’re singing while making eye contact with your London boy. Tom’s silently singing along — a rare occasion for him to sing in public where anyone can record him and upload it.
“Last night,” you sing, “When I was asleep… boy I met you, yuh.” You chuckle, cutely, into the mic again. When the lyric pops up, you can’t help but smirk. “Excuse me, Tom.” You replace the ‘uhm’ with your sweet boyfriend’s name, turning the mic towards the audience for them to finish the lyrics.
The night goes on like that. During “NASA,” you gather, with your dancers, around the edge of the looped stage, holding hands with the fans. When you perform “everytime” on the platform in the center of the pit, you grab Tom’s hand while passing the small set of stairs he’s located by. You do it every time, making sure to at least get a sliver of his fingers. It makes his heart giddy, fills his stomach with butterflies, and makes his eyes love the sight of you even more.
“Before we end tonight,” You pant into the mic, having just performed a song & dance right before the ending act — thank u, next. “I just wanna say, thank you so much for coming, for being here, for supporting me, for listening to my music and being here. Especially thank you to Tom,” You turn to him with your lip jutted out a bit, smiling through an exhale. “For being my number one supporter for all the days and, hopefully, the many more to come. I hope you enjoy this last one,” You smile. “We’ll be right back for ‘thank u, next.’” You smile again, nodding and waving.
You catch sight of Tom, who’s looking at you with such a loving expression that you can’t help yourself. Your feet move before your brain can protest, and you’re running towards the stairs, leaning over the railing just a bit. You’re on the third step, pulling Tom in for a kiss you couldn’t wait for. Slightly, you can sense people are recording, and you smile into the kiss. Tom has to stop himself from moaning aloud.
“See you soon,” you whisper before running off with your backup dancers, finding your way backstage for one final time this night.
#tom holland x reader#tom holland x you#tom holland fic#tom holland x singer!reader#tom holland x ag!reader#ag!reader#tom holland x famous!reader#tom holland fanfic#tom holland fluff#tom holland imagine#tom holland oneshot#tom holland blurb#tom holland angst
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the ukiyo standalone;
park jisung x reader
Jisung is everyone’s joy and prized possession. Being the youngest of his friend group and with his child-like nature, he’s certainly the one that everyone favours. He’s adorable, innocent, pure. You would think he’s well known in college but in actuality, he’s pretty hidden, living his life in the shadow of his friends. He didn’t mind it really. He didn’t need to feel the crowd prying their eyes into his business like his friends, which was why he actually isn’t seen with them often in the first place, he didn’t need to stand out.
genre. fluff, angst, emotional, heart warming aNd heart breaking
word count. 20k~
description. In this current fast pace world, there was never really a time I could take a break. I did choose this path as a lawyer major knowing I would be drowning myself with papers every single night and pulling all-nighters for an inhumane number of days. As much as I want or even need to rest, I never could. This was the path I’ve chosen. And my pride was too high to let myself stop the grind. That is until I made a mistake of calling an unknown number who belonged to a guy named Jisung at the campus library. I thought he was a waste of time till I realised he showed me to slow down, not having to force my body to move with the world’s speed, to be my ukiyo; my floating world.
!as they should masterlist!
Jisung liked doing social experiments. It was practically his side hobby, something he’d do when there wasn’t anything important on his to-do list. He was simply interested at how the students at his campus would react upon weird occurrences around them. It got students talking whenever he did something, the fact that they didn’t know it was his doing is one of the reasons why he does it in the first place.
On this particular night, where Jisung was staring out of his window from his study table that was directly in front of it, giving the clearest view of the stars and especially the bright moon that reflected its light through his cracked open window and onto his study table, he was wondering about what to do next. What would get people to feel weirded out. What would get them to react a certain way.
When an idea came to mind, the light bulb hovering over his head switched on, the gears began to turn. It wasn’t the most brilliant idea, but it could go both ways. Either the students don’t bother even taking in their surroundings to notice it, or suffer the loss of not getting help. Jisung’s a dance major but he liked doing these projects for the fun of it so might as well. Jisung peeled off a random piece of sticky note from the stack with his other stationeries. Clicking his pen, he immediately went to writing.
When times you aren’t feeling fine, just call this number. I’ll try to be available 24/7.
Jisung frowned slightly and tilted his head. If he were to paste his numbers all over the school, he would probably be bombarded with calls every two seconds. It also didn’t make sense for him to be available 24/7. Clearly that was impossible. His frown deepened. He thought for a long moment, trying to phrase a sentence that was more suitable for what he wanted to do. With a smack of his lips and an unsure hiss, he grabbed a new sticky note and started again.
Glad you came to notice this note laying wherever you are in the library. Feeling stressed? Need someone to talk to? Simply need a friend? My number’s below. You don’t have to know who I am. I’m just here to help you out, mentally I guess. I’m available from 1PM-3AM. Call whenever you feel the need to. Have a nice day :D (don’t worry I’m not some stalker or whatever i’m just a bored student here)
Jisung clicked his pen against the table to close it, his eyes scanning over his words, which might he add was beautifully written, like calligraphy. Jisung couldn’t help but crack a small smile at that thought. He threw the pen off to the side and went to his printer with the sticky note, now moving on to making copies. He wanted to copy a reasonable number, not too little till no one noticed or too many till it was extremely obvious, but well enough for him to get at least a small chance of getting a response. With a number in mind, he began printing.
The next day, he went for his lecture in the morning. He preferred having the morning lectures just so he could spend the rest of his day doing whatever. And on today’s agenda was the pasting of his notes. With the weight of his bag pulling his shoulders and back down, he wished he could go back to the dorms right now and start of his assignment but he wanted to settle this first.
He entered the library. It wasn’t too crowded. Students were fairly spaced apart from each other in the study area, sparse. Some students were at shelves. With his hands still shoved into the pockets of his black Adidas jacket, he make his way over to a random study table. He needed to do this quick to avoid suspicion. But why would students notice anyway? They had their heads digged into whatever work that was incomplete.
Jisung slowed himself down and took out the a note from the small file he had in his bag along woth a large clear tape role. He had to put his bag down, searching for the scissors. He cut a reasonable amount of tape after placing the note in the bottom right corner and placed it over top, sealing the note onto the table. Jisung back away for a moment, taking a long look at it. It was small, but still noticeable. With a satisfied shrug, he went on to do the same for some other tables, even going to bookshelves and randomly pasting them anywhere he wished.
What he didn’t know, was that he was being watch.
I had my brain wrapped around this essay for who knows how long now. Hours, days. Having to redo my research for the fith time was about to have my head spinning till it lolled, out of energy and brain power to hold up. I stared down at the notes scattered all over. The table was a huge mess, loosing track of how many pages I’ve flipped and how many articles I read online, as well as time of course. I sighed quietly, leaning back and closing my eyes, wanting to rest them for a brief moment.
When my eyelids opened back, I couldn’t help but notice the person that had been hovering around the study tables for far too long. It was distracting, watching him move from table to table at the corner of my eye. And though my attention had been on my papers, he was still to be seen in my peripheral vision. I blinked my eyes rapidly and shook my head, refusing to let a small matter tick me off to the point where I wasn’t able to do my work.
I straightened my back and adjusted my shoulders. Closing back my eyes, I took in a deep breath, chest puffing up as I gave myself a determined nod. I shot my eyes back open and with full exhilaration running through my veins, I got back to work, shutting the world out so it was just me and my work, wanting to get it done and over with.
Again I lost track of time, but in a much more productive way than how I was in the morning. I didn’t have classes today, making full use of my free time on my work. I pressed the final key on my keyboard, ending my essay with an exhale of satisfaction. I leaned back into the seat, throwing my head back till it went past the backrest. I placed my hands on the arms of the chair, and it was then did I realise that the library was extremely quiet.
I took in my surroundings, slow scanninv my eyes over the library. It was already dark, some areas pitch black while other were visible with the help of the moonlight shining through the windows. It was only the light at my study table that illuminated the area around with a orange hue. I didn’t mind being the inly one here, but sometimes it felt eerily quiet, like tonight. I grabbed my phone that was shoved into my bag. Lifting it up in front of me, the lockscreen showed itself, as well as the ungodly hour blaring at me.
“Three in the morning? How did I even...” I tilted my head slowly in awe, surpised at just how time flew by when I was immersed in completing my assignment. I read through my essay, having to close my eyes halfway due to how bright the screen of my laptop was. I was scanning through the first paragraph when I immediately went to shut down, already too tired to have one last scan through and making the mental decision of doing it tomorrow.
I packed up immediately, the thought of my bed and sleeping now being the number one priority. I shoved all my things in my tote bag, slinging it on my right shoulder. I was already taking off, a mere few steps away from the exit when I saw something shining at the corner of my eye. I stopped and turned on my heel to the study table. Slowly, my eyes trailed to the bottom right corner where the source of my pause came from. Turned out it was simply the light reflected of a tape. But upon further inspection, I went closer noticing it wasn’t just tape, but a note.
I read it over, having to brush some strands of hair behind my ear that was annoyingly covering the note. I quirked an eyebrow in a questioning manner, leaning back to my standing form once I was done reading, yet my eyes were glued to the impressively written note. “Who gives out their number just like that?” I couldn’t help but wonder under my breath. Too tired to even register any more information, I let this weird occurrence slid out of my mind, continuing to make my way out of the library and back to my dorm where I instantly fell asleep with no second thoughts.
The next day I got up, the light shining through the small holes of my curtain blinding me awake. I searched for my phone under my pillow, plugging out its charger while I scrolled through my social media, specifically Twitter. The first thing that popped up on my timeline was a tweet from the campus’s very own account. No one knows who it was made by, but you can bet that whoever they are has their eyes everywhere around the school, tweeting about the latest gossips or news around campus grounds. Today’s one sparked a memory from last night.
Someone’s at it again stirring up the attention of our students by having their number out in the open for everyone to see in our library. Was there more to it than just wanting to offer help through call service?
I scoffed, glancing away for a moment before retrieving my gaze back to my phone. “Do they actually want people calling them?” I asked myself while scrolling my thumb up to look at the other tweets below. It did come to my attention that night, now picturing the note in my mind. I didn’t remember the number, but it was there, and something about it was drawing the curiosity in me to find out more. With a grunt I shot myself out of bed, getting ready to head to the library again to study.
I hadn’t expected how much time would pass by just from me studying. I’ve been in the library for almost a full day. I was being sent on an emotional roller coaster ride. Some hours being a breeze as I studied the easiest topics, while others had me wanting to rip my hair off my scalp from trying to shove all the information in my brain when it felt like it was at its full capacity. I wasn’t myself today. I kept looking at my phone that was a distraction, which was something I never did at all while studying. I was off the edge.
With exams coming up in a month’s time, I knew I was studying too much too early. But I always had to stick to my life motto. “Get it done and over with.” I muttered to myself. But tonight, at one in the morning, my body and mind couldn’t register any more information. I couldn’t. I was tired, exhausted. Drained. The stress came barreling in full force and I hated how I was making myself feel this way by always being on edge and doing things too fast to keep up with everything else in life.
Wanting to clear my head, I began gathering some of my notes, stacking them up to the clean the table that was in a huge mess. My eyes have grown used to this sight, but I was simply cleaning for the sake of procrastinating and putting off the desire to complete aoother topic. When I was done cleaning one section of the table, something struck my attention. I looked to the bottom right corner of the table. And there it was. The note that’s been in the hidden folds of my mind when I pushed them back to focus on studying.
My eyes went from left to right, specifically at the number since I’ve remembered the note unusually vividly. “Should I?” I whispered. I looked around, no one was to be seen. Weird, since I’d usually see at least one student here despite the late hour. I exhaled softly, letting the cold air that circulated around me in the night cool my skin while I picked up my phone from the table and keyed in the number. I wasn’t thinking about what I was getting myself into. At this point, I was already overloaded with my studies that I was malfunctioning, clearly not thinking straight.
I placed the phone up to my ear, leaning forward and letting my upper body rest against the table while I placed my chin in the palm of my free hand. The ringing went on for five times, and I was about to hang up when I heard the sound of the phone being picked up. “Hey. Who’s this?” It was a guy. Could it be the one that I saw lurking around that day? I gulped and cleared my throat, opening my mouth and letting out an “Uh..” while trying to figure out what to say. “Your number is here. One the study table at the library.” I simply said, wondering what he’ll respond with.
Sudden shuffles could be heard. It went on for a brief moment till he exclaimed, “Oh! Right, right. Hey! I’m at your service, what do you need?” His voice sounded dry and coarse, like he had forgotten to drink water before he slept. Was he sleeping and picked up while he’s half asleep? I ran a hand through my hair, adjusting to get comfortable. “A listening ear. That’s all I need.” I murmured through the speaker. I had to let it all out. And it came to the point where I’d rather actually talk to a stranger about my problems than anyone I knew. But that’s how we all are nowadays, right? Too self conscious and simply wanting to put on an act for the whole world.
“Go on. I’m all ears.” He replied back, sounding attentive and somewhat interested. I didn’t want to think much of it. He was clearly like this to everyone else who called for “his service”. Being receptive and responsive. Kind and willing. That’s what he sounded like. The first person to actually say something that felt like all those things at once, to me.
“Do...” I trailed off, shaking my head and wondering what I even wanted to say in the first place. I smacked my lips. “Don’t you just feel tired? Of like the whole world. Everything and everyone around you. You’re tired physically and emotionally.” He hummed in response. “Of course I do. A lot of people feel that.” I scoffed softly, biting my bottom lip. “Yes but, the other thing that’s making me tired... is myself. I have this habit of just overloading my brain with lots of things. It feel as if I’m making myself stress on purpose.” I couldn’t help but chuckle weakly as the words left my lips.
“I always wanted to the best I could be. And that led to me just grinding and grindinv everyday with no end. I barely get to sleep, and even if I did. I’ll wake up and the whole cycle will repeat itself. I fucking hate that I’m in this loop. But I chose to be here. I can’t break out.” My voice began to crack. It took me awhile to realise that I was crying till my tears fell on the papers and made its mark by crinkling the paper while it soaked up my tears. I blotched them off my cheeks with the back of my hand.
“Hey, if-”
“And don’t.” I cut him off instantly before he could even utter another word. “Don’t tell me other people are going through the same thing.” I shut my eyes close, heaving a slow and heavy sigh. “I know. Everyone in my major goes through the same process. I’m weak. Even though I try to act like I’m the best student. My tolerance level can go down the drain for all I care.” I paused for a moment, mentally telling himt to resume whatever he wanted to say but knew he couldn’t read my mind.
But from the pause he knew what it meant and picked it up quickly, clearing his throat. “I was about to say if you want to cry, you can. I can tell that you’re holding it in and I don’t even need to see you.” I sniffled, the feeling of wanting to burst into tears again came about, rising in my body and making my chest clench. “It’s okay.” As if on cue, I screamed, cried, poured it all out. I threw my phone down, the call still on as I wailed into my palms, pressing my face against them. I’ve never had such a breakdown in months, simply shoving it to the back of my mind and kept ignoring it till it came out like this. A full blown terror.
I wanted to talk, yet my mouth couldn’t form any words. All that came out were sniffles as I calmed myself down. “I don’t really have much to say on this. And you probably don’t even want to hear me talk but you should take a break. Really. Just one day. You need it. Because you seriously don’t sound okay.” I couldn’t help but breathe out a short laugh, a very weak and effortless one. “I never thought of that, Captain Obvious.” I rolled my eyes, a smile cracking through for a brief moment.
He chuckle on the other end of the line. “You thought of it but didn’t put it into action.” He stated, sounding slightly firm. “Yes.” I admitted dryly. A few beats of silence passed, I could hear his breathing, calm and soothing. “I think I should, um, go now?” It was suppose to be a statement but due to me trying to recover from my mess, it came out as a question. I could hear him licking his lips. “Yes of course. Oh and hey.” “Yeah?”
“Do you need help with that rest day of yours?” I didn’t reply, giving it a long throught. “I probably won’t even be doing it.” I said through a sigh, beginning to pack up my things to head out of the library. “But you should. Actually, you will. I want to make sure of it.” I couldn’t help but furrow my eyebrows at his unexpected tone of determination. “Don’t you have other people to attend to for your call service?” I questioned.
“You’re actually the first one.” I could tell he was feeling rather embarrassed, letting out a tight laugh after his statement. “And I don’t even know who you are.” I was now walking out of the library, phone still to the ear while I adjusted my tote bag on my shoulder. “For starters, I’m a dance major. I’d like to mostly keep my identity hidden for now. Unless you want to meet.”
I gaped my mouth open ever so slightly, somewhat in disbelief. “You want to meet?” I echoed his question back to him, head tilted mere degrees to the side. “Well I have to make sure you have that rest day of yours. How can I when I don’t meet you?” I chuckled softly, the corner of my lips perking up. “I’ll think about it. At least I have your number now.”
“Always at your service, miss. Have a good night.”
With that, the call ended. I didn’t realisd just how much time passed by simply talking to him. It went by so fast. It was already getting pretty late by the time I checked my phone for the time. I made my way back to the dorm, the cold breeze of the night kissing my skin gently and blowing strands of hair into my face that I had to brush off. I looked up to the sky, for once the world was quiet, at rest, and just for these few hours, I had always admired how I could breathe the freedom of mere minutes while I went to the dorm.
Yet, while admiring the ink black sky, the conversation I had with the call service guy resonated in my head, I laughed at how weird it was, pouring all that I’ve bottled up till now to someone who was of no significance to me. He probably won’t even remember we had this conversation, only passing it on as his first service call. He was also only doing his job, simply being there for me to talk. Why was I even taking this seriously? I could never rest. I could never take a break. I always had moments like these to treasure at heart before I awaken to everything going full speed yet again.
I walked to the lecture hall, watching students happily walking on campus with their friends with the sky a mix of blue and white. It was a regular day. Hopefully, if I didn’t have any assignment and I could focus on studying.
Just then, a whole ton of screaming could be heard, but it was muffled and drowned out due to how far I was from the source. But it sounded horrendous. As if a boy band had just entered the campus and send billions of fangirls to their way. I wanted to continue walking but the squeals of excitement got louder and closer to me. I turned my head to the back. “Ah... why didn’t I think about that?”
There’s the group of guys again. Too popular for their own good. Everyone was shouting their names, swooning over each one of them. I wonder how they didn’t find having to deal with that annoying. Or perhaps it was just an act. I backed away from the hallway to watch them strut by casually, the group of girls following closely behind. But just then, for a brief moment, a guy wearing a black adidas jacket walked past me, mutttering “I really shouldn’t have followed you guys today.” He rolled his eyes and went out of sight. I turned my head to the right, where I could now see his back. He looked petite yet lean, with orange hair of a natural tone, the under part of it being black. What stood out to me the most was his adidas jacket. Wasn’t that the one from the library?
“Do you guys actually go through that every single day?” Jisung groaned out finally taking a breath of fresh air as they entered the room, feeling as if he got swallowed by all the attention throughout their trip to the playroom. Mark picked up a basketball from the side and began bouncing it casually to the couch where the rest were getting settled. “Today’s especially crazy because it’s our group’s anniversary.” Jisung gave an unimpressed look. “Do you think I don’t know that?” He shrugged in a blasé, god-could-care sort of way.
“How’s your call service thing going? We know it’s was your doing. My timeline’s blowing up about it this whole time.” Jeno questioned. Jisung sat at the corner of the couch. placing his forearm on the armrest and leaning his body to it. “Funny how it’s all girls and they all talked about how they couldn’t get you guys to notice them. It always had something to do with one of you.” Jisung laughed carelessly, remembering back the calls he’d been receiving throughout today. Jisung tried his best to suppress his laughter to not sound rude. Even if Jisung found it ridiculous, he wasn’t in the place to say anything about it. His call service was meant for him to console the people who called, no matter the situation he was being told.
However, another thought that came to focus was the call that he specifically had late in the night. It was his first call. And whoever that girl was, she certainly made an impression on Jisung. How she was letting it all out, being free enough to tell someone like him about such deep feelings. It was raw and transparent. The conversation never left his mind. Jisung zinged back to attention when he heard Haechan scoff loudly. He turned to him, seeing him leaned back, shoulders and back relaxed and cool while he had his weight placed on his leg and his arms folded. He then clicked his tongue and said, “Not surprised.” nonchalantly, clearly showing that he was already used to the large amount of girls swooning over him through his voice.
“So are you guys free tonight? We could take a break and hang out.” Everyone nodded their heads followed by hums filling the room signaling that everyone agreed, except for Jisung. “Jisung, you in?” Renjun asked. Jisung took in a deep breath, glancing sideways and giving it a thought. He slowly shook his head. “Why? Are you busy?” Chenle asked quizzically. “Have an assignment.” Jisung blurted out, though he had other reasons.
The rest planned to head out together after spending time in the playroom. Jisung was left in his dorm, pacing back and forth from one end of his room to the other, eyes looking to his phone each time to turned. What was he waiting for? He wanted to ask himself, as if he didn’t already knew the answer. He was so drawn in to her. The way she spoke, the honesty in her voice. It’s as if he didn’t even need to look at her to know how she was moving and what she was doing.
Jisung scratched his head furiously and on the edge of his bed heavily, grabbing his phone and letting it sit in hand loosely. “She wouldn’t call again, would she? But I did imply that she could meet me if she wanted to. She might not even call again.” Jisung muttered to himself constantly, hopping from one possibility to another, raising his hopes up and bringing them back down. Jisung groaned loudly in frustration.
“Why am I even...” Jisung threw his phone to his bed and stood up again with a grunt, wanting to resume his assignment that was almost finished. All it took was one call to have him this tangled and have his mind wrapped around a simple phone call. Worst part is he didn’t even knew if he could ever see her. He could only depend on his chances and luck that she’d want to contact him again.
This time I decided to study in my dorm, too lazy to go down to the library. It wasn’t the best environment to study. My bed was literally mere inches away from my study table, constantly wanting to pull me into throwing myself on it and shut out each time I looked at it. It was a bad decision to have my room planned out like that, but I was too lazy to move it. I tapped the end of my pen against the table rapidly, my mind going black as I simply stared at a random spot on the wall. I wasn’t having the adrenaline to do my work today. I was simply doing it for the sake of doing it, not having a clear goal.
I turned to my phone, being a remembrance of my call with the service guy. I had thought about it the whole day, whether I should give him a call. But I was overthinking it. What if he’s busy? What if he had other people’s call to deal with? All sorts of questions popped up, but after giving it a long thought, I flipped my phone screen faced down harshly, shaking my head vigorously and tensing my hands on my scalp.
“Concentrate.” I stated out boldly to myself right smack in the face. I repeated the same word as I got ready to resume my studying. I couldn’t be thinking about a mere call. It was just a call. One time I let out my now spilled out feelings. I was empty now, so there shouldn’t be a need for another call. I could continue what I always did.
Jisung’s friends had been realising how he’s been zoning out more often than usual. And he wasn’t as outwardly as he had always been. They pampered him a lot and treated him like their own child. But there was something that made Jisung feel different around them. Jaemin nudged Jisung in the elbow, making him jolt to sit up right in shock and shooting his head to Jaemin. “Huh?” Jisung let out.
“Have you been okay lately? You seem to have something on your mind often.” Jaemin asked, his eyes scanning the room and seeing the rest of their friends minding their own businesses. Jisung blinked his eyes rapidly and shook his head. “You sure?” Jisung puffed up his cheeks and let the air out through a sigh. “You know my call service?” Jisung began, he knew Jaemin would recognise the slightest change in Jisung’s behaviour. Everyone did, that was how much they cared about him. But Jaemin was the first one to bring it up so might as well. Everyone will know eventually.
Jaemin hummed in response. “My first call. It was very late into the night when. It’s a girl. And hers, was different than the rest I’ve received. As she talked, I felt that she was hiding nothing from me. That she was letting it all out for me to hear, not caring about who I was.” Jisung whispered. “I felt her desperation, her cries of help. Though she said she’ll manage it somehow, I got the feeling that she wouldn’t be able to. That she’ll crumble the more she continued.” Jaemin nodded his head slowly, processing Jisung’s words. “And so?”
“I mentioned to her that if she ever needed a call, she could do so. Or better if we meet. But she never called. And I don’t know who she is, which is what’s been on my mind. The frustration that she made such an impact yet I haven’t found out who she is.” Jaemin puckered his lips and looked upwards thoughtfully. “Did she mention anything about herself? Her major, or anything?” Jisung recalled their conversation that was etched in his mind. Jisung frowned and shook his head.
“What time did she call?” “One or two in the morning?” Jaemin gasped in disgust. “Who the hell-”
“Law and psychology students.” Jeno suddenly came into the conversation seamlessly and casually. Jisung leaned back and raised brows. “Really?” Jisung asked. Jeno scoffed and nodded. “They have tons of shit to study. From what Jaehyun tells me, they’re always staying up super late going through papers.” Jeno imitated a gag and a shiver in objection. “I could never.” He added.
“There’s so many students in those majors. How am I going to find her?” Jeno arched a questioning brow. “Find who?” Jisung sighed and motioned a hand to Jeno while looking at Jaemin, raising his brows for a moment. Jaemin waved a hand at Jeno when Jisung dropped his hand on his lap. “I’ll tell you guys later.” With that, Jeno shrugged mindlessly and went off. Jaemin adverted his attention back to Jisung, who looked even more discouraged than before.
“My poor baby. Listen, I’m sure you made an impression just like how she did on you. If she doesn’t call again, who knows. She might try finding you instead of giving you a call. Or you can just pray and gamble your luck. If you want, I’ll help you find her. You know my connections always come in handy.” Jaemin flashed a reassuring smile that Jisung didn’t hesitate to reciprocate, though it was smaller. “I’ll figure something out.” Jisung muttered, clicking his tongue.
I didn’t want to do this at first, but it kept bugging me the whole day, as if it was something that just had to be done by occupying my mind for almost the whole day. I walked out of the lecture hall, head scanning across the campus with my eyes wide open and attentive to find him.
From what I remembered, he said he was a performing arts major. And the only person I knew in that major was the one and only Ten, who I always saw lurking around the cafés on campus while I made my way back to the dorm. Luckily, I saw him sitting on a bench outside one of the cafés, munching on something while he played his phone. I instantly ran up to him, feeling a sense of hope rising while I accidentally poked Ten in the arm too hard to get his attention, causing him to wince. He looked up and recognised me, instantly flashing a welcoming smile.
“Oh, hey!” Ten shouted, his eyes forming a thin line while he waved at me with his chocolate croissant in hand. “Can I ask something briefly and perhaps even do me a favour?” I asked, slow and nervous with uncertainty. Ten raised his eyebrows quizzically. “Mm sure.” He simply replied. I exhaled and looked him in the eye. “I’m assuming you’re having your break now. Would it be possible for you to take me to your practice room? I know it’s random but I have something I need to check.”
Ten didn’t reply for a long minute, probably wondering why such a vague request came out from someone who would most likely have her time occupied almost 24/7. After waiting in anticipation, he finally shrugged and rose from the bench with a grunt. He proceeded to stretch his back, turning side to side and sighing in satisfaction. “Alright. I can take you there now.” With that, he went forward down the hall, walking as if leaving me behind. I stared at his back for a moment before quickly moving up to meet his pace.
We didn’t talk on the way there. Luckily I didn’t have to worry about us being awkward since the walk from the cafés to the practice room was only a few minutes. I was looking around when I almost bumped into Ten due to his sudden stop of motion and turning to face a door. I peeked inside and I could already see the full wall mirror that I saw dancers usually use. I turned to Ten, who jerked his head to the door, motioning me to open and enter the room.
The moment I placed my hand on the door handle, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of nervousness in me, wondering if I would even find him since I have zero idea on how he looked like. The only evidence I had was the fact that I saw someone wearing an adidas jacket who I assumed to be the one I was looking for. But that was such an unreliable assumption that I knew I couldn’t fully trust, but still try to find a way to use it to my advantage either way.
I pushed the door open, instantly bombarded with hard stomps coming from the people dancing. I felt the floor shake tremendously from the intimidating impact that created. The music was blasting from the speaker in front of them, along with a bottle which I assumed to be marked as the center of the stage. I watched silently, feeling Ten’s presence behind. With a glance over my shoulder, I could tell he was eyeing the performance with much concentration and intensity, eyes squinting as if analysing each and every one of their movements to a T.
I brought my focus back on them. It didn’t take my eyes long for it to focus on one person. The adidas jacket guy. One guy was wearing it. He was also wearing a black cap, blonde hair poking out from the bottom. His figure was small yet attractively lean. I couldn’t see his face at all. Yet, I was so drawn to him. Not just because he could’ve been the one I was looking for, but the fact that his dance was engaging, and nothing compared to the rest.
They got to a moment where everyone exited and it was just him alone in the center of the room while others waited by the sidelines. My mouth gaped open slightly, watching him go. His movements are seemingly perfect, every part of his body moving fluidly like water yet intricate and hard hitting. It was impactful, loud. He stood out, and I could picture the whole room going dark with a single light shining on him, and only him. I could tell he was expressing himself and giving his all. I didn’t need to have background knowledge on dance to see that in him.
The dance lasted for about five minutes, and I had my eyes locked on Adidas Jacket guy the whole time, too immersed to the point where I didn’t even feel Ten poking my shoulder. “_____?” He called out, making me blink my eyes rapidly upon hearing his voice and turning my head around. “Yeah?” Ten ruffled his hair. “They’re done. You can check whatever you need to check now.” I let out a soft, “Um...” while turning my head back to the front, eyes glazing over the room and looking for Adidas Jacket. I stood there frozen, not exactly sure what I even wanted to do in the first place.
I turned around fully to face Ten, adjusting my tote bag. “Actually, I think I’m good. I’ll go now. See you around?” It was more of a greeting than a question. But either way, Ten downshifted his head and moved his body out of my way to the door. “You too. Come more often if you’d like.” Ten smiled kindly. I simply reciprocated back the smile and walked out, not saying anything about Ten’s last comment.
At the dorm, I had my arms and legs spread out while I laid on my bed, blankly staring at the plain white ceiling while I tried to connect the dots, or even just simply having everything laid and mapped out in my mind. How was I even sure that could be him? His physique seemed to be similar from what I remembered, the jacket was another clue too. But how could I confirm it? I have yet to check the time the moment I came back, and I already knew hours had gone by.
“Who even are you?” I asked to the ceiling, directing it to the mysterious call service guy who had my mind hung up in him and having my busy life off balance.
“Who are you?” Jisung questioned silently, though it was loud enough that Renjun had to peek his head over the bunk bed to look at Jisung who was below. “What are you talking about?” Renjun asked. Jisung turned his head to the side, showing Renjun his side profile and closing his eyes with a quiet sigh. “It’s nothing.” Renjun shrugged and headed back to sleep.
Jisung had his mind on her the entire time, who could she be, how he could find her, and even where to start? He knew nothing about her. And that’s the thing. He didn’t know exactly what was making him think about her so much, it was just their call in general. He had zero information on her. And if what Jeno said was true, then he was probably thinking about going through such extend with his idea to get even a glimpse of her.
That very day once he ended his dance practice which was around evening with the sun beginning to shine brightly, he went to the library. What was his plan exactly? He wanted to wait in the library till he could find her. But how would he even know? He didn’t even know why he was doing this in the first place. He was simply placing his bet on faith and praying that the hours he was about to spend in the most dreadful place ever would not go to waste.
Not knowing what to do, he ended up huddled in a corner of the library, using the bookshelves on both sides of him to lean back and rest his head. He hated being in libraries, he hated anything to do with academics, which was why he chose to pursue his passion for dance. Though there was still dance theory, it wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. But being surrounded by books that offered him no information he wanted to know about had him feeling dizzy and bored to death.
He checked the time on his phone, eyes widening at how late it was. He felt his stomach squeezing, a low grumble coming from it while desperately asking for food to enter his system. He face suddenly lit up, remembering how he had leftover bread from the bread store he dropped by during his break. He instantly took it out and ate, watching the sun come down through the windows and turning the sky from blazing red to ink black, welcoming the night with the moonlight shining in.
He has yet to notice anyone that caught his eye. He started to think that he could have possibly missed his chance. What if she was here but left when Jisung had his guard down? What if she wasn’t even here to begin with? Should he just leave and not waste more time? Jisung was desperately holding onto his last string of hope, that was already fraying and could snap in a matter of seconds. Too tired of staying in one place, he decided to take a walk around the library.
Jisung went to the study area, the spot where he stood from gave him a clear view of everyone in their seats. Fair enough, there were students who looked like they were about to stay the whole night here, which made Jisung sniffled in disgust. How could anyone even put up with that much studying?
He was roaming and scanning his eyes lazily over the books tucked neatly and tightly on the shelves, taking long strides while he walked. Suddenly, his phone vibrated in his hand. He brought it up in front of him, seeing an unknown number displayed. Picking up the call, and he greeted, “Hey! Always at your service. What do you need?” in the most cheerful way he could put out. Though the exaggerated sigh he let out while picking up the call might’ve been heard from the other end.
“Um hey. I don’t think you remembered me but I’m the first one to call. You know uh, stressed out girl? Need a rest day girl?” Jisung widened his eyes at the realisation. It was her. “Uh...” He stammered, quickly bringing his phone down to take a screenshot of her number before placing it back on his ear. “Hey! How have you been? Glad you called again.” Jisung turned around to lean again the bookshelf, arms folded while he looked down.
“It’s been fine.” She replied. Jisung could already feel the uneasiness in her tone, shining through her words. “You aren’t.” Jisung stated outwardly, unintentionally sounding harsh. “Have you taken your rest day?” Jisung asked out of pure curiosity. This was the moment of lucky coincidence, one that he had to make full use of so he wouldn’t let her slip out of his grasp. “Not exactly? I’m at the library again. Had to complete a project.” Jisung’s eyes widened again, this time till his eye ball could’ve fallen out of his eye sockets.
Jisung quickly and hurriedly made his way to the study area, where he last stood. And there she was. He could feel the hairs behind his neck standing upright like soldiers with goosebumps being sent all over his body. She’s the only student there, the orange lamp illuminating the small area surrounding her. Jisung could only see her back unfortunately. Jisung would’ve ran up to her and surprised her. But something in him made him want to just admire her from afar. “You seem to be putting that rest day off? Have it tomorrow. It’s a Friday either way.” Jisung mentioned, eyes narrowing down on her back.
Jisung watched as she sighed and a ran a hand through her hair quickly, somewhat in distress. “Can you force me to?” She whispered, lowering her voice. Jisung blinked his eyes for a moment. “You want me to force you? I don’t want you feeling forced.” She chuckled through the phone, sending a shiver down Jisung’s spine. “I know I won’t do it on my own will. I’m just like that. Like I said before, I’m basically driving myself into insanity trying to keep up with my work. Always grinding, always on the edge. And I can never slip off once.”
I called on impulse. My hands couldn’t keep away from typing in the same number now permanent on the bottom right corner of the table. As I hear him speak on the other end, I weirdly felt safe, and comfort. A sense of calmness. “I’m anxious that if I shut myself from the world from one day, I’ll miss out on a lot, and just stress over it while I try getting everything done to be back on the same level.” I gulped, laughing weakly. “I’m stressing myself for no reason.”
Jisung walked from the back of the bookshelves to shift his angle of sight, attempting to get a better look of her instead of just her back. He managed to get a better view, but the side of her face was covered by her hair as she kept looking down on the table, which only made Jisung frown. “Did you consider about the meet up?” Jisung questioned, peeking his head upwards and standing on his toes, trying everything he can he get a glimpse of her without actually approaching.
“Why do you want to meet me? Hasn’t there been anyone else that called you service? You are required to comfort them too. Why am I so important that you would even want to meet me?” Jisung left a long pause. He never expected such a thought. He didn’t know how to reply either. He bit the inside of his cheek, glancing sideways as he tried to force something out, knowing that she would have already suspected something from the long silence he gave. “If I’m being honest, the other calls were boring. Calls that have only been made once. You’re the only person who called back.” Truthfully, he had many other answers, but he all got blocked out when he narrowed his eyes down at her back.
“So me stressing over my life is much more interesting than the rest? I’ll take that as a compliment.” Jisung let out a soft chuckle, taking note to keep his voice low so he wouldn’t get caught. “Sure. Mm if you would escape to anywhere, where would you go?” She hummed in reply, most probably thinking long and hard. “I would...” She trailed, but it was followed by another longer pause. “Actually, I read about a Japanese term before. It’s ukiyo, the floating world.”
Jisung nodded his head, taking it in. “It when someone being detached from the bothers of life.” She sighed loudly through the phone, but Jisung could hear it clearly from the bookshelves. “I wish I could experience that floating world.” Her words grew into a whisper till it became inaudible at the end. Jisung saw her tilting her head down lower to the table, eventually using her forearm as a rest for her head. “Oh I have an idea.” Jisung replied quickly. “What if I become your so-called Peter Pan? Like, I can take you to Neverland for as long as you need. And that Neverland is just for you. It can be anything you want it to be.” Jisung suggested.
She laughed through the phone, a soft laugh that made Jisung’s already wavered heart skip another beat. “I’d love that.” Suddenly, she pushed her chair back, rising up from her seat. Jisung’s heart began to race, swiftly and silently turning his body to the back of the bookshelf. She was walking to the bookshelves a few rows down where he was at. He pressed himself up against the books in anxiety. “And what if I give you the free will to make Neverland? How would you want it to be? Because I know nothing about having a break.” Jisung heard her footsteps, one foot down followed by a few seconds of silence before placing down the next. It was slow and throwing Jisung off guard, thinking about what he’d do once she began to step close.
“I have two options. I’d either fill it with the things you love, or fill it with things I love and have you explore.” Jisung slid over to the nexy bookshelf ahead in fear, now keeping his voice lower than how it initially was. “I’d rather choose the latter. What do you like doing?” Jisung stared down at the floor. “Dancing, obviously. I like to hang out with my friends. Going out to the pet store just to look at hamsters.” Jisung and her giggled softly after hearing him say the last line.
“Hamsters? That’s cute.” Jisung took awhile to process the next part. He suddenly saw a pair of feet, inches away from his. He instantly shot his head up, seeing her standing in front of him. He tilted his head down a few degrees, realising that she was a lot shorter than him and needed to level the eye contact. For some reason, Jisung’s ribcage began to clench, suffocating his lungs and not letting a single grasp of air into his system as he looked at her. She wasn’t breathing either. The pin drop silence fill the small gap of air between them.
I brought my phone down from my ear, letting my hand fall to my side and my phone loosely hand by my fingers that wrapped around it. I glanced down for a moment before looking back up to him, he was extremely tall. “Wait you’re...” I tried to recall my memory while I took a close look at him, specifically his physique and body structure. It looked exactly like the one that caught my eye back at the practice room. “Were you the one dancing?” I questioned, not sure how to phrase it.
He tilted his head to the side and slowly nodded his head. “Um I’m always dancing?” He replied back with another question. But his head slowly tilted back straight, as if something had dawned on him. “You! Were you the one that came in the practice room that other day?!” He shouted, leaned back in shock as he covered his mouth that immediately gaped open at the realisation. I blinked my eyes rapidly and nodded my head. “Adidas jacket guy. It’s you.” I almost copied his posture entirely as I remembered.
The blonde hair, the thin yet lean body. It all matched. It was him. The cap didn’t give me a clear view before. But now, his face was right in front of me. And he was attractive. He had that baby face. All features of him were stunning and fit perfectly into his small face. He even had the looks to be an idol even, especially with those dance skills. “I’m Jisung. Park Jisung.” He finally introduced himself. In all honesty, I didn’t picture him to look like this while we chatted, his voice was low, and didn’t exactly suit the kind of build he had. “_____.” He hummed in response.
“This is...” Jisung broke his eye contact with me, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck while he breathed out a chuckle. “An unexpected way to meet. How’d you even find me?” I flashed a devious smile. “You weren’t hard to notice. I could hear shuffling right behind me then I heard your voice.” I shook my head. “What were you doing here though?” Jisung stammered, struggling to even form a sentence of reply. He looked like he was hiding the shakiness under his skin. “I thought I could find you by waiting here in the library.”
I squinted my eyes at his answer. So was he trying to find me all this time while I tried to do the same? “You actually waited here for hours?!” I couldn’t help but raise my voice a notch, too shocked when he downshifted his head. Why would he go through such lengths? Did he not think about the factors? Like how I would’ve not even come here in the first place? Or that I’d walk out and he’ll miss his chance? I had all those questions wrapped around my mind, but as much as I wanted to ask, all I could let out was, “So, Peter Pan.” I stated out loud, resuming the conversation we had on the phone.
Jisung smiled. It was a friendly smile. A warm one that embraced the space around them in the coldness of the dark. It also made him look a hundred times more attractive, with his eye smile that looked as if the world got brighter, and with his teeth showing. He kind of resembled a hamster, oddly enough. “Looks like I’m your Peter Pan now.” Jisung clasped his hands behind his back. “And my first order of business is getting you out of whatever hell hole you’re suffering from. And I don’t care what work you have to do. I’m not going to make you do it.” Jisung shook his head furiously, his bright orange-blonde hair swooshing as he did so, making it clear to me that it was extremely as light and fluffy as it looked to be.
“I’ll clear up my day. I have no lessons tomorrow so I’d usually study-” Jisung brought a finger up in front of my face, articulating it from left to right which a frown. “Nope. None of that. Being serious when I say you need a break. I feel like you have mental breakdowns like the one when you first called like once every week.” Jisung said, a soft hint of whining shining through his tone. “Wait do you?”
I bore my eyes into his, face feigned expressionless. “I mean, I had two mental breakdowns so far. That’s not bad, considering how many times I force myself not to.” I folded my arms, taking a step back to place my weight on one leg as I stood nonchalantly. “Yeah. But you still aren’t living your best life.” Jisung bent forward and smiled innocently, with eyes that looked into my soul and read my heart and mind.
“Pack up. You’re not studying anymore. Sleep. And I’ll meet you tomorrow at 2. Wake up at your own time. Don’t force your body into getting out of bed. Hear me?” Jisung began walking away, and I quickly followed, though I was struggling to keep up due to him taking big steps with his long legs. “Fine.” Was all I said, as we made our way to take our stuff from our separate places. We met back at the entrance, Jisung opening the door for me as I downshifted my head in thanks and went out.
“I watched you dance. It was incredible.” I suddenly let out, thinking about what else I could say about it. “It gave me a feeling that I can never pen down in words.” Jisung ruffled his hair and shook his head, adjusting his hair that looked messy. “Really? That’s nice to hear. But I know I can do better. I’m not the best.” When we stepped out of the library, I felt the cold breeze brushing my skin, too cold till I accidentally let out a shiver. “You seemed to be the best one there. I mean, the one that stood out to me the most.” Jisung raised both his brows, as if surprised such a comment came from someone. “Well I’m glad I was able to touch your heart.”
Moments of silence breezed through us like the cold air as we walked down the pathway. I didn’t know where Jisung’s dorm was, but it certainly wouldn’t be at my building. Was he walking actually wanting to walk me back? Either way, the silence wasn’t awkward. Jisung kept humming and nodding his head to the beat playing in his head, shoulders bobbing and making small movements. All I wanted to do was watch and smile. It made my stomach twist a knot, sending butterflies fluttering along while doing so. He would occasionally make eye contact and let out a cute giggle.
“Wait where even is your dorm?” I questioned. Jisung froze for a moment before quickly bringing his focus back on me to answer. “A few blocks down yours.” He simply said, bringing his index finger up to point in front. It was only now that I realised we were already at the entrance of my dorm building. “No wonder I’ve never seen you on campus before.” I muttered, nodding my head. Jisung adjusted the straps of his bag on his shoulders. “I’m not popular. Not like my friends. But at least my major mates know me.” I chuckle and blinked. “Of course they do. You’re talented.” I sighed and looked up to the sky, which was plainly a blank canvas with stars that could only be seen if you squint hard enough.
“I wish I had something to be proud of.” I whispered under my breath. Before Jisung could even say something back, I brought my eyes down from the sky and shook my head. His mouth was already opened and ready to speak, but he didn’t. “So I’ll see you tomorrow? Is there anything I should prepare myself for?” Jisung shrugged with a soft smile. “Nothing. We’ll just do the first thing that pops in my mind. I’m the type to be impromptu.” I hummed, saying goodnight to him one last time before going into the building, not looking back. Yet I felt his eyes glued to me, which only made me self conscious till I was completely out of sight.
One thing’s for sure, I already knew something that was different about us. I didn’t even meet him for long, but I could already tell Jisung was so laid back, relaxed, moving with his day like a breeze, no worries for the world whatsoever. He liked being impromptu, while I always had my days scheduled so meticulously. He seemed to be the complete opposite of me, yet he was still able to have order in his life. Curiosity spurred in me. I was having that urge to know him more, how he was able to live like that, how Jisung, was Jisung.
Funny enough, Jisung didn’t tell me about where to meet. Which was why I chose to seat the bench right outside my dorm building. I didn’t know how long I was waiting. I did follow his advice. I woke up quite late and stayed in bed watching Netflix shows. I took my time to get ready. And I actually went down a little over 2. I had my earphones plugged in, scrolling through Twitter since I had nothing else better to do on my phone. I didn’t have any games on it, or much of any form of entertainment. I never had time for those either.
Out of the blue, I heard something that resembled a buzz of some sort right beside my right ear. I instantly turned my head to it, leaning back and almost falling off the bench as I sent my bottom to the edge, shocked at seeing a drone flying right beside me. It wasn’t just an ordinary drone. It flew closer to me, and I squinted my eyes for closer inspection. There was a camera. It made me jump off the bench and taking steps back. And with each time, the drone flew closer to my face.
“Hey calm down!” I heard for a distance. My eyes adverted to the voice, seeing a small sized Jisung standing far from me. He tiptoed and waved his hand high, the other hand holding the controller of the drone. I could only laugh nervously as he ran up to me. “Good afternoon to you.” Jisung greeted cheerfully with a bright smile. I gulped and forced a casual smile, though I was still weirded out by the drone that was now circling in front of us. “You like me drone? My friend made it actually.” Jisung giggled.
I pursed my lips. “You chose to greet me with that?” I pointed my finger out with skepticism in my tone. “I’m sure you noticed the camera.” Jisung reached out for the drone, and held it in his hands. How can his hands hold something that big with so much ease? Or maybe the drone was small and his hand made it look big. “I was thinking we could record your day. If you were to actually have fun, you’ll have it on tape so you can watch back and remember the fun when you’re going through stressing times.” While Jisung was explaining, I couldn’t help but notice how brightly he was smiling. It was like the one he flashed at the library that night, but this time it was two folds of it, making the effect of butterflies in my stomach fluttering two fold as well.
“You really thought deep...” I whispered, leaning in to examine the drone while he moved it around for me to look at it from different angles. “It’s not so deep. I thought it only made sense for us to record a day like this. It’ll be fun, trust me.” I could only chuckle and stare down at my feet for a moment before looking back to meet his eyes and asking, “So, Peter Pan, where’s our first stop?” Jisung took out his phone and scrolled through it, I took a peek and realised he was on his notes. It had a list and it was labeled “TODO LIST FOR D-DAY” I giggled softly. “You’re making such a big deal out of today. I’m shocked.”
Jisung chuckled and ran a hand through his hair after placing the drone down on the floor. “Mm I like doing things like this. You know like, doing things out of the ordinary. This is certainly one of the time.” I furrowed my eyes at him while he had his on his phone. He probably felt my eyes searing into him, making him lift his eyes up and staring cluelessly. “So I’m out of the ordinary?” I questioned, tilting my head and feigned intimidation.
“What? No, no! I meant the fact that there’s someone who I need to plan a day out for. This kind of things don’t happen everyday.” Jisung leaned back and lifted up both his hands in defence, only making me laugh loudly and shaking my head. “Calm down. I was just teasing. I’m much for weird than I look.” Jisung raised both in eyebrows and jerked his head down to my phone. I blinked my eyes rapidly at his action. “I can already tell. Who has their timetable as their wallpaper?” Jisung faked a gag, which only made me frown as I glanced at my phone. “Nothing’s wrong with that!” I retorted, huffing and walking forward. I barely took a step before Jisung pulled me back.
“Peter Pan hasn’t even tell you the location, dummy.” He flicked my forehead with his finger, making me grimace. “Oh you dare to do that?!” I gaped my mouth open and scoffed in amusement, glancing sideways before retrieving my eyes back to Jisung. “I’m getting back at you!” I growled. “Till you do something that deserves the need to do it.” My voice grew softer with each word and my shoulders bobbed up while my expression turned into an embarrassed one. Jisung laughed out loud, he seemed to be enjoying himself, leaning back and holding his stomach from all the laughter he did for a full moment.
“Till I deserve it? Why are you so uptight?! Come. I’ll let you do it.” Jisung leaned forward, face meeting my level as he closed his eyes and a child-like smile played on his lips. I stared at him for a long moment. And when he didn’t feel any impact, he opened one eye in question. “Come on.” He urged, motioning his hand to his forehead. I chuckled at this, my hand being brought up like it had a mind of its own and flicked Jisung’s forehead with much force. He grimaced, but covered his pain with a sincere laugh the second after. “There aren’t any rules. Do what you want to me, okay? See, I can be your punching bag if you need me to.”
I gave Jisung a disinterested look. “Mm sure. Enough chatting just take me wherever already.” Jisung laughed at my impatience, sliding his phone into hus back pocket and getting himself ready to fly the drone. It flew up and almost went to my face. Luckily my quick reflexes allowed me to avoid it quickly, resulting in Jisung hissing and mumbling, “Sorry.” under his breath. He began to walk forward with me followed closely behind him as he played with the drone and letting it hover around as it recorded us from above.
We were walking quite a distance. I didn’t expect it to be this far. The sound the drone kept making was already imbedded into my memory. We were walking down a street I was completely unfamiliar with and the sun shining brightly above us wasn’t helping at all, only with occasional times when the clouds covered the sun for mere moments before it became blazing hot again. “Where are we even going?” I questioned, taking a look around my surroundings. Jisung finally let the drone come down from the air. He picked it up and motioned his hand with the drone to the building right in front of us. I furrowed my eyebrows as I looked up to the building.
“I thought about us enjoying the simple things in life. I didn’t want to take you to any fancy or high end places because well, I have no money for one. But it’s also because if you’re going to do this again, I’d want it to be something affordable. A place you can go to anywhere, anytime.” Jisung shrugged while he explained the reason of choosing this place which I still have yet to know its purpose since I saw no sign that gave me a single clue. “That’s deep.” I simply said. Jisung pursed his lips and nodded his head. “That was unintentionally deep.”
Jisung fiddled with the drone to turn it off and passed it to me for me to hold as he opened the door and gave me way. I downshifted my head and went inside. I looked around. It seemed to be a lobby. There was a small counter at the corner and in front was a deep hallway filled with doors left and right. What was this place? I felt Jisung’s presence behind me as he went to the counter. With a smile, the woman behind gave him a key. He went forward in front of me and tossed the key in the air for it to drop to the floor. I raised a brow at his action. I assumed he tried to expertly catch the keys again but failed to do so. I wanted to face but I kept my neutral expression. Jisung picked it up quickly and turned to flash a soft smile before proceeding to walk. I again followed behind.
While I walked down the hallway, I could hear different music coming from each door. Some rooms were silent while other were blasting music so loud yet muffled due to the door blocking out the music. There weren’t any windows on the door that I could peek into to see what was inside, which only made me more skeptical as I tried figuring out what this place was. Jisung abruptly stopped in front of one door, which was at the very end of the hallway. I almost bumped into him but stopped myself by placing a hand near his shoulder where I would’ve bump into.
Jisung slid the key into the keyhole and fiddled around for a moment for the key twisted and the door opened. Once again he made way for me to head in first. A gentleman, that was another thing about Jisung I took note of. I walked into a pit of darkness till I heard Jisung flip a switch and the lights turned on. I gaped my mouth open in awe and nodded my head slowly as I took unsure steps in. “Is this like...” I tried to form my sentence but I was mesmerised by the blank space of the wooden plank floor and the wall sized mirror that stretched from one end to the other entirely. “Your own dance studio?”
Jisung smiled softly and hummed, standing beside me while we both looked at ourselves in the mirror. “Wait. You aren’t actually telling me to...” I very slowly turned my head up to look at him, realising he already had his eyes on me before I even made eye contact. I brought my index finger up and swirled it around beside me to motion to the the dance studio. “Dance, right?” Jisung didn’t reply, only forming a sly smile for a split second before walking to the side while scrolling through his phone. Music began to play through the speakers from the top corners of the room. He placed his phone down and began moving his body to the beat while making his way back to me.
“That’s exactly what I’m doing.” Jisung smiled brightly and giggled, proceeding to close his eyes and continue grooving to the music being played. It was upbeat and relaxing, not like the ones played at clubs. It was chill and something anyone could move to. Except, I couldn’t. With arms folded and wrapped around my chest, I stared at him with a tilted head. Probably feeling my eyes on him, he fluttered his eyes open and looked at me with an innocent look. “Try dancing!” Jisung shouted, blinking his eyelids rapidly. I only narrowed my eyes in response. Jisung groaned and suddenly brought his hands out to hold my wrist, eventually holding my hands in his.
“You said we can do what I like. And I like dancing. It relieves my stress. I’m sure it’ll have the same effect on you if you actually try.” Jisung begged. He slowly brought my hands up, moving side to side, urging me to follow my lead. I was skeptical. This was never my thing. My body was as stiff as stone when I tried following Jisung. I didn’t know how he was simply so natural and fluid. He wasn’t trying hard at all, unlike me. “Hey.” Jisung suddenly whispered, leaning forward so his face was just mere inches away from mine. My breathing hitched in my throat. “You’re trying too hard. Loosen up. Feel the music.” Jisung’s advise was soothing, whispers that went in my ears and could stay in my mind for ages as he looked into my eyes and searched for the specks of uncertainty that he so desperately want to get rid of.
I closed my eyes and relaxed my shoulders. With Jisung’s large hands still with mine, Jisung slowly and naturally pulled me closer to him. I composed myself and tried to keep my cool as much as possible, putting my mind at peace and solely focusing on the music. Jisung hummed and tried to move me again. This time, I was slowly able to let my body loose, getting the beat of the song into my head and slowly bobbing my head to it. I couldn’t help but smile as I began to move however I want, being free. “You’re doing it!” Jisung shouted happily, letting go of my hands and allowing our bodies to dance.
I wasn’t looking at the mirror this whole time. But when I did, I grimaced in disgust, leaning back and sticking out my tongue. “Jeez I look so ugly dancing.” I sighed with a frown. Jisung laughed loudly and nodded. “Indeed. But that’s the whole point. No one’s here to judge you. I can be weird with you, if that’s what you want.” Jisung clasped his hands behind him and leaned forward again, flashing his cheeky smile. I scoffed. “Please, how can a great dancer like you dance weirdly? I mean look at you. Everything you do is flawless.” I huffed out, folding my arms.
Another song began to play. This time it was a slow one. Nothing sad or emotional, it felt like a song that was meant to bring yourself back down to earth. “I wasn’t even good last time. It took a lot of effort to get to where I am today.” Jisunv explained carefully, weary so that he wouldn’t sound like he was beinf boastful. Jisung suddenly looked up to the ceiling thoughtfully and after a moment he opened his mouth like a light bulb of thought above his head switched itself on.
Jisung immediately ran to the door, flicking the switch and turning the lights off. It was dark, but some light was still able to shine through from the cracks of the door, making me see Jisung’s figure, but not the details of his face only if I looked close enough. He went back to me and said, “There. With the lights closed, you can do whatever and I won’t see it clearly.” Jisung shrugged triumphantly. I chuckled and nodded my head in agreement.
After that, multiple songs continued to play. His playlist was probably on shuffle mode but they were all songs I could dance to. I could see Jisung and I moving in the mirror. Again, not obvious, but still seen. Out of nowhere, Jisung pulled me in by grabbed my wrist lightly. He pulled me hard till my chest bumped into his. “Sorry.” He whispered, chuckling awkwardly. Jisung was clumsy, yet cute i. his own way. Another feature of his I began to take note of. It took me awhile to realise how close we were. He could probably feel my breath on his skin at this moment.
I looked up from his chest, meeting his eyes. Suddenly, my surroundings blanked. The music drowned out into nothing and the darkness of the room got even darker. And at the same time, Jisung’s face began to be the only thing that was clear to me. I did notice how attractive he was. But this situation was only making it ten times harder for me to handle to emotions that suddenly spurred inside me. My heart was beating fast and my cheat began to clench tightly, giving me no air to breath in as I stood there breathless for a long moment. Jisung didn’t move either, his eyes wandering my face as if looking at every inch.
It was at this moment that got me to think that indeed, I was stress-free. I wasn’t thinking about the pile of books I had to read and analyse. I wasn’t thinking about what was due next week and what my schedule was. All I had my focus on was Jisung and I. The freedom and lightness I was feeling. It was something I never felt for so long. It’s as if I barely knew such a feeling existed. And all it took was doing something that I wasn’t even good at. Doing it with Jisung. It would be too early to say this, but he could very well be the first person that made me feel this way in my whole college life.
“That wasn’t so bad, right?” Jisung beamed at me as we made our way back to the counter to return the keys. I breathed out a light chuckle and sighed in satisfaction. “Mhm. It was actually... very fun.” I puckered my lips. Jisung went to the counter and leaned forward after placing the key down for the woman to take. He whispered something to her and she nodded her head. She went to the back and Jisung turned around to meet my eyes. “Got a little present for you.” The woman came back with the same key, or perhaps a replica of it. Jisung downshifted his head in thanks and handed me the key. I took it wearily.
I glanced down at it and trailed my eyes back to Jisung. “Why would you give me the key?” I questioned. Jisung took a step in and had his eyes on the key in my hand. He brought his hand up and closed the key in my palm. “I’m giving you access to my most private space ever. That’s because I want you to feel the same way I do whenever I’m in there. Carefree. Effortless. You can go in whenever you want, whenever you need. I don’t have to be there with you all the time. You don’t even have to dance. Just let the atmosphere of the studio calm you. Basically, do whatever. I just want you to be free.”
With each word his voice got heavier with meaning and sincerity imbued, and my heart grew lighter with each breath.
Days go by, and though I didn’t meet Jisung again, he’d occasionally call me late at night to check up on me. And every time I said I was doing work, he’d let out an exaggerated groan and force me to sleep. He sounded like those mothers that keep nagging at you. And with his talkative nature, Jisung and I could go rambling for hours on the phone till one of us sleeps. It’ll mostly be me since I could already drif off to dream land the moment my body hits the bed.
Today, I was feeling trapped in my dorm room. Something in me was feeling the urge for an escape as the walls caved in with every hour passing by. My brain was beginning to slow its gears and I wasn’t able to boost my motivation back up. I glanced to my phone where it showed the time blaring onto my face. “It’s only a ten minute walk.” With a shrug, I dumped everything I wanted to get done by tonight and headed out the door, not giving a single care to look neat and going out in my sweater and sweatpants.
I went into the building, it was dark with only the moonlight from outshine shining in through the glass entrance. I made my way to the dance studio, key in my hand that I already shoved into the pockets of my sweater on my way here due to the cold of the night. I unlocked the door and entered. I didn’t bother turning on the lights. Instead I switched on the small lamplight that Jisung told me he placed there in case I needed it. I silently thank Jisung in my mind as I began to unpack my things.
I took one look around the studio. It was spacious, the plank floors leaving the space wide open just for me. Though I came here to do work, my mind was slowly trailing off to Jisung. His figure slowly appeared, picturing him in my mind as I let his shadows dance in the dark. It was his dance that caught my eye and it was his personality that was making me crave to know him more. I was mesmerised, enchanted by every move he made. Every word he spoke, every clumsy gesture. It was all those things clumped into one that was sucking me in.
I startled out of my thoughts with a quick shake of my head and got to work. Quite a long time had passed by. Jisung was right. The atmosphere of the studio, silent, peaceful, nothing to disturb my serenity. For some reason, I didn’t think twice when I grabbed my phone to call Jisung at this timing. Before I could even press on his contact number, my eyes flickered to the time. 2:30AM. For one moment I thought he’d be asleep. But with remembering about his call service, I knew he’d still be up. My hopes filled me up with I called and placed the phone on speaker phone, placing my phone back down beside me while I continued to write.
Jisung picked up in a matter of seconds. “Hey! How are you?” I smiled softly. No matter the time and place, he never failed to sound cheerful and bursting with energy. It felt as if he was being like that just for me. “Nothing. Just work.” Should not have said that. “What?! It’s two in the damn morning? How are you even- no more studying. Makes me puke every time I hear that.” Jisung feigned a gag and I laughed loudly in response to his disgusted reaction. “I’m almost done, alright? I’m actually at the music room. It’s quite nice being here.” Jisung hummed and I leaned back, placing my hands behind me. “Oh you’re there? Want me to join you?” Jisung’s voice suddenly grew excited. The sudden burst of energy shocked me. How was he able to be so energetic in the dead morning?
“You don’t have to! I was just about to go anyways.” I squinted my eyes and formed a quizzical look on my face. Why did I even say that? I wasn’t even about to leave. “I don’t have classes tomorrow so I can stay up. I know you don’t have any either.” I raised an eyebrow, my eyes going to the screen as I saw Jisung’s name still flashing at me. “What are you even suggesting?” I questioned with a confused tone. Jisung smacked his lips. “Mm to have a night out with you? We didn’t go out for so long.” Jisung cried out. I gaped my mouth open ever so slightly and tilted my head a few degrees at his suggestion.
I leaned forward to my phone, my voice lowering itself to a whisper. “You... actually want that?” I blinked my eyes rapidly, waiting for his answer. Jisung breathed in once and said, “I just said that, didn’t I?” I frowned. “But I want you to rest and-”
“Already out the door!” Jisung ended the call. I sighed. But a smile cracked on my lips at the thought of him coming here.
“What is all this mess?” Jisung complained in disgust. Face scrunched up and nose crinkled at the sight of my books and papers while he helped me to slide it back into my tote bag. He grabbed a stack and placed it on his thigh. Flipping through. I could only see cluelessness in his eyes. “Jeez. This is so not to my liking. Or understanding.” Jisung shrugged and shoved it into the bag, making it the last stack.
Jisung stood up and carried it on his shoulder, instantly crying out as he leaned over to the side where he hung the bag, the weight of it pulling him down. “How do you carry these all day?!” Jisung shouted with utmost shock. I simply shrugged and made my way for the door. “You’d be surprised at how much my shoulder hurts every week.” I said nonchalantly due to the fact it was truly something I’ve gotten used to. I glanced over my shoulder, seeing Jisung bringing himself back up and trying to get used to the weight while walking to me. I opened the door and with a kind smile, moved my body aside to give way for him to exit, which he gladly thanked for with a whisper.
“Anyways, there’s a twenty four hour ice cream shop that just opened nearby. Are you in for a treat?” Jisung questioned, looking down at me. I turned my gaze from the floor and to him, glancing sideways for a quick thought before nodding. “Sure.” I simply replied. I could only follow Jisung, once again not knowing where he wanted to take me. I was familiar with the neighbourhood around campus of course. But I’ve been staying at the campus for so long that I never got the chance to find out what was new about it. Such as a new ice cream shop I never knew existed till now.
The walk there was comfortable silence. I took this time to look at Jisung’s outfit. He was wearing his signature black adidas jacket, track pants and a black cap. It felt like it was something unique only to him. A person I could identify instantly with what he wears. I like Jisung in it. It was a lazy look but he somehow managed to pull it off, naturally good looking. My focus trailed down to what I was wearing, and I couldn’t help but think about just how bad I looked at this time of the night.
Jisung once again abruptly stopped. I was able to dodge him this time and stand beside him. He looked inside the shop while I had my eyes on the sign that said they were open. “They actually do open twenty four seven.” I muttered, instantly realising that Jisung had already entered the shop when I heard the sound of the bells above the door ringing, the door swinging open. I quickly caught up to the door, making it just in time before it closed fully and entered.
I stood beside Jisung, the two of us scanning through the menu above the counter. “Is this your first time here?” I asked. Jisung bobbed his shoulders. “It is. You?” I shook my head. “I didn’t have time to be going out and trying out food that the neighbourhood has to offer. I stick to the food on campus most of the time.” Jisung scoffed softly and turned to me. “Which is practically convenience store food. How boring of you.” My jaw dropped and I breathed out an unbelievable chuckle, punching his shoulder gently. “And how rude of you to say that.” I feigned exasperation and looked up to the menu again after the two of us laughed softly.
I was the first to walk up to the counter, Jisung quickly following behind as I felt his presence being awfully close to my back. “Can I get three scoops of chocolate chip cookie?” The woman at the cashier nodded and turned her attention from me to Jisung. “You?” She questioned. I turned my head to him as well. Jisung squinted his eyes while he looked up to the menu again. He stuttered for a moment before responding. “I’ll just get two scoops of strawberry swirl.” The woman cracked a small smile, almost invisible as she keyed in our order. She told the price and looked at the two of us, waiting for the cash. When Jisung didn’t respond, I quickly took out my wallet. I glanced at hi for a brief moment, noticing that he was looking at me and didn’t hear the cashier. But before I could even slide out my dollar note, Jisung slammed my hand down lightly and took out his money in one swift motion.
“Thanks.” I softly whispered as the two of us walked to the side t wait for our ice cream. I folded my arms and placed my weight on one leg. Jisung sighed loudly, assumingly to break the silence between us. “Three scoops? That’s a lot.” Jisung mentioned. I frowned and waved a lazy hand at him. “Calm down I’ll pay for the three scoops. I’m just craving for it.” I breathed out, now feeling slightly bad that I spent a lot of Jisung’s money since the price was quite expensive. Jisung looked down on me, quirking up a questioning brow. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just saying it’s a lot. You don’t need to pay me.” Jisung quickly retorted with assurance imbued into his tone.
My mouth formed an ‘O’ at the realisation and slowly nodded my head. “We can’t be eating here, right? So where are we going to go?” Jisung ruffled his hair, adjusting the strands that laid naturally and nicely down his forehead. I was still able to see his eyes despite having it covered by the layer of hair. “Our spot.” I blinked my eyes rapidly. “Our spot?” I echoed back, completely clueless.
Jisung flashed me a disappointed expression along with a sigh. “The studio. That, or we can just eat at the park nearby. Oh and don’t expect me to protect you if we get kidnapped. I won’t be strong enough to protect you.” I laughed at the joke, Jisung chuckling along with me. “You dance with such energy and you’re telling me you can’t beat a kidnapper?” I scoffed loudly in amusement. “You’re quite something.” I added on. Jisung looked down, somewhat in a shy manner and smiled before lifting his head back up. “I really am.”
-Just how much was I missing out on
We walked out, ice cream in hand. Jisung seemed to be texting someone with his free hand while I simply looked down on my ice cream and be the first to dig in. The bite felt like a trip down memory lane. How was it that I didn’t enjoy simple things like ice cream during college? Don’t get me wrong I do still eat ice cream, but I never experienced one that tasted authentic, way better than the ones sold in convenience stores. “You seem to be enjoying it.” Jisung suddenly let out, making me head shot up to him and then to my ice cream, which I already noticed that I took more than just one bite already.
Jisung slid his phone into his track pants and got to eating. His jaw dropped and his mouth hung open so wide that it could reach the floor. With the ice cream nestled on the surface of his tongue, he gasped loudly and looked to me instantly. “This is so good!” Jisung squealed with much happiness and excitement, taking another bite instantly and moaning in satisfaction. The two fo us ate in silence as we walked, allowing ourselves to sink into the ice cream’s captivating flavours like a bath.
We entered the park. It was dimly lit, with only the lamps that lined the pathways and lighting the place with an orange hue. Jisung took quick steps forward to sit on the nearest bench. I sat down beside him, a small smile forming on my lips. All that we could see were the lights and trees that had its leaves and branches swaying in the gentle breeze. Jisung had his full attention on his ice cream, ow seeming to be taking small bites to preserve the ice cream and take a longer time to finish it.
“One question. How long have you not come to this park? Or have you never?” Jisung’s question got my mind blank. I thought about it for quite some time, till Jisung had to hum to see if he even got my attention. “The only time I’ve been here was two years ago. For helping out at an event as a job.” Jisung moved his lips to one side. “Question two. Was majoring in law what you wanted to do?” I already knew this conversation was about to get deep. And at that moment, if I’m being really honest, I’m glad Jisung’s the one I’m having this conversation with.
“Yeah. At first I thought lawyers looked cool in those Korean dramas. My only goal at that time was to do any major that I seemed to be interested in and one that could get me rich. Those were my only two requirements that satisfied me. I was always hardworking but I never knew my work could get this overloaded. I wasn’t ready for it.” I took in a deep breath to compose myself, realising how real I was getting about myself. “I only started having breakdowns at the end of last year. Never bothered to take a break due to constant anxiety on how much I could miss out on. All because I want that simple goal of doing well in college for a job that’ll give me good pay. I didn’t even think about what I’d do with the money. I never bothered to expand my goal beyond that. And I think that makes me very low, and shallow minded.”
I slowly tited my head up, wanting the cool air to cool my face. The sky was nothing but plain ink black darkness with only the small moon shining it’s moonlight on us. I closed my eyes, not really caring if Jisung responded to anything I just said. Letting it out for him to hear was all I wanted, all that I need. I kept my breathing steady and collected, the simple calmness of the quiet surrounding putting my mind at ease. “But have you ever thought that you don’t need to keep up with whatever’s around you?” Jisung whispered. I fluttered my eyelids open and brought my eyes down to meet his. We locked eyes, and Jisung reached out in front of me to grab my now empty cup, making my breath hitched in my throat. He always made me stop breathing whenever he got close. What was he, death?
“What do you mean?” Jisung puckered his lips, seeming to be deep in thought before replying. “I get that you want to do well. But you don’t always have to go at the speed this world’s at. It’s not always in the hustle.” Jisung whispered carefully. His eyes never met mine. And with each word and every one that was going to come after, could drive it’s words deep into my heart and soul, like he was seeing right through me. “Look around you. This place, the studio. You would’ve never discovered them if you were so focused. Slow down to see the prettier things in life. Isn’t that what they always say?” HIs words were definitely meant to bring an impact. And it did. My heart sank, not in a bad way. But simply because the realisation and reality was weighting my heart down.
“Technically, you introduced me to the studio and park.” Jisung brought his hand out, as if putting his words on it and placing it in front of me. “Exactly. You wouldn’t even get to know me if you never took time to look at your surroundings and finding my note.” I licked my bottom lip that was extremely dry. My eyes absentmindedly went down to his lips, that still looked unbelievably smooth despite the dryness of the air. “I told you, didn’t I? I can be here for you. Whatever you need. So don’t always think college is everything. I mean, look at me.” I chuckled.
But Jisung was right. I did took time to look at him as a person. He was doing something that wasn’t just interest, but what he loved and had passion for. He’s able to do well and not have to stress over things too much and too often. Jisung was able to carry himself how he wants to and be satisfied with life when I would be satisfied with mine long years down the road. He was the physical representation of ukiyo. The floating world that didn’t bother about the worries of life, and living it his own way, no matter what could appen to him. He was a ukiyo standalone.
“Slow down to see the prettier things the life.”
Jisung might just be that prettier thing.
Jisung and I got close, real quick. It wasn’t a surprise. I already knew I’d want to meet him more often, wanting him to be my escape from the whirlpool of life. He was always a breath of fresh air, a sight for sore eyes. He never failed to make the time I spent with him meaningful to the last second. I quickly grew to realise that I needed to meet him on a regular basis. I needed to take my mind off work, and he was the only one who could do it for me.
I was just finishing lecture, carrying the heavy pounds of books in my hand with much struggle. I was trying to juggle my book on my forearm while the other tried to find for my phone in my pocket to text Jisung, saying I wanted him to come over to accompany me. With a quiet grunt I tried to type with one hand, which to me was an extreme struggle. Just when I decided to stop walking to get myself gathered together, I looked up from my phone, suddenly seeing a group of guys walking just past me.
Murmurs and whispers from different angles could be heard from far away, I raised my brow, watching their backs. One that caught my eye was the adidas jacket. I knew instantly from his figure and bright orange natural looking hair that it was Jisung. I instantly ran up to him, shoving my phone into my bag to just I could have a free hand to tap on his shoulder. “Jisung!” I screamed happily, after giving him a tap I placed a firm grip on his shoulder to stop him. The other guys surrounding him turned around, noticing how Jisung abruptly stopped.
“Who’s she?” One of them asked, his voice sounding arrogant and cocky from the get-go. Jisung gulped and looked left and right, glancing over his shoulder. He suddenly seemed anxious. Jisung blinked his eyes rapidly, sucking in his lips while he rubbed a nervous hand at the back of his neck. “I-I don’t know.” Jisung quickly replied. He stared at me for a moment, eyes cold and would probably feel like ice if I were to maintain it any longer. Jisung shoved away the hand I had on his shoulder roughly, only making me scoff loudly. “What the heck? Jisung you good?” I was about to reach my hand to punch him lightly on the shoulder, thinking that the way he’s acting was just a joke, but with him having quick reflexes, he got a firm grip on my wrist in a matter of seconds.
“Look. I don’t know you. Why are you treating me like you’re my friend?” Jisung’s words were meant to slice. And it worked. I was in disbelief, the large wave crashing over me and wiping me out and the words rolled hard on his tongue. Jisung slammed my wrist down, my whole arm swinging backward slightly from the strong impact before it fell down my side. I looked to my hand and trailed my gaze back to Jisung. I stiffened, trying not to shiver under his gaze. What was going on with him? Another friend of his placed a hand on his shoulder and jerked his head forward. Jisung pushed me off with his cold gaze one more time and turned around sharply to walk away. I gaped, eyes widened as the other looked to each with unsure faces and disappeared along with Jisung.
I stumbled a few steps back from Jisung’s impact. The impact in his words, actions. Why was he like that? He said he didn’t know me. I took a moment to head over to a nearby bench to place my books down and have a break, but it was mostly to think over about why Jisung suddenly acted different. He never seemed like that before. He looked... cold and unapproachable. That look in his eyes when he made eye contact with me, it felt as if he never knew me at all. What was with that sudden shield?
Later that day, I tried to text Jisung. Give him a call, sending multiple texts. He wasn’t responding to any of it. He used to always be free 24/7. Why was he suddenly not online, especially after what had just happened. I wanted to know why. This was the first time he ever acted like that towards me. And it was too odd. We would never meet too often. But without him texting me at least once a day, you could say I was falling apart again when he began to not get into contact with me for a whole week after the incident.
I tried to find him again. Seeing him on campus whenever, I tried to approach him. This time I walked up to him quickly and had a firm grip on his wrist. “Jisung? What’s wrong with you the other day? You acted as if you didn’t even know me.” I said with a nervous chuckle, wanting to seem like it didn’t bother but failed tremendously. Jisung looked at me blankly, expressionless. Like nothing went through his mind with that I said. Or even looking at me. Jisung bit his lower lip, glancing sideways as if he didn’t want to give a single care about my presence.
He slid my grip off his wrist. “I shouldn’t be talking to you.” Jisung said in a monotonous manner. He glanced to his left and right quickly, eyes meeting mine for a brief moment. And in that small second of eye contact, I felt something. His eyes looked sad, like he was feeling sorry. But that look disappeared as quickly as it appeared, and Jisung was out of sight once again.
I was in bed, eyes up to the plain white ceiling that gave me the free will to think about anything. Anything and everything, but it all lead to Jisung. I simply couldn’t shake it off. The way Jisung looked at me. I felt the impact of his push so vividly. I kept replaying the scene in my mind. It was just so not Jisung. It was so off from what he’s like. It seemed like it wasn’t Jisung at all. I turned to my side, phone right beside my face. I picked it up, instantly going to my contacts and clicking on Jisung’s name.
“What’s going on with you...” I said in a soft whisper, my mind trailing off yet again as I stared at Jisung’s name on my screen, so bright and so big. Yet it suddenly felt distant. Jisung, felt distant. A long while had past, and I still contemplated on whether to give him a call. I gave up doing so a few days back. Why did I still have hope? He didn’t seem to want anything to do with me. And I knew it wasn’t because he’s busy. He didn’t want to contact me. He’s ignoring me.
I closed my eyes, taking in a deep breath, slow and steady to calm my mind. I was beginning to jump to conclusions. And I really would never want to have that perception of Jisung. Never once thought of him that way, and never will. I would never. I groaned out loud, turning off my phone and placing it back down beside me harshly with the screen faced down. I curled myself up into a ball. It had only been a week. And I was already missing him. His voice, his clumsiness, his cuteness. The sudden change of his attitude, to the whole ignoring and growing distant thing. It was too much. Again I was falling, cracking at places where it got pieced together when I was with Jisung.
Unable to sit still, I got up and walked to my study table, slamming my body down and beginning to do work. I furiously began writing, doing whatever I can to suppress myself. I was growing mad, and if I had to let out my anger, I’d be doing it in the productive way. However, I was only able to keep that adrenaline up for a few minutes till I got to frustrated that I threw my pen on the wall in front of my and balled fists into my hair, screaming till my voice disappeared. I shut up eyes close, allowing the tears that had been welling up this whole time to finally fall, sending myself into a breakdown.
I cried and shouted with all my heart. I couldn’t beat it. I couldn’t do anything without Jisung. I didn’t know what to feel. Anger, rational, disappointment. Perhaps it was all those balled into one emotion I didn’t know the name of. I shook my head vigorously, running a hand through my hair and slamming both hands down on the table, wanting to swallow down my flood of emotions. I can’t be going through this. I had work to do. Jisung’s a waste of my time, and my energy. My feelings for him will not stop me from moving forward. I knew I shouldn’t have met him. He led me to this, to suffering even more on top of my large pile of other stresses I had to handle. He was once my ukiyo, but how he’s far from being one.
“I can’t fucking keep doing this!” Jisung screamed, pacing back and forth in his dorm. Luckily Renjun wasn’t here to hear his rant. He’d been stressed out about it for weeks. It’s almost been a few months. He couldn’t keep this up. He was this close to showing his anger if his friends were to ever hung out with him again. Jisung had one arm wrapped around his torso while the other rested and had his thumb grazing over his bottom lip. He was missing her. He wanted to see her. But he couldn’t. Not when his friends are around 24/7.
At the party later that night, Jisung had no mood for any of it. Not the drinking, not the games. He was at this stupid party just because his friends dragged him. Although he never said no to the offer. Jisung simply went with it to satisfy his friends. He was sick of the people around him reeking of alcohol, people bumping into him every which way, the loud music that could possibly bloa his eardrums. Just how many of these parties had he been to already? And he still couldn’t get used to this.
Jisung was standing by the drinks area, watching his friends on the couch and getting wasted. They’re finding their own way home somehow. Jisung knew they were capable, so there wasn’t any reason why he had to take care of them. He seemed to be so fixated on one spot that he didn’t even realise Jeno was standing beside him after he let out a, “You seem to be having fun.” Jisung came zinging back to reality. “Yeah.”
“I know you aren’t.” Jeno gulped down the red cup and placed it down on the table behind them. He leaned back casually, eyeing Jisung which intimidated Jisung just a little bit. “What’s been going on with you?” Jeno leaned his head forward and closer to Jisung, making sure his words could be heard over the loud music. “Nothing.” Jeno scoffed. “It can’t be nothing.”
Jisung turned his head to face Jeno, flashing him a look that read, “I really don’t care.” Jeno smacked his lips and folded his arms. “I’m the closest one to you. Even though they all treat you like you’re our own baby, I’m the one that knows you best. So spill. There’s no hiding from me.” Jisung groaned out loudly and grabbed Jeno’s wrist, pulling him to a room closed and isolated from this mess Jisung simply hated.
Jisung went in and slammed himself onto the bed, sitting on the edge while Jeno raised both his eyebrows in shock at the little man’a temper, closing the door behind him slowly as the music finally got drowned out. “So?” Jeno began, leaning against the door and placing one leg over the other. Jisung threaded his fingers through his hair, keeping his hand at the back of his head as he tilted upwards to find a way to say his feelings, as if the words were out there for him on the ceiling.
“I have this girl I like. We’ve been hanging out for a long while. But we stopped because one day I decided to be a prick and push her off when she saw me with the rest of us.” Jeno opened his mouth and clapped his hand once. “It’s that girl isn’t it?!” Jeno pointed at Jisung with surprise. Jisung wasn’t exactly sure if Jeno and Jisung were thinking of the same girl, but either way Jisung simply nodded.
“I don’t know why I did it in the first place. I guess I was embarrassed of you guys knowing her and you’ll keep bugging me about it all the time if you knew.” Jisung groaned out, the frustration expertly imbued into his tone though it took no effort to do so. Jeno narrowed his eyes on Jisung, a look that made him know that a long lecture was about to come for him. And he couldn’t escape.
As Jeno pushed his back off the door and walked forward, he said, “So what? You didn’t want us knowing you have a girl you like because you think we’ll invade your privacy? If you want to know, most of us guessed it already. You kept going out at such late hours almost all the time. Did you think Renjun wouldn’t have noticed?” Jeno tilted his head, making sure it was extremely obvious. “That’s why we were shocked when you did that to her.” Jeno added on. Jeno squinted his eyes and blinked them rapidly. “Then why don’t you just explain it to her?”
Jisung frowned, head slowly tilting down to cover his face. “Because I felt bad for doing it and thought she’d be mad at me and wouldn’t want to talk to me again.” Jisung sighed loudly for three days. “I didn’t-” Jisung inhaled deeply. “I didn’t want to face her because I didn’t want to feel the pain of having her get mad at me.” Jeno chuckled, the kind that was in disbelief. “Jisung! You don’t even know if she felt that way!” Jeno slammed a palm to his forehead. “Yes she’d be mad but you should be making the first move to apologise to her! She’s probably crying in bed wondering why you suddenly cut off all ties with her, you dummy!”
While Jeno was giving him an earful, Jisung fiddled with this thumbs, scarping at the hang nails and growing deep in thought. Jeno was right. Why didn’t he do anything to solve it? He simply backed off because he was too afraid to face her after what happened. He was caring for his own feelings more than hers. And now she’s definitely in a way worsr position than he was. “Fuck I’m dumb.” Jeno hummed in agreement, only making Jisung shoot a glare at him while letting out a ‘tsk’.
“Might be too late but talk to her. Right now she needs an explanation. No matter how long ago it was.” Jeno had his voice firm and advisory.
Jisung made his way to her dorm. He had a sinking, anxious feeling in his chest while he walked down the hallway and inched closer to her door.
I was at my table, still studying the life out of me. I knew I’d be walking out of this dorm brain drained and walking like a living corpse when I go for my lecture tomorrow. Just when I wanted to rest my head down, there was a knock on the door. I thought I misheard, but after a long moment the knocking came again. I quickly walked up to the door, swinging it open. Everything paused. My motion, my eyes. It was glued to the person in front of me, which was Jisung.
“Can I come-” “I have work to do.”
I tried to close the door, but Jisung stopped it with his foot. “Please. I owe you an explanation.” Jisung said, voice filled with softness and sincerity. I couldn’t bear to resist. I knew I never could if he came. I sucked in my lips, sighed quietly and opening the door. I walked in, sitting at my study table and turning my chair around. I watched Jisung close the door behind hIm, making his way to the bed, each step seemed to be weary and careful, watching out for himself with every move to make sure he didn’t do anything wrong.
Jisung and I locked eyes for a long time, silence circulating the air. I cocked my brow up in curiosity as to why he wasn’t saying anything. Jisung quickly noticed my change of expression and shook his head as if bringing himself back from a moment of deep thinking. “I’m sorry. For that day. I know I was rude. First I did that, then I completely ignored you.” Jisung bit his lower lip, now avoiding eye contact like he was too embarrassed to meet my eyes. “I did it because I was scared of what my friends thought of me having someone.” My quizzical expression became more prominent.
I sat there, not sure of what to think. Like I said, I never wanted to think badly of Jisung. But after hearing that, it seemed that my underlined feeling of anger became to surface itself after being forced to suppress itself for far too long. “So you did that to me then you ignored me. On top of that completely removing me out of your life like I was invisible. Then you didn’t bother to try and fix this sooner. All this because of what you’re friends would think of me? Of us?” I pointed to myself, my voice growing scarily louder with each sentence.
I smacked my lips and nodded. I didn’t need his verbal reply to know the answers to that. And it disappointed me. “I never thought I’d say this. But that was shallow. Very shallow of you.” I ran a hand through my hair. “Did you know how much I was going through when I couldn’t contact you? All those times I texted and called, you didn’t reply to any of them. And why? For your pride? While I was here balling my eyes out every night unable to do my work.”
I allowed a moment of silence to pass, though I could’ve continued without having to catch my breath. “You used to be my escape. Someone I came to when I needed to destress, be free. But now... you’re just the person that’s stopping me from my goal. Getting work done, it could be stressing yes. But if I’m unable to do work just because of my feeling for someone as low as you...” I shut my eyes closed, wanting to hold back my tears. My opened my eyes and forced them to blare at Jisung with firmness. “I don’t see why you should be in my life anymore.”
I stood up, taking slowly strides to the door. I held the doorknob, turning it and opening the door. I brought my free hand out, motioning to Jisung. “Don’t come back. I can’t bear to see you anymore without having these confusing feelings. It’s something I shouldn’t be spending my time worrying about.” I said sternly. I watched Jisung. He seemed far from stable. He seemed to be cracking at the seams, he was at the edge of tears. He didn’t bother to hide them, the tears seeming to be clouding his vision as it welled up in his eyes. He had his eyes glued to the floor the whole time. A long moment went by till he finally stood up and walked to the door.
Before Jisung left, he stood right in front of me. His eyes met mine, shivering with guilt and instant despair. It broke my heart to see him like this. But in situations like these, I had to choose. Either lose Jisung, or lose myself. “I’m sorry.” He muttered, almost inaudible. He blinked his eyes once and the tears streamed down his cheeks. I reached my hand out, slowly and shakil to place them on his shoulder. He looked down on it, simply letting it slide off when he went. He walked away, and I bit my bottom lip. That was the last moment I saw him.
Closing the door, I let my back lean against the door and slide down till I reached the floor. I thought I wouldn’t feel a single sense of sadness or regret. But at that moment, when I couldn’t even handle seeing Jisung’s back disappear as he walked down the hallway, the shell I had carefully built around my heart shattered, and no number of words of reassurance repeated to myself will piece it back together. I shook my head. If I kept my expectations low, I would stop feeling the throbbing. If I cut off all my emotions, I wouldn’t be so weak. And that was what I was determined to do.
Jisung felt every single word struck deep and low, like a bell toll that shook inside him. As the her hand fell off his shoulder, so,too, did the warmth. He began to shiver. Only cold and pain remained, sharp enough to numb everything else. All his adrenaline, gone, and with it, his sense of feeling. All his life, gone. The ground caved in, and he hit bottom.
Jisung walked away with a heavy heart. Everything he did for her. From the moment she unintentionally made that call to the last time they met, Jisung had it flashed in his mind like a movie tape. She was al the more right to be like this to him. He knew all too wel of the consequences. He had to bear this pain. It was the only right thing to do. He didn’t know how he’ll get over it. But even if he eventually does. he’ll never forget her. Not for a single second. Even if she would be shoved to the back of his mind, he’d dug up for it again. She meant so much to him. And how Jisung will be seeing her no longer.
“Jaehyun stop I swear!” I giggled loudly as Jaehyun continued to tickle my sides. He carried me away from the cashier with his arms around my waist. I laughed out loudly and beg him constantly to put me down. He finally did when I gave him a hard smack in the arm and made him wince.
“You’re laugh is cute.” Jaehyun said with a light chuckle. I rolled my eyes and folded my arms. “Yeah well you don’t have to keep tickling me for you to hear it.” I feigned exasperation, leaning forward against the counter to place my chin on the palm of my hand. “Really? Good to know but I’d still prefer to tickle you.” I shot Jaehyun a death glare and all he did was threw back a playful wink to which I responded with a ‘tsk’.
Jaehyun got close to ruffle my hair. And when he had his hand on my head, the bell above the door opened, signalling that someone entered. I swatted off Jaehyun’s hand, him laughing lowly at my defensive act as I pat down my apron. “Welcome to-” My voice stopped in its tracks. I was frozen. The moment I looked up, I instantly knew the person in front of me.
“Park Jisung.” I whispered, voice growing soft. I gulped, wanting to swallow away any feeling that might surface before I even continued. Our eyes locked. And Jisung... he was suddenly bringing in the sense of comfort through his gaze. I didn’t know how he did it. We’ve never met for almost two years. Yet here he was, suddenly showing up in front of my face, with not a single thing of him changed and giving me the exact same feeling I had back then.
“I’d like to talk. Over some black coffee?” Jisung offered, slowly pointing up to the menu, his eyes never leaving mine. I blinked my eyes rapidly and took this time to glance at Jaehyun, who seemed to he confused yet didn’t want to question or interrupt whatever was happening in front of me. “Why? You have no reason to.” I said simply with a nonchalant shrug. That was clearly a fake move.
“Just a chat. We used to be friends, didn’t we?” Jisung questioned back, pushing his shoulders back and allowing his chest to puff up ever so slightly with confidence. I didn’t know where he was going at, why he was here in the first place. Either way, I didn’t give him a reply, simply turning around to start making the coffee with Jaehyun giving me space.
I went to the table where Jisung was seated, placing the two cups of black coffee on the table. I took a seat at the opposite side. Tight silence circulated us. It made me want to choke due to how awkward it was. I was running my finger around the rim of the cup slowly. “Have you been well?” Jisung asked. “I’m doing great. Got into university and I’m working here part time.” I breathed out. “You?” I asked back. I was genuinely curious.
As much as I was able to get over Jisung, his unknown well being got me to he on edge whenever I thought of him. That could be said with my buried feelings for him as well. “Got admitted into an art school. I’m apparently capable enough to start my own dance crew.” Jisung breathed out a light chuckle and took a sip of coffee. “Look. What I’m here for is...”
Jisung closed his eyes for a moment before opening them back and have it darted to meet mine. “What I’m here for is that I want to start over.” I gave him an expressionless look, mainly because I didn’t know what emotion to show. It was all spiralled into something unrecognisable. A mix of lots of emotions. I had no reply for Jisung, which only gave him a signal to keep talking.
“Every day I’ve carried the burden of missing you. And each day it grew heavier and heavier. I knew it was the weight of my actions, their consequences. And I miss you too much. You meant so much to me, and you still do. I was trying to not break our friendship but I only made it worse. Trust me I regretted it everyday after that.” Jisung’s eyes softened and I grew weak under his gaze. It was gentle and light, it made me fall in a matter of seconds if I didn’t care to put in energy to have a guard up.
“And on top of that, it wasn’t just our friendship I missed. I missed it all. You. I didn’t get to say this, but I’ve liked you. And I always have. It was a feeling beyond the mutual one. It was something more and I came here afraid of how you’d think. I came anyway. Because I’d do anything to get to start over with you again.” I swallowed. It took me time to allow his words to sink in. I wasn’t able to form a reply right off the bat.
I did have feelings for Jisung as well. Though it wasn’t prominent at the start, it began to grew the more time we spent together, which was why it made the situation two years ago far more painful than it really was. Apparently Jisung felt that way as well.
“If I allow it, will you be my ukiyo again?” I whispered, looking down to my cup that I have yet to drink a singe drop of coffee from. Jisung leaned in closer and, his face now inches away from mine. My breath hitched in my throat. He still had this affect on me. The ability to have me frozen and stiff with his gaze and actions. It was something only he knew how to do, the only one who could do this to me.
“Your ukiyo, your Peter Pan. Please...” Jisung leaned forward to rest his chin on top of my head, tilting his head down slowly to place a soft, loving kiss on the crown of my head. One that made me feel as if he was touching something so precious and fragile, the most important thing in the world. “Take me back.” I closed my eyes and took in one deep breath.
“Take me back to the studio after my shift.”
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little bumps in the road (pt. 12)
Part 12. PART TWELVE?!?! WHAT
Previously on LBitR
Alex stays with them for quite some time that night, working out the logistics for the next step of their newly-formed game plan. Lena goes over the reading of Kara’s blood she obtained at LuthorCorp a few times, and the two of them discuss different strategies to clean Kara’s bloodstream of any lingering Kryptonite into the wee hours of the morning.
It’s refreshing, in a small but not altogether insignificant way, to discuss science with Alex. It’s good to talk shop, as it were, with someone who knows their stuff, and Alex undoubtedly knows her stuff--her expertise in xenobiology provides truly valuable insight.
The problem, however, is that whenever Lena says anything, Alex‘s eyes turn immediately to suspicion. It’s not outward hostility, which is certainly an improvement upon their encounter at LuthorCorp, but still, it’s uncomfortable. Not that Lena doesn’t deserve it, but still. Uncomfortable.
It doesn’t help that a staggering amount of what Lena knows about Kryptonian biology comes from Lex’s journals. When that little tidbit of information comes to light, Kara goes completely silent, and Alex, crossing her arms over her chest, purses her lips into a line so thin they almost disappear entirely.
Lena can only look down and tug at her fingers as she wilts with shame.
In they end, after much discussion, Alex asks for a detailed list of equipment Lena might need, and Lena silently writes it out on the cheap little motel-provided notepad. Alex takes one look at it, and sighs.
It would be such a simple thing to do if they could just go to the DEO. But they’re not about to risk it--this little Metropolis detour was already much more dangerous than any of them are willing to admit.
Before she leaves, Alex begrudgingly takes Lena aside and hands her a little rolled-up piece of paper--Lena almost thinks it’s a cigarette at first. She takes it with a questioning look, unrolling to see ten digits of a phone number.
“Pay-phones only,” Alex says gruffly, putting on her motorcycle jacket. “Two rings, then ‘hello, yes’ means talk, ‘yes, hello,’ means it’s a no-go. Anything else, it’s not me on the phone. Memorize that, then throw it away.”
Lena nods, and mouths a silent thank-you. The number is memorized within seconds.
By the time Kara and Alex say their goodbyes--Lena stands awkwardly to the side, feeling like an intruder--the sun is only a few hours away from rising, but Kara insists they try to get some sleep anyway. Lena tosses and turns for the scant hours they have, seeing flashes of green every time she shuts her eyes.
They depart early, bleary-eyed, and groggy, crawl into the Jeep and get ready to travel south. It’s the tail-end of summer, and the air is still muggy and warm, and the Jeep roars down little unnamed roads. The new plan is the old plan--drive with no distinguishable route; except now they do have a route--one that Lena assumes Alex fabricated by throwing darts at a map.
The days bleed into one another until Lena begins to lose track of time altogether. No matter where they go, they never stay more than a night; they call Alex on pay-phones at select checkpoints and receiving their next point in the route, and Lena crosses them out on the map as they go. Kara does most of the driving, while Lena sketches out diagrams and writes down formulas on loose paper until she gets too car-sick to continue.
It feels like another two weeks in, when they finally hear from Alex again--Lena is the one calling this time, while Kara gasses up the car. They’re somewhere in Louisiana and the heat inside the phone-booth is absolutely stifling, but Lena doesn’t dare leave the door open. A quarter clinks, and she dials the number Alex gave her in Metropolis by rote.
“Hello, yes,” Alex mutters on the other end of the line
“We made it,” Lena says. Alex then rattles off a series of numbers-- the coordinates for their next checkpoint--and then promptly hangs up. Lena stares at the numbers for a moment, thinking it strange--it doesn’t seem too far from where they are now.
And it turns out to be not even ten miles away, which immediately makes the hairs at the back of Lena’s neck stand at attention. The place looks to be an abandoned barn in the middle of nowhere--there are no buildings in the vicinity for miles. Lena can tell Kara is also suspicious; the car rolls to a stop a few yards away, and her brows crinkle in confusion.
“Are you sure this is the right place?”
Lena nods, almost wishing she wasn’t. She almost suggests they turn back, but then something catches her eye--it looks like a graffiti tag, or something like it, right on the dilapidated door. She squints, trying to make out its shape, a five-sized diamond with... could it be?
“Lena?” Kara asks again, but Lena is already stepping out, briskly approaching until she can clearly see the Supergirl sigil painted in red on the worn wood. She turns to where Kara is still idling the car and beckons.
“This is it.”
Together, they slide the heavy doors open. Lena expects a lab, or at least some desk space with some equipment, but the sight that greets them once the sunlight illuminates the barn is... unexpected.
It’s an RV. Not overly large--something either of them could easily drive and park without too much trouble, but it has Lena scratching her head. Until they go inside--the keys were taped to the driver’s side window.
It is a lab. A mobile one.
“Wow,” Kara laughs as she takes in the beeping machinery and carefully organized supplies. “This is some Breaking Bad stuff!”
That gets a chuckle out of Lena, but she’s too busy to actually be amused--the RV is absolutely jam-packed with everything she requested and more. There’s even a bed--a cot, really, that comes down from where it hooks onto the wall of the vehicle-- attached to machinery that hopefully, after some tweaking, would be able to separate the traces of Kryptonite from Kara’s blood much in the same way as platelets were collected at a blood drive.
Hopefully.
For the first time in weeks, Lena allows herself to hope--she has direction now, a plan, as short-term as it may be, and her hands are positively itching to get to work. All those mental schematics, those formulas and theories she’s been scribbling until now--she can finally put her brains to good use. She can finally do something.
She almost feels like a kid at a candy store as she goes through everything Alex had managed to acquire for her use; there’s a giddiness that comes from unwrapping a box of brand-new microscope slides, a childish cheerfulness from untangling wires and tubing, and just overall excitement when she turns on the simple spectrometer on a modified counter and hears it whir to life, lights blinking at her almost as happily.
It’s just what she needs to unscramble her mind--to occupy it, fully occupy it with something useful. Lena’s so taken with what she finds, she almost forgets that Kara’s still there, looking at her with inexplicable fondness in her eyes.
“So,” Kara clears her throat, caught staring. “We’re in business, then?”
Lena smiles, and for the first time in forever, it finally feels like she means it.
Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11
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#nara's word vomit#supergirl#supercorp#lena luthor#kara danvers#LBitR#ficwriting#femslash#honestly not super happy with this one#but had to get it out of the way I think#so we can have more erm#shenanigans#yes let's call them shenanigans#i figured we could have a little bit of happy lena#just a little
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WEAK HERO UNIVERSITY (3/?) [READER X WEAK HERO]
Summary: I know you assholes are crying now that the first season of Weak Hero is over. But you’ve got other things to focus on, like where the fuck you’re going to live after getting kicked out of your old dorm. Luckily, you’ve found one last open room on the other side of Weak Hero University. What could possibly go wrong?
Genre: Romance, Humor, Slice of Life
Date: 7/12/2021
You’re dully unaware of how many people are allowed into a cramped dorm room before it becomes a fire hazard, but you are almost completely sure that the rule has now been broken.
Gray pushes through the mass of bodies wedging themselves between your bed and the desk, a damp, cold rag in his hands.
“Let me see.”
You grit your teeth and stare up at the ceiling, holding back the urge to toss yourself out the window. Of course this would happen, you don’t even know why you’re surprised! It was just your luck to completely obliterate your toe in front of cute guys you had just met.
You reach down towards your sock and then freeze, eyeing them wearily.
“Wait… You guys aren’t like, feet people… Right?”
Eugene furrowed his eyebrows and looked to everyone else. “What do you mean? We all have feet.”
Gerard made a face, or well—as much as a face as you can see, and you fluster, immediately regretting asking the question.
“Shit. Never mind. That was a stupid question, just pretend I didn’t say anything.” What? No one can blame you, too many years on deviantart would make anyone paranoid!
You hook your fingers onto the elastic of the sock and pull it off your right foot.
The moment your sock comes off, both Ben and Alex rattle your eardrums with a shriek. Alex covers his eyes and Ben dramatically falls onto his knees beside the bed.
“The whole thing is purple, Ben, you dumbass!” Alex cried, peeking out from between his fingers. “She’s going to need to amputate her toes!”
Ben clasped his hands together in front of you, bowing his head to the floor. “I’m so sorry! I’m terrible! I’ll take full responsibility! I’ll even give you my toes!”
“Uhm, you guys—” Eugene lifts a shaky finger but is interrupted by the earth-shattering slap Alex lands on the back of Ben’s head, eyes teary with emotion, “Dammit Ben, no one would want your big ugly goblin toes!”
Absolutely flabbergasted at their reactions, you flinch back, eyes wide as Ben clasped both his large hands over yours, bottom lip quivering.
“Please forgive me (Y/N)! You’re too pretty to be missing toes!”
What the fuck does that even mean?!
Mind working in overdrive and face burning hot, you swallow and try to stutter out an explanation, nearly going cross-eyed at the insane amount of pressure suddenly thrust upon you.
Did Alex just give Ben brain damage? Did Ben just call you pretty? Were those two things related? What the hell was going on!?
Gray pulls a sobbing Ben off of you, lips pressed into a thin line.
“You two are freaking her out. You need to calm down.”
“But—!” Ben starts, voice trembling, “Her toes! I crushed her—!”
Gerard sighs, turning his face away from the scene, clearly too tall and cool and in need of a haircut to be suffering from secondhand embarrassment. “You guys… That’s just nail polish.”
Ben turns to Eugene for confirmation and Eugene rubs the back of head sheepishly, an awkward smile plastered on his face. “I tried to tell you guys.”
Alex approaches Grey, peeking over his shoulder and almost sounding a bit disappointed. “Wait, so… We don’t need to call an ambulance?”
Grey shakes his head, no. His pale hair catches the light and you suddenly notice how incredibly pretty he is. “It won’t be necessary. But we still might need to speak to the Hall Assistant…”
A slender hand reaches up and delicately turns your foot towards him, revealing a nasty reddish-purple bruise forming just under the ball of your feet.
The group behind Gray cringes back simultaneously.
Alex lets out a low whistle, clicking his tongue. “That one’s gonna be hard to walk on, (Y/N).”
Eugene sighs, eyebrows knitting together. “Yeah, last time I got something that bad, I needed to use a wheelchair for a week.”
“Dude, wasn’t the wheelchair because Teddy accidentally threw a coke bottle at your crotch?” Alex asks.
Eugene turns to him sharply, whispering something reminiscent of “girls” and “not now” while gesturing to you avidly.
“We’re going to need to get ice.” Grey says, ignoring the arguing in the back.
He lowers the damp rag onto your foot. You wince and flex all the muscles in your leg, trying not to contort your feet in pain. Lavender eyes meet yours and you begin to wonder if you had misjudged him for side eyeing your ziplock baggie of waterlogged notes. “How are you feeling?”
Well, to be honest you were feeling pretty damn good right now. You’ve never had so many attractive guys paying attention to you at once, even if it was because of a fucked-up foot. You, one. University? Zero!
Of course, you weren’t about to say this. Instead, you gulp, wiggling your toes just to make sure nothing was broken.
You turn to Grey with doeful eyes. “Well, everything is still connected. I think I’ll be able to walk, maybe with some… Extra support?”
He lifts the damp rag off your foot and contemplates a bit, placing a finger under his chin.
“Why don’t you try standing up?”
He moves to give you some space and you swing your legs off the bed, moving quite feebly to put on a show and hopefully getting the world’s hottest crutch out of it.
Unfortunately, you were so preoccupied with putting on an act that you forgot which foot was actually injured.
You place all your weight onto one foot before you realize you’ve gone and fucked yourself and feel the shock of pain immediately.
Your knee gives out, sending you flailing like a circus monkey on a tricycle, except you weren’t a circus monkey on a tricycle because at least those were cute, you were just a clumsy buffoon with one foot, too lazy to pick up her own belongings and finally paying the price for it.
“Shit!”
You’re entirely prepared to just give up life and become a fully concussed vegetable at this point, but instead of the sweet embrace of death, you get the sweet embrace of a himbo instead. An arm catches you by the waist before you can hit the floor and pulls you back up to his chest, the scent of a woody cologne punching you in the face.
When you look up, you’re met with Ben’s gaze. His reddish brown hair and chocolate eyes are a lot more overwhelming up close, and it doesn’t help that you suddenly recall him calling you pretty while he snotted over your bed.
You stiffen like a board.
“Uhm. Hey.” You say, definitely not awkwardly at all.
He flusters, tips of his ears turning red. He swallows thickly and his adams apple bobs up and down.
“Hey.”
He averts his eyes and looks anywhere but at you, doing what you think is an attempt at whistling nonchalantly.
It was in no way nonchalant.
In fact, you weren’t sure if he even knew how to whistle, he was kind of just blowing spit out of puckered lips.
With both of you distracted, neither of you realize his grip was becoming slack with his inattentiveness.
“…Ben.” Grey warns, albeit softly, but alas, he’s too late and too damn quiet.
He drops you like it’s hot and everyone else watches in horror as your head connects like deadweight with the metal frame of the bed, a loud and resounding “CLING!” bouncing off the walls and reverberating in the room like a haunting testament to assured braincell loss.
Your vision swims and darkness begins to bleed into your periphery. The last thing you hear is Gerard’s voice echoing in your brain,
“Hey man, is that my shirt you’re using as a rag?”
#weak hero university#weak hero x reader#webtoon weak hero#weakhero#weak hero#reader insert#fanfiction
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