#i also love seeing dark throw mark under the bus | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

byunbaekby · 3 years

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yo, Jisung, check this out!”

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

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

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

“Where’d that come from?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chenle groans on the other line. “Lame.”

“Next time, promise,” says Jisung.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Who is this superstar player, you ask?

His name is Jisung Park.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have no idea what that means.”

“It’s—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Other people have done more distance.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He gulps. “... No idea.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah, he wants it. He really wants it.

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

One kick, just nail this one kick.

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

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

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

He won.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He never should have done this.

Why was he born again?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait, really?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ouch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally, today you’re in town.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, is that so surprising?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, yes! Just—just go.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He swears he’s never been so tired.

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

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

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

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

“Hi…”

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

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

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

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

“What, what is it?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know.”

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

“Yeah, is something wrong?” Mark asks.

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

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

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

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

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

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ve been avoiding him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A snort leaves him. Classic (Name).

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s never really been in a hospital before.

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

He’s so lucky to have you.

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

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

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

Jisung blinks. “Souls?” He gulps.

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

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

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

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

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

Jisung enjoys these moments the most.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you scared?”

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

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

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

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

“I might.”

A beat of silence.

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

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

Your voice is dry as you speak.

“You’d move on.”

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

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

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

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

Your lips meet, and everything is golden.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what about it?”

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

“Chenle,” says Renjun carefully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A new email.

He immediately opens it, eyes glazing over the text.

Dear Jisung Park,

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

What a load of shit.

The past few weeks have been horrid.

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

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

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

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

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

“The same one you talked about last week?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re not leaving,” he cuts in.

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

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

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

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

Then the line dies.

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

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

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

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

His phone rings at three in the morning.

He knows what it means.

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

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

Grief is an interesting thing, someone once told him.

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

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

The first few days had been hell.

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

Eight months before it.

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

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

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

The first few days went like that. Empty.

Then he was angry.

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

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

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

And above all, he was sad.

What would he do without you?

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

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

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

The air in the room is still for a moment.

“Jisung.”

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

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

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

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

“And we’re here.” Mark’s voice.

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

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

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

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

Tears sting at his eyes for the nth time.

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

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

“You look like shit.”

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

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

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

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

“You got this.”

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

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

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

Him? Why him of all people?

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

With a gulp, he nods.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait… what?

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

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

What?

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

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

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

“But—But, you rejected me… why now?”

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

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

“She… wrote a letter. For me?”

“That she did,” responds Mr. Moon.

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

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

“So? Will you accept our offer?”

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

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

To Whom It May Concern,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sincerely,

(Name) (Last Name)

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

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

“Need help?”

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

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

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

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

“I don’t feel any different,” he admits. “I thought eighteen would mean something.”

“You’ll get there, trust me. And anyways, I always told you not to grow up too fast.”

For a moment there’s a silence as his sister swoops the tie in and out, weaving it to form the perfect knot. Feeling something scratch at the back of his throat, Jisung speaks. “... I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for, silly? I was the one who never taught you how to knot a necktie,” she chuckles.

“Not for that,” he says. “For last week. I… probably scared you.”

Suddenly, his sister is wearing that demure smile of hers again. The one that is small and polite, but always seems to carry more weight in it than he can see. “No. It’s okay, I knew you’d be better.”

Naeun finally finishes the knot, tightening it the slightest around Jisung’s neck. “There you go.” He offers her a small thanks as he turns to look in the mirror, and she begins to leave. A sigh leaves him; there’s no avoiding it now, he’s ready to go.

“You know, Jisung,” she suddenly speaks up from the doorway. “I’m glad that you met her. Even if it ended up like this… you’re different. In a good way, and I think she had a lot to do with it. Even if you don’t feel different… you are.”

In the months of your relationship, Jisung had come to learn your insecurities. You were loud and proud, but with that confidence came an unwavering insecurity that you were unliked by those you spilled your tongue to. At the funeral, Jisung sees that that’s not at all true.

People give speeches for you, place flowers on your grave. The school newspaper had even written an article to commemorate your presence on their team, and the president of the club reads it aloud. A number of hospital staff make their appearance.

Even Jisung’s friends show up, despite the clear memory of them calling you crazy early on. Maybe they were right, maybe you were crazy. But he probably was too.

It doesn’t rain a single drop, though it had been pouring for three days before. Instead, the sun peeks through the overcast clouds, gifting sunshine.

Jisung smiles.

He probably looks like an idiot, carrying the soccer ball around the entire funeral but he knows what it means to him, and what it means to you. When he places it on your grave, the grass still fresh, his eyes catch the carefully written words on a singular white spot.

I love you.

He knows that he means it.

At eighteen, there a lot of things that Jisung still doesn’t know. But even so, there are a handful of truths that he can hold onto forever. One, he’s still an incredible soccer player and girls are still very scary. But like soccer, maybe that just takes time and practice.

Two, growing up isn’t about a number. It’s not about partying or drinking, nor is it about rushing into relationships that have little meaning. For years Jisung had wanted to grow up, to face the world with no fears and be able to cruise through. But he knows now that growing up is about being strong in the face of sadness, pain, grief. About waking up every morning even if you feel like you have no reason to.

Love is the same.

Love isn’t about making out on the bleachers after practice or trying to copy the coy clichés seen in romance movies. It’s about the sacrifices, like four hour bus rides. It’s about communication and connection, like a recommendation letter traced in gold. Because of you, he’s moving forward. He can go to college, and the day will never come when he stops being grateful toward you and everything you’ve done. That’s love, and he will spend the rest of his life loving you. Maybe the love will change but it will always be love.

It hurts that you’re gone, it really does. Jisung doesn’t think it’ll ever stop hurting.

But the last thing he knows is that things will be okay.

Life moves on, and he will too.

#neowritingsnet #dreamwritersnet #nct-writers #neohbh #neothestars #park jisung angst #jisung angst #jisung fluff #park jisung fluff #park jisung fanfic #jisung fanfic #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct angst #nct fluff #nct fanfic #nct dream fanfic

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chyanxrene · 3 years

Text

Car wash

♡ Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Y/N

♡ Summary: Draco buys a new car and has other plans on how to enjoy it with his girlfriend Y/N

♡ Warning(s): Pure smut, 18+ only, degradation, car sex, minors DNI

Everyone knew that Draco Malfoy was a show off. He enjoyed— no, he relished in flaunting his wealth. From the jewels he owned, the houses, the land and most importantly, his cars.

It was an addiction to him, whenever a new car was made, he had to get it. He loved cars of course, but the true thrill he had from purchasing them, was that fact that he could show them off.

Whether he drove to the supermarket, down the motor way. The faces muggles made when he drifted past them fuelled his ego even further.

So when he found himself parked outside Y/N's apartment, he became excited to show her his latest car.

They were due to have their weekly date, but Draco wasn't on time, which was unlike him. But when he was informed three hours ago that his car had been delivered to the showroom. He had to go, surely Y/N would understand, he assumed.

He honked his car horn a few times, receiving frowns from random onlookers. His response? Throwing up his middle finger at them and rolling his eyes.

Draco waited for his girlfriend to step out of her building, he noted that there was a bit of dust on his dashboard so quickly wiped it off using his jumper sleeve.

"For fucks sake Draco— must you always cause a scene," the sweet, melodic voice came from beside him.

He had his front window wound down, as it were a cool, summers evening— there was no need for air conditioning on these types of days.

Draco turned his gaze towards his lover, taking in her features. He loved how she looked all the time, but the summer made her glow differently.

"Darling," he smiled, opening the car door and stepping out.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, inhaling the fresh scent of her hair. She was an angel to him, so pure, not an ounce of darkness ran through her. Her white summer dress confirmed his thoughts on her.

"You're late," she huffed, leaning her head back at a tilt to glare into his grey eyes.

He kissed her forehead and sent her an apologetic expression, "I know, and I'm sorry— I ran over time," he explained.

Draco unwrapped his hands around her waist, and leaned back onto his car, "well?" He smirked.

Y/N scanned the all black vehicle in front of her, it was larger than what he would usually go for. But nevertheless, still screamed Draco Malfoy.

Y/N hummed, crossing her arms, "it's definitely you alright,"

This caused Draco to frown, even if he bought it for himself, he still liked having her approval, "what's that supposed to mean,"

"It's a little big for you— not what I was expecting," Y/N admitted.

"Shut up, anyway— get in we're going on a date," Draco rolled his eyes, slightly disheartened from Y/N's opinion on his new car.

He'd spent quiet a lot of pounds on it, not that he cared but, the more expensive the item, the better— right?

"Let me drive it?" Y/N chirped, raising an eyebrow up at him.

"Very funny," he dismissed, turning to get back into the car.

"I'm being serious, can I drive it?" She asked again, still standing in the same spot she was in. Draco knew there was not winning this battle, but he needed to stand his ground.

"No,"

"Please?" This time her voice came out more whiny, almost child-like.

"No,"

"Please Draco, don't be so boring," she stepped towards him, raising her head so she could plead with not only her words but her eyes too.

"No Y/N, you almost crashed my last car," he shook his head, reaching for the car door handle.

"That bus nearly went into me, it wasn't my fault— and it was a year ago Draco," she mumbled, the truth was, she hadn't looked in the side view mirror so didn't see the double decker bus pull out beside her.

"Y/N," Draco said sternly.

But when he looked down, the doe eyes she had put on, and the fake pout she had forced her plump lips into. He knew the battle had been won, by her— again.

"Fine," he muttered moving out of the way, "I swear, if you even think about fucking around— you'll sit in the backseat every time after this,"

"We will see," she smirked, pushing him out of the way.

She hopped into the drivers seat, inhaling the fresh leather. Draco's cologne had already filled the car, marking it with his signature scent.

Y/N ran her hands down the steering wheel, not a single scratch on it or thread out of place. She adjusted her seat to sit closer to the steering wheel.

Draco had a tall frame, but also enjoyed driving with his seat tilted at an angle. So adjustments were necessary.

The door slammed from beside her, "for someone who spent quite a lot on this car— you don't seem to have any care for it already," she laughed.

Draco's arms were crossed, as he stared outside the car, ignoring Y/N's comment.

"Such a child," she muttered, fixing the rear view mirror.

"Shut the fuck up," he spat, turning his body so he faced the passenger window directly.

"Put your seatbelt on," Y/N requested, waiting for him to do so, before she could drive off.

Draco cursed under his breath and flung the material over his shoulder, "how could I forget— I don't want to die this early,"

She checked all mirrors before pulling off the curb, the car was smooth, she couldn't feel the uneven roads of London through the car.

Even though Draco was sulking, he had to watch her, he had to make sure she didn't mess around. So he did, and he did intensely.

Despite him hating being in the passenger seat, he was always in awe the way Y/N drove, with such delicate movements— and always relaxed.

She was tiny compared to this car, which made Draco want to watch her further. The way her fingertips clasped around the steering wheel, the way her eyes flicked to each mirror every now and then.

He could watch her all day— but he'd never tell her that.

"So where to?" She spoke, pulling him out of his trance.

Draco cleared his throat, turning on the radio, "I— just keep driving," he mumbled.

"Really? Fine," she responded, she turned towards an empty road, no speed cameras, no on coming vehicles, just a straight road— to go as fast as she pleased.

"Don't you dare," Draco's eyes widened, but it was too late.

She had already pressed her foot down on the accelerator, both her hands were on the wheel as she sped down the road. Draco was forced to hold onto the handle above him.

The wind pushed her hair out of her face, flowing behind her. Her smile bright as ever, as she felt the adrenaline rush through her veins.

Draco had just fallen in love with her all over again.

The road came to an end, which forced Y/N to slow down. She let out a puff of air, and a breathy laugh, "that was fun," she smiled.

Draco nodded, shifting in his seat, he directed her down a few roads. But his mind was distracted, he didn't expect to be turned on by this— but he was.

She drove effortlessly, gliding the large car through small gaps with ease.

He placed his hand on her bare knee, feeling the sudden urge to touch her. But Y/N didn't think much of it, she looked at it as a sign of comfort. So she continued driving, listening to Draco's simple directions.

Draco's hand slid further, he silently thanked her for her choice of attire. He sprawled his finger tips around her upper thigh, flicking the dress out of the way beforehand.

He gave it a squeeze, and noticed how Y/N had suddenly stilled beneath his touch. He held in his laugh, and every now and then continued to flex his grip on her thigh.

Y/N let out a gasp, the rings that decorated his fingers digging into her skin deliciously. The cold metal, contrasting against her thighs that were warm from the summers air.

"Relax my love," Draco whispered, his finger tips pushed her thighs open, giving him ability to run them along the sensitive area.

"Draco," Y/N frowned, trying to close her thighs, but his hands were too strong, and she knew she needed to concentrate on driving otherwise they'd both be in a problem.

She heard his seatbelt click, and shuffling from beside her. She quickly glanced over to his side, to see he had turned fully to face her, his hand still wedged between her thighs.

He kissed her jaw, and then moved down to her naked neck. He used his left hand to keep her legs open, and the right to draw circles close to her pussy.

"You look so beautiful driving this big car," he whispered against her cheek.

His mouth continued to kiss along her neck and down to her collarbone, leaving purple marks on the way.

"You're so small and fragile— my innocent angel, you'll be a good girl for me won't you?" He asked, moving his head back an inch to wait for her answer.

She nodded quickly, "yes," she breathed.

"Perfect," he smirked, he ran the tip of his tongue along her jawline, and nipped at the skin.

He removed his right hand, Y/N let out a noise which he laughed at. She quickly looked at him and saw him dip his middle finger into his mouth. He went all the way up to his knuckle before pulling it out.

His hand found the area again, and wasted no time pushing her underwear to the side. The moistened finger now brushed her clit lightly, the shockwaves shooting through Y/N's spine.

"Draco," Y/N tried to force out a stern voice but it ended up coming out weak.

He ignored her, and resumed circling her clit with his finger. He watched her reactions, the way her fingers tensed, the blush pink shade that now covered her cheeks, he loved it.

"Concentrate on the road darling, can you do that for me," he breathed. His dick was hard, painful and straining against his boxers.

But Draco liked to tease, and would rather do this, then receive his own gratification.

Y/N nodded again, catching her bottom lip between her teeth to stop the light moans that threatened to escape.

His middle finger was replaced by his thumb, the pad of it now stroked it smoothly. The middle one ran down her slit, coating itself in all her arousal. He teased her entrance, before dipping his finger in halfway.

"One foot out of place and I promise, I won't let you cum, do you understand?"

"Yes,"

His lips pressed onto her cheek before he moved his finger. Y/N unknowingly accelerated faster as she felt his finger slip into her, but Draco noticed. He also noticed how she clenched around his slender finger, a sign of eagerness— just as he liked.

He moved his finger slow, missing her g-spot every time on purpose. He knew and so did she, that he could make her cum within minutes, but Draco wasn't in any rush today.

"Fuck," Draco rasped, each light thrust he gave her, forced more arousal to surround his finger.

"You like that don't you Y/N, you like getting off, knowing anyone can see us— fucking whore,"

"Please— Draco," her moan came out strained, her knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel so tightly.

He brushed her g-spot, curling his finger inside her to give her what she wanted, his thumb never stopped pleasuring her clit.

Draco pushed in his ring finger, the angle was awkward but Draco could make anything work.

He used a scissoring motion, stretching her— almost preparing her for what he had in store.

The wet sounds could be heard over the light music in the background, the ongoing traffic was muffled. Both Draco and Y/N could only concentrate on what he was doing to her.

"So fucking wet, you're making a mess on my seats darling," he laughed, usually Y/N would feel embarrassed about the noises and how wet she became so easily— but she was currently too turned on for any sort of embarrassment.

Draco thrusted his fingers quicker, the wetness of her cunt almost forcing him out of it, resulting in him having to push them in deeper.

Y/N was nearing her orgasm, the sensation too much to concentrate on the road. Her vision became dotted, everything was too much.

Draco's silent praises mixed with the relentless pleasure he gave her, drove her to the edge.

Her mouth opened, the palms of her hand becoming clammy. Her mouth was dry and her throat had closed, she licked her lips quickly, trying to bring back a sense of normality.

But it didn't work, she could hear Draco's heavy breaths, and in the corner of her eye, she could see him palming himself through his jeans.

The motion all came at once, she felt herself about to cum, but noticed the amber light switch to red first. She slammed her foot on the breaks, Draco's hand reached out to prevent himself from falling.

All movements stopped, the coil in her stomach slowly unwinding as Draco removed his fingers from her cunt. She sent him a scowl, however her eyes pleaded with him.

He tutted, raising his fingers towards her mouth. His middle one, smothered her arousal across her lips. The ring finger slid into her mouth, which she welcomed automatically.

Draco glanced at the current road, seeing if he had enough time to kiss her. Which he did, he took his fingers from her mouth and tangled them into her hair.

He dragged her head closer to him, and darted the tip of his pink tongue out, running it along the curves of her mouth.

Tasting her, he hummed, her arousal mixed with the peach chapstick she had on made her taste even better than she already did.

She stuck her tongue out, and opened her mouth. Draco raised an eyebrow and smirked, gathering the saliva in his mouth before spitting directly onto her tongue.

Y/N swallowed quickly, her eyes still begging him to finish her off. A silent beg, but ever so loud to Draco, he nodded, looking at the area they were in again.

It had become noticeably darker, he guided her towards an empty side road, filled with dirt and gravel.

The tension between the pair was thick, Y/N's breathing was laboured, each hump she went over making her sensitive cunt even more wet.

"Pull over here," Draco ordered, the windows had closed. He switched the car off, making his way first, into the back seat.

Y/N watched as he climbed into the middle back seat, his large frame almost covering the centre of the back window. He patted his lap, gesturing for her to join him.

She let out a shaky breath, reaching over to him as he helped her join him. Draco leaned forward, forcing both of the front seats forward— well as far as they could go.

Y/N adjusted herself in his lap, his erection pressing directly in alignment with her soaked thong.

Draco's hand grabbed her throat, pulling her mouth into his. His kiss was wet, and sloppy, tongues dancing with the other. She couldn't help but roll her hips against his.

His grip only tightened, the rings digging into the side of her neck, pinching and scraping against the skin below it. Draco pulled back, his thumb pulling down Y/N's bottom lip and letting it go with a pop.

"Draco," she whined, forcing herself further onto him, he held her hips in place.

"You almost crashed my new car angel," he taunted, brushing the loose strands of her hair out of her face.

"I— I'm sorry," she whispered, trying to lean forward and kiss him, but he pulled away and raised his eyebrow.

"You're sorry?"

"Yes, I— I lost control," she admitted, her chest rising and falling heavily. Draco's hands snaked around to her ass and squeezed harshly.

"Are you sure," he asked, a playful tone now laced in his deep voice.

Y/N nodded, "yes, I'll make it up to you,"

"Good— then make me cum," he ordered.

Her mouth fell open, but her eyes filled with determination. She cupped his cheeks, pulling him into a kiss, she controlled it, as he let her.

But it wouldn't take long before he took over again.

She reached between the two, fumbling with his belt and button. Once she had them both undone, she tugged on his jeans, signalling him that she wanted to push them down.

Her mouth was still attached to his, Draco raised his hips, and pulled his jeans and boxers down.

His cock slapped against his stomach, the tip leaking with pre cum. Y/N wiped her thumb across it, the pad of her thumb now covered in his own arousal.

She tasted him, swirling her tongue around her thumb— the slightly salty taste made her want more.

Draco sucked in a breath as he watched her with heavy eyes, now darker and filled with lust.

Draco grabbed her hand, cupping it in his before spitting on the palm of it. Y/N used his saliva to lubricate his dick, running her hand up and down until it became easier to fist.

"Stop playing with me, Y/N," Draco growled. His hands clenched beside him. He was forcing himself not to take control, she had to make it up to him herself.

Y/N raised herself on her knees, pushing her underwear aside and lining his tip with her entrance.

But she decided to tease them both, running his tip up and down her slit. She mixed her own arousal with his, the small sensation made the ache more apparent.

Draco's hand slapped harshly against her ass, "don't make me tell you again,"

"Or what?" She knew she shouldn't of replied that, but she couldn't help but get under his skin.

But her bold move, infuriated Draco, he grabbed her hip, and forced her harshly onto his cock. The two lovers both letting out strangled groans.

Draco didn't give her any time to adjust, before he started thrusting into her deeply— mercilessly, he didn't care at all.

Y/N held onto his shoulders, the pain shooting through her as she was given little to no time to adjust to his size. But she knew it would subside quickly.

The stretch was unmatched, although it didn't feel as bad due to Draco already preparing her.

Draco's heavy grunts filled the car, perspiration covering his forehead as he pounded into her, the sound of their skin slapping together was music to his ears.

She struggled to breathe, Draco had now put his hand back around her neck, his thumb pressing against her pulse point. She was in a state of bliss, and Draco loved watched her get to that stage.

Her head was flung back, as she clawed at his shoulders, he could feel her fingernails scratching through the cotton jumper.

"Touch yourself," he choked.

Y/N did as he asked, reaching her clit with her index finger and rubbing it quickly.

"Oh— fuck," Draco moaned, his fingertips digging into her ass, which would leave bruises the following morning.

"Your cunt, is perfect," his thrusts grew sloppier, showing he was close.

"I'm— I— shit," her orgasm flooded through without any warning. She knew Draco would be mad, but she couldn't help it. The pleasure was too much— too intense for her to hold it.

Her pussy squeezed around him, which led to him reaching his release. His cum flowed inside of her, just as he liked, he thrusted a few more times before stilling completely.

The windows had fogged up, by their heavy breathing and heated bodies, any onlookers couldn't see through. But that didn't matter as the windows had been tinted to the darkest shade of black anyway.

Draco's eyes were squeezed shut, he gulped heavily and fluttered them open, "you like my new car then," he chuckled deeply.

The vibrations of his laugh, made her tense inside, "yes," she smiled.

"Well it's filthy now," Draco noted, looking at the their cum mixing between them and leaking onto the base his dick.

Y/N hummed, "car wash," she laughed.

"Car wash," Draco agreed, pulling her into a kiss.

#Draco Malfoy #dracomalfoy #draco smut #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy x reader #draco x y/n #harry potter smut #dracomalfoysmut #Smut #18+

160 notes · View notes

kosmosguk · 4 years

Text

Bloody Artistry (M) ~🥀

pairing: celeb! kim taehyung x journalist! reader; minor pairings: jungkook x reader, coworker jimin x reader (platonic)

Word Count: 8K

Summary: when the scrutiny of fame becomes too much, perfect kim taehyung finds his peace within a lavish bathroom located two blocks away from the nearest club, a corpse in the bed with him. the fans have never questioned his behavior, not when his company is much too good at cleaning up his mess to not have done it before, but when a reporter with too many questions threatens to break the peace he’s established, he finds himself in a tango with the devil that he can’t bring himself to want to break.

[Warnings: MURDER, death, literally Taehyung being a sick bastard 25/8 (but only in fiction), company corruption, violence, yandere themes, mentions of noncon smut (intoxication, mentions of being drugged, fingering), blackmail, obsession, stalking. EVERYTHING that happens in this fic is FICTION; plz don’t go busting nuts for serial killers]

A/N: Thank you to yoongissugarmommy for requesting this! Part 1 of a short series starring Taehyung. Was going to do smth similar to Lineage with him, but this has been staying in my drafts for too long (like i wrote most of this before I even wrote Lineage, which is why my writing for part of this is a bit different from my current one), and I feel like going a bit modern now to take a break from Lineage (taking a bit to write pt. 4 just because it’s the end of the main story). Thank you for 2.9k followers! We’re only less than 50 away from 3K which is so wild to think about; kisses and hugs to everyone who’s supported my work!

“Today, in the studio, we have our nation’s golden boy, the first love of all of our viewers: Kim Taehyung. Everyone, please clap your hands for him!’’

The MC turned to grin at the audience as the audience cheered loudly; her glossy black hair swept down and framed her face delicately in perfect shiny strands. The lipstick that coated her unnaturally wide smile was a deep shade of red, stark against her pale white skin. Dressed in her primly pressed suit, she looked lovely, like a blooming rose, but as she turned to face the guest star, his presence seemed to easily outshine her own.

“Thank you for having me. It’s an honor to have an interview here and have an opportunity to see all of my lovely fans,’’ Taehyung’s deep voice rang out as he smiled in his heart-swooning way, flashing pure-white teeth handsomely in a carefully maintained and practiced way that made all the fans, both in the studio and watching from beyond a screen, unable to resist letting out shrieks and screams.

“Now, Taehyung-ssi, with a record-breaking album that topped the charts as soon as it came out and a modelling gig that sells out magazines faster than before, how does it feel to have really made it? It must stress you out. Any tips on how to relax?’’

Taehyung leaned back slightly in his seat, his smile flashing coy for a brief second before settling into a rehearsed contemplative expression. He shrugged his shoulders, letting them drop out, as he made a soft hmm noise.

“How I relax? It’s not that big of a deal, really, but that’s an interesting question to ask, noona,’’ Taehyung widened his eyes slightly, looking ever so much like the golden boy persona he had stickered upon his reputation,’’ When I’m really, really stressed, I like to play with Tannie, my dog, and eats lots of yummy food that my mom sends to me when I get stressed. Also, my manager Namjoon is a good person to talk to when I’m really stressed; he always knows what to do and say.’’ Taehyung tapped the tip of his nose lightly, scrunching his face in an expression that made fans coo in adoration. “I also like to think of my fans and read all the letters they’ve sent me. I saved all of my letters from my beloved fans since my debut, and I like looking through them.’’

“Hey, Kim Namjoon, fucking hurry up,” Taehyung hissed into the cellphone pressed against his flawless cheek,” My shoes are going to get stained at this point. You know blood is a pain to properly get out of letter.’’

“Were you at least careful this time? We don’t want rumors getting out,” Namjoon’s voice crackled over the receiver, barely a hint of emotion in his voice. The beeping and honking of cars on his side of the phone call signaled the rush his manager was making towards his location.

Taehyung huffed in agitation, clicking his tongue sharply in annoyance as he skimmed his nails for any trace of dried blood. “Oh, come on, you think I really even care at this point? With the way the company takes care of everything, you’d think perfect ol’ me was…well perfect. But still, aren’t you guys way too good at this job? 7 girls and not even a peek from the public. Who else do you do this for, huh? Suga-sunbae? J-hope-sunbae?”

There was no reply. Taehyung threw his gaze over to the practically mangled body. Too bad, he thought to himself, she was really pretty this time. Red lipstick, silky black hair, wanted to become better acquainted with such a famous celebrity after her little interview, the whole fanatic spiel tied with a pretty bow of the title of an mc. She would’ve never thought that she’d go from being a bed-warmer to being so cold.

“I must be right then, huh? Suga-sunbae I can see, but J-Hope-sunbae…’’ Taehyung whistled lowly under his breath. “I thought you’d at least deny that. It’s the bright ones you gotta watch out for.’’

A dial noise was the only response. Did…Did this bastard hang up on him? Taehyung grimaced before three knocks rang on the door of the hotel suite, a signal from his asshole manager that Namjoon had finally arrived. Taehyung rolled back his shoulders, his joints crackling a little, and made sure all of his jewelry was perfectly back in place before he opened the door.

As Namjoon shuffled in with some of the staff members, Taehyung clasped his silver watch around his wrist with a soft click. He rolled his neck, trying to get the stiffness out of it, and exposed purple marks and bruises from the bites the now dead girl had given him when they had been fucking earlier.

Finally, his headache was gone.

You chugged down a cup of stale coffee and wiped the dribble of liquid that escaped the corner of your mouth as you clicked off some article about a newbie mc receiving slander after rumors of her making moves on a popular idol was exposed and disappearing to avoid the backlash. Squinting at your screen with dry eyes, you pursed your lips and snapped the laptop shut, pushing the device away from you in an agitated huff.

“Wbat’s got you in the gutters, huh? Let me guess…,’’ Park Jimin, your desk mate, rolled his chair over to your side, his glasses askew on his nose,” Ah, your favorite celebrity go into a dating scandal? Let me think, who was it that recently go into a scandal… Oh, is it that pretty boy from a new idol group?’’

You gave him the stink-eye, and your sigh this time was even louder.

“You’d think there’d be something more…interesting going with these celebrities that we could get our hands on. Too much money, lots of stress, yet no story that’ll really seize the audience by surprise, and don’t you dare say a dating scandal would do it. Boss’s been on my case for the whole week on writing an article to shock the audience and wants me to release a major headliner story in two weeks, or that asshole’ll fire me. Damn it, Kim Seokjin!” you hissed out before slamming your forehead onto the desk.

“Man, be careful with your volume; if he hears your tone, he’ll chew you out for another hour that you could be using to research. Boss Kim is picky like that with everyone because our company’s a small piece of seaweed in a system dominated by crustaceous predators.” Jimin poked you in the side jokingly, his plush lips spread in a wide smile that lit up his exhausted face. “Just think really hard; use that big brain of yours and focus on a celebrity. Come on, no one’s perfect, even that one super famous idol Kim Taehyung must have some flaws, so don’t sweat it.”

“That golden boy? Man, the whole nation’s pussy-whipped for him. He couldn’t possibly be anything bu—,’’ you sharply inhaled before pushing your seat back and rapidly swiveling to face Jimin,’’ Park. Fucking. Jimin. Oh my God, you’re a fucking genius! A whole career with not even a speck of dirt… Come on, even pure-faced idol Soyeon was caught with a scandal last month. There must be something on the nation’s golden boy!’’

Jimin’s eyes widened in surprise with your sudden outburst, and he opened his mouth to speak. “Be careful about the way you go when you try to fish out info on him. His company’s security isn’t something easy to get through, and not a single celeb from that company has gotten into a single scandal. No reporters been able to get any dirt from them…”

“Which means that…there’s something sketchy happening. Jimin, Jimin, have I told you I’m in love with you?’’

You turned around quickly in your chair, spinning in glee. Jimin dropped his mouth open to sputter something, and his cheeks were tinging red, but you weren’t looking at or even listening to Jimin at hat point, having already cracked open your laptop to furiously type Kim Taehyung into Naver. This was it! Your big break! Your motivation sky-rocketed, and you felt the first rush of energy that wasn’t fueled by some caffeinated drink in a long while.

Two hours later, you were ready to throw up.

All of the results were sickeningly the same bullshit, as what was expected for someone as beloved by the nation as Kim Taehyung was. You couldn’t fathom the amount of fancams and magazine spreads of him posing on some brown leather sofa and fact pieces—hell, you even knew what kind of socks the man liked—that you had spent the past hours scrolling through.

Realizing that the office was nearly empty, and that the sky was dimming into a dark hue, you were about to shut down your laptop and call it a long fucking day when a tweet on someone’s SNS caught your eye.

@truth-teller: kim taehyung? nation’s golden boy? are you all really sure about that nonsense?

The tweet was spammed with angered replies, so many that the thread seemed to stretch on for at least a mile, but your interest was piqued. This was the first word of slander you had ever witnessed against Taehyung. You quickly pounded out a message to the account.

@name_01: hey, I saw your tweet about taehyung! Do you perhaps have any more information on him? I find him suspicious too.

You tapped send and waited with bated breath for a reply. Minutes crept by, and you were about to turn off your phone and head out of work when you noticed three dots pop up, dancing before disappearing.

@truth-teller: you fr? I had to suspend my acc because of all the spam I got. No one’s believed me on it, but I have proof

You chewed on your lip. What if this was a joke, and you were just wasting your time on some internet troll with too much time on their hands. It seemed like you were taking too long to reply because another message popped up.

@truth-teller: if you don’t believe me then that’s fine. I don’t have to waste my time

@name_01: WAIT! Sorry, it took me a second to comprehend this information… Please tell me more.

You were worried that the account wouldn’t reply anymore, and that you had ruined your opportunity before the three dots popped up again and another message was sent.

@truth-teller: ok, if you want to find out more let’s move to a better messaging platform, just in case my acc gets suspended by more fans. here’s my number: xxx-xxx-xxxx

It was a gamble to send some stranger on the internet your number, but at this point, you were too desperate to really give a damn. There was a story just out of the reach of your fingertips; you would be a fool to deny the carrot on a stick you were being provided.

@name-01: okay, I’ll message you.

Name: hey! Truth-teller right? This is me from the messages

JK: yeah that’s me. I prefer JK when I’m not on sns tho

Name: I’m (y/n). I don’t mean to sound like I’m hurrying you, but I want to hear what you have to say about Taehyung.

JK: lol r u a reporter or smth? Real bossy of you keke

You sucked in a breath. Should you reveal that?

Name: haha would it be bad if I said I was?

There was no response for the next 15 minutes. Exhaling a long sigh, you decided that you should at least maneuver your way home; the office had been cleared out completely during your conversation with this JK, and you couldn’t help the creeps that the emptiness gave you. If anything, the walk back to your place would give you some outlet for the nervous energy radiating throughout you. You were nearly at the door of your apartment when your phone vibrated in your pocket, signaling a message.

JK: just checking. Makes sense that you’re one though. It’d be nice if you could break this story out, but I hope you trust me enough after I tell you what I know

You clicked the door shut behind you, your eyebrows creased as you stared at your phone screen.

Name: don’t worry. I trust you!

You dropped your bag down onto the sofa before throwing your body onto the seat. The three dots under JK’s name popped up for several minutes before disappearing. In the place of the three dots, a long message had been typed out.

JK: I didn’t really think much of taehyung when I first heard about him since he’s the nation’s golden boy or whatever bs title they call him nowadays, but my sister’s friend was a big fan of him. she went out with my sister and they met him in some shady club in gangnam. my sister’s friend got to talk to him exclusively and my sister got separated from her and got a text from her friend saying that she had smth come up and she already went home. she tried to contact her friend the day after, but she got a text back saying that her friend wasn’t feeling well. my sister’s friend was “best friends’’ with her but she didn’t contact my sister again until a week later saying she got a job opportunity overseas and already was about to board on the plane because it was important she got there fast. my sister’s friend didn’t contact her again like she dropped off the face of the earth

You pursed your lips in contemplation as you tapped out a message back, your nails clicking against the screen.

Name: ?? Are you sure that isn’t a coincidence?

JK: yeah, I thought so too but it was rly sus that my sister’s friend who had known my sister for 12 years to suddenly go overseas for a job opportunity without telling her at all. and when my sister tried to get new contact info from her friend there was no reply. but I got curious and since I do some computer work for my job i wanted to see if I could track the ip address of her phone but there was nothing. her last previous ip was all the way back in gangnam and my sister’s friend lived in incheon. that was a red flag so I decided to go talk to the landlord at my sister’s friend’s old apartment and the landlord said he didn’t see her come back since before that night but woke up to a fully paid lease and the apartment cleared out

You squinted your eyes at the screen, unable to properly process the information that this so-called JK had just given you. Chewing on your lip, you closed your eyes briefly before opening them back up and typing back a message.

Name: anything else? Sorry…just seems a bit far-fetched.

JK: think whatever then. I have to go to work now

Right when JK’s message popped up, another message pinged on your cell. You refused to let yourself ponder more on JK’s last message as you clicked on your friend’s text notification.

Platonic LOML <3: BAE, R U FREE TONIGHT? I’m lonely n want someone to come with me to this club— ik you’re not into clubs but pretty please

You were about to reply with a refusal when JK’s words came up to your mind again. You didn’t know why, but there was a sharp feeling in your gut that told you that you couldn’t miss this opportunity Call it silly intuition or some coincidental fabrication spurned by your mind, but that feeling persisted until you typed out a reply to your friend.

Name: okay fine. Come over in 30.

Taehyung swirled the liquid in his glass, watching the deep burgundy of the wine stain the glass a soft pink. His head was hurting again, and the new medication he had been taking for them on advice of the company didn’t work.

He scanned the dim, musty club, watching the pulsating lights cloak the dancing bodies in sallow shades of pale yellow. This club was a downgrade from his previous celebrity-exclusive club that he had gone to the previous week, but his manager had told him that if he really wanted peace, he should choose an area where no one would really know him.

Taehyung knew the real reason why his manager had insisted on this. Deaths of other celebrities were much harder to cover up after all.

Pity he actually followed his manager’s advice for once. The wine in here, despite the bougie price tag, was complete shit and provided him a slight buzz at best. And there was no one who really caught his eye out of the crowd of people. As he was about to get up from his seat and leave the club for somewhere with better—he contemplated going back to that celebrity club just to fuck with his company—pickings, he caught sight of someone entering the club.

You looked absolutely gorgeous, swathed in a black shift that you kept fighting to keep over your ass—and god, was it a plump ass too, the kind that made Taehyung’s cock hard in his tight black pants—with hair framing your face in a breathtaking way that showed glimpses of sparkling jewelry. Your friend, some chick with dyed green hair that Taehyung didn’t bother paying attention to, was clinging onto your arm, dragging you near the dance floor.

Taehyung knew.

He couldn’t take his eyes off you.

His head seemed to clear from the mind-numbing throb it always had when he spent too much time without another victim to take his aggression out of. Feeling the cool metal of the blade he always had tucked near his body, Taehyung sat back down in his seat, a playful smile perking at the edges of his lips. Funny enough, the blood thirst that never seemed to properly leave him was gone from his mind, an occurrence that was as rare as the pills the company liked shoving down his throat actually working for once.

You maneuvered your way over to the bar, to him, your friend pouting as she noticed you leaving before melting away into the crowd of grinding bodies. Taehyung swore then and there that the attraction between you and him was absolutely magnetic, with the way you seemed to pull the other towards one another.

He watched as you ordered some pretty-colored martini, adorably scrunching your face as the burn of alcohol coated your tongue and hit the back of your throat with a singe.

Maybe, Taehyung though to himself as he propped his chin lazily on his palm, he should really start listening to his manager more often.

Your mind was in a haze, and you didn’t even notice the man next to you until he was nearly pressed to your side, barely leaving a gap of space between the two of you.

You glanced at him, your tipsy mind suddenly sobering up as you realized who the man sitting next to you was. Kim Taehyung? What the fuck was he doing here?

“Another drink for a pretty lady?” Taehyung’s teeth showed as he charmingly flashed an award-winning coquettish smile at you, his already extremely handsome features seeming to increase in beauty from the grin.

You remembered JK’s words and a chill ran up your spine. God, his messages didn’t seem so implausible now, did they? Goosebumps rose up on your skin, freezing you to the bar table. Were…Were you his next victim?

You swallowed dryly as you tried to calm your racing heartbeat. The side of you that was a reckless journalist wanted to take a nosedive at the headliner just out of reach, but the rational side of you knew that leap of faith had a much bigger chance of you ending up disappearing off for a new job opportunity overseas, as Taehyung’s company would have it. You couldn’t write a good story if you were dead, after all.

“Thank you, but I can pay for my own drinks,’’ your lips twitched slightly as you forced them into a hopefully convincing gentle smile, refusing his offer softly before moving your body casually a few inches away from him,” Having drinks bought by strangers isn’t really my thing.”

Your smile must’ve looked a hell of a lot less nervous than you actually felt and a lot more convincing too because Taehyung’s shoulders, which had previously been winded like he was a predator getting ready to pounce on prey, seemed to relax at your words.

There was a dark gleam in his eyes when he again invaded your personal space and pushed his body near yours. He leaned in and whispered softly into your ears, his voice clear despite the early 2010s hits blaring from the speakers by the dance floor.

“If you’re scared of strangers, why don’t we get to know each other a bit?’’

Your fake smile grew stiff on your face. You felt like you were going to hurl the convenience store meal of ramen that you had scarfed before coming to the club all over the bar and Taehyung’s expensive luxury bran clothes. You could feel a sense of dread in your bones, the kind a prey animal would feel as a predator focused its carnivorous attention on them.

You forced a fake laugh, trying to drive the message that you were just not interested to Taehyung as loud and clear as you could manage.

“No thanks; I have enough people I’m close to. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ve left my friend alone for far too long on the dance floor.”

You pushed yourself off the bar table, flashing a strained polite smile before you headed over the dance floor, trying to keep your pace slow and steady instead of breaking out into the outright run you wanted to do.

Taehyung inhaled the linger scent of your perfume, a natural smell that sweetly layered itself over the damp musky air of the club. His eyes, even as you tried to focus on the pounding music and forget the fear embedded deeply in your gut, never seemed to leave your form. Even when you burrowed yourself deeply into the crowd away from his view, you could still feel it.

You found yourself painfully sober after that encounter, trying to look normal in front of your friend for the rest of the night that seemed to painstakingly drag on for eternity. Even when you had the short 2-minute walk from the cab you took to your front door, you didn’t stop looking over your shoulder, still feeling the chill that came with the thought of Taehyung’s gaze. When you got inside your home, the bubbling nausea in your stomach took control over you, and you ended up heaving your dinner down the toilet.

When you managed to somewhat pull yourself together, you typed out a quick message with practically shaking fingers to the only one you could think of in that moment would understand what you were feeling, You stared at your unsent message before hastily pressing send.Name: I didn’t know who to talk to, but I saw Taehyung at the club today. I think you’re right about what you said about Taehyung.

Name: I didn’t know who to talk to, but I saw Taehyung at the club today. I think you’re right about what you said about Taehyung.

Ping!

You barely managed to fall asleep that night, and your eyes painfully ached when you peeled your eyelids open, hurriedly grabbing your phone and turning it on to check your messages.

JK: what happened? Sry for late response. Job keeps me busy all night

Your fingers flew over the keyboard as you typed out your message, furrowing your eyebrows in concentration as you tried to relay the events of your night in hopefully comprehensible words.

Name: I went with my friend to some sketchy club idk what area at this point but I went to the bar and I felt someone come up to me ?? I turned and realized it was Taehyung, and he offered to buy me a drink but I declined. Makes me sick how I could’ve been his next victim, so I tried to leave and go back to where there was more ppl in the club, But I can’t stop thinking about the look in his eyes. There was something sickening in them, I couldn’t put my finger on it.

JK didn’t respond for a bit, and you exhaled a trembling breath when his message popped up.

JK: be careful. Im glad you managed to get away

Name: I’m scared. I didn’t know what to do, but hopefully I’ll never see him again once I get this scoop out.

JK: stay safe. Thx for telling me. Text me if anything else happens.

You let out a shaky breath before clicking your phone off, your nerves still rattled but slightly more calmed down after talking with JK. You had to get ready for work, but at this rate, you weren’t even sure how you would be able to get through the day. Maybe you should take a sick day? No, you couldn’t.

The elevator dinged closed behind you as you stepped out of it into the office. As you were about to take a seat at your desk, your boss rushed out of his office, relief, something he never showed to you, evident on his expression once he caught sight of you.

“(Y/n)! Come into my office; I have an important job for you,’’ your boss ushered you into his office without another word, practically pushing a baffled you into the room frantically,” You know the company that manages Kim Taehyung? They reached out and agreed to an exclusive one-on-one interview with Kim Taehyung only, and only, if you agreed to the interview.”

You stiffened, your body frozen as you tried to process the words your boss had just spoken. Your brain seemed to be running a marathon as you computed the words your boss said, and you could only meekly respond with a limp,” Why me? Can’t somebody…Can’t someone else take over? Boss…you know I’m not that experienced.”

Boss Kim barely paid any attention to your words as he rested a hand on your shoulder with a confident look on his face.

“Then, use this opportunity to get more experience. You want to show the world that you’re a journalist by getting a scoop? Then take this interview! You know the company never agrees to exclusive one-on-one interviews unless they’re all staged, but there wasn’t even talk of this being staged at all. If you can use this opportunity and get something big, won’t this be your biggest step towards a great journalist career?’’ your boss exclaimed,’’ If you back out, another chance like this won’t come again!”

As much of an asshole Boss Kim was sometimes, you could find the logic in his words. Besides, it must be a coincidence that Kim Taehyung wanted you specifically to give him an interview; maybe he wanted a newbie, so they wouldn’t have much experience trying to fish out personal details and twist his words.

That’s right. There was no way he even remembered what you looked like. You guys interacted for, what, a solid 2 minutes last night. And if you did this interview right, you could use it as a building block as evidence for the headliner you intended to release with what JK had told you.

You exhaled, nodding your head firmly.

“I will. I’ll take this interview.”

Boss Kim’s face brightened, making him look much more like the stereotypical handsome CEO character found in dramas. Since he always looked exhausted and stressed out, he always seemed more intimidating, an aura that seemed to scare off any thoughts about how gorgeous he actually was. You had to admit: your heart did flutter a bit at his face.

“Excellent! He’s waiting in the meeting room right now! You only need, what, six hours to prepare, right?”

Fuck, you take back that heart flutter. Boss Kim was an asshole.

“S-Sir,’’ you sputtered,” I can’t…’’

Before you even finished your words, Boss Kim was already ushering you back out of the office.

“I believe in you! You got this!”

He closed the door behind you. You swallowed back the mouthful of swears you wanted to spew before scrambling towards your desk.

You weren’t prepared, but you knew you would do anything for a scoop.

Exactly 6 hours and seventeen seconds later, you were primly seated in front of Kim Taehyung.

The seats were annoyingly too close, and you cursed Boss Kim in your heart, knowing that the reason why the chairs were placed in such an unprofessional manner was because Boss Kim wanted to create the perfect intimate setting for no cost. If you tried to extend your legs, you’d end up smacking them straight into Taehyung’s legs.

You, although disgruntled, had to admit that there was a reason why so many major brands wanted him as their model. He was handsome under the shitty lighting of the musty club last night, but here, with his hair and makeup carefully done despite the fluorescent lighting of the room, he was every synonym of the word beautiful combined into one person.

Blond strands of his hair brushed his chiseled features, and his eyes, curved attractively and framed with delicate long wisps of eyelashes, was intensely focused on your face. He looked ever like a marble statue, carved with attention and detail to be the most perfect specimen artistry could ever create. But he wasn’t perfect; that was what you knew. And that would also be what would you get just one step ahead of him.

You swept a piece of hair and tucked it behind an ear as you scanned your hastily scribbled notes. His eyes clung to that movement, as if he was mesmerized by your every action, and you peeked a look through your lashes. Your eyes met, and you forced a stiff smile.

“Kim Taehyung-ssi,’’ you rolled your shoulders back into a proper posture, gingerly extending a hand out for him to take,” Good morning. It’s an honor to be able to do an interview with you.”

The edges of his lips tilted upward, and there was a playful glint in his eyes as his previous fiercely predatory state melted into the façade he put up in front of the public. He reached out and took your hand, throwing you off guard as he leaned in and pressed a tender kiss on the back of your hand.

“Likewise, it’s an honor to have an interview with you, (Y/n).’’

Yuck, you were going to have to wash your hands later. Anyways, what kind of person even kissed the back of people’s hands nowadays? This was the 21st century for fuck’s sake. You somehow kept your grimace to yourself.

You nervously laughed as you practically yanked your hand back out of his grasp. You casually wiped the back of your hand on the fabric of your skirt, disguising the movement as simply brushing off dust. Taehyung’s eyes didn’t leave any of your movements, and he laughed a little as he realized just what you were doing.

Oh, you were so interesting. You weren’t like the rest of them, the fans that threw themselves at him adoringly; hell, he was sure you weren’t even a fan. He was entranced. When he was close to you, the headaches seemed to fade; he didn’t want to drown himself in another body when he was with you. He didn’t want to kill when he was with you.

You ignored his burning gaze, breezing through the beginning parts of the interview. Finally, you reached the part that you had been anxiously preparing for.

“So, I heard that you’re trying out a new actor role. As a model and an artist and now an actor, we have to admit that your talents are incredibly versatile, Kim Taehyung-ssi.’’ You continued speaking. “Could you tell us a little more about this role?’’

“You flatter me too much, (Y/n).’’ He purposefully had left any formalities to the wind in this interview, a move that made you want to grind your teeth. “Yes, I was offered one of the leading roles in a new thriller movie. I’ll be acting as one of the charismatic but complex characters. I hope to show you and all of my fans a new side to Kim Taehyung.”

“Ah, a new side,’’ you nodded lightly,” Your new role as a charismatic serial killer who targets his admirers is certainly what many would call…complex. How do you go about preparing for such a twisted role?”

“Hmm…,’’ Taehyung’s lips curled up menacingly for a brief moment before fading away into a breezy smile,’’ It’s quite difficult to immerse myself into a role in which I have limited experience in, so I like to read through the script and make a map of what the character is like. What motivates him; what makes him so…complex, as you called it. I pretend to be like the character. How do I make myself think like him? That’s the question I like to try to find an answer to.”

“Ah, this is simply my personal opinion, but to truly play the character requires some true life experience…Is it possible that you’ve ever done anything similar to what the character has done in real life?”

A pin seemed to drop in that very moment from the silence that crowded the room. Everyone in the room froze and stared at you, their glances less than pleasant. You bore it all as you stared intently into his eyes. Slip up, you prayed, do something that will make you slip up. There was not even a brief soft sound in the 10 seconds that it took for Taehyung to respond.

He was rigid, the smile plastered on his face barely fading. Come on, you begged, expose yourself just a bit.

“Your response is lagging for just a bit, Kim Taehyung-ssi. It makes you seem guilty just a bit, doesn’t it?’’

He snapped out of it right then and there.

“I was simply contemplating my response. Your impatience is something not so befitting of a formal interview. To answer your question, isn’t a role just a role at the end of the day? If you think about it, I’m not the only person to have played a role like this. Many actors and actresses have done so without any thought of relating it to their real life. After all, a role is simply an imaginary self.”

You both stared into each other’s eyes, and you felt the gazes of other people around you burn into you.

You settled on a retreat. It was fine; this interview was just the first building block. You laughed lightly, throwing off the previous tense silence easily.

“Of course! We wouldn’t expect nothing but, right? We hope to see your talent truly shine through in this new role!’’

The tenseness in the room seemed to slip away right then, and the deathly gazes on you flitted away, like they were never there in the first place.

You let out a sigh as you left the interview room. God, that was terrifying, but you knew that you had to do what you had just previously done. What you had just done asserted the theory that you had. His company was hiding something about him, and that something was nothing less than downright horrific.

JK, you thought to yourself, I’m going to expose this story, just you wait.

“You weren’t just going to leave, huh?’’

You heard a familiar voice speak behind you, and you quickly spun around.

“Kim Taehyung-ssi,’’ you forced out of your throat,’’ I believed you had already left.”

“I was going to, but I wanted to speak to you about the interview. The company rarely lets me do interviews, so it was really refreshing to have one done with you. We worked so well together, and I would like to thank you for the pleasant experience you had given me with dinner. You must be starving, right?’’

You had been starving earlier, but one word from Taehyung left your stomach churning in nausea.

“No!’’ your voice was a bit too loud, so you hastily softened it,’’ No, that’s not necessary. You don’t need to thank me.”

Taehyung took steps closer to you, and you unconsciously took a step back. Noticing your movements, he looked at you and flashed a grin that might’ve looked harmless to others but outright menacing to you.

“Are you scared of me?’’ his voice was almost like a purr. You fought back a shiver, straightening your back and looking him straight in the eyes.

“No,’’ you stabilized your voice, keeping a waver out of it,” Why would I be scared of you? You’re not some higher being than me just because you’re a celebrity. You’re human, after all. But, as you can see, I have work to do, so I will have to politely decline your offer.”

“You can have the rest of the day off.”

You spun around on your heels, your gaze colliding with Boss Kim’s. When did he arrive?

“Sir! Boss! No, if I skipped out on work, I’d be a burden to everyone. Besides, I—,’’ your voice was cut off by another voice.

“It’d be good to establish a positive relationship between your company and ours. Your boss would usually be the one to go to a dinner, but I believe he already has plans. Any work you were unable to fulfill today will be taken care of.”

The voice seemed to chill you to the bone. You turned to make eyes with a man. Was he…Taehyung’s manager? Although he was handsome, the kind of handsome that was comparable with Taehyung’s, something about him churned your stomach. While Taehyung was like a predator waiting to pounce on his prey, the man behind this voice was already sinking his teeth into the neck, wringing out the… You snapped out of your thoughts.

Snap out of it, you mentally scolded yourself.

“How about it?’’ Taehyung’s manager coldly smiled, his tone like glaciers.

You opened your mouth to try to refute, but with the burning gaze from your boss, you could only dip your head in a bow, your voice low.

“Thank you for the offer. I accept.”

They couldn’t kill you, right? It’d be too obvious.

You followed them out, and when you passed by Boss Kim, you made a panicked glance at him. What greeted you made you halt briefly in your pace.

When Boss Kim made eye contact with you, he patted your shoulder in what should’ve been reassurance. His lips spread out in a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Don’t disappoint me, hmm?’’

His words, spoken low and steady, left a chill in your veins as you kept walking, and the sliding doors of the elevator dinged close behind you, effectively trapping you with Taehyung and his manager.

You somehow made it out of the elevator and through the tense car ride alive. Now, you were seated next to Taehyung himself in the private room of a restaurant. Smoke rose from the grill, briefly obscuring your view of his manager from across you.

You tried to think positively of the situation. If Taehyung was drunk, maybe he’d slip up, but…you made a furtive glance at his manager from across the grill, slightly jolting when your eyes collided with his own. The fear that nearly overcame you made you nauseous.

“A drink?”

Taehyung’s voice broke the tense silence, and you turned to see him already raising his glass. You stiffly smiled, barely managing to keep the nervous twitch out of the curves of your lips.

“I don’t drink.”

“It’s impolite to decline a friendly offer. Come on, a toast to a wonderful…partnership.” Taehyung chuckled, raising his glass, as he leaned his chin onto the propped palm of his hand,” And we wouldn’t want a bad start to it.”

You were panicking by now, but you could imagine what Boss Kim would say if Taehyung’s company pulled out because of something so miniscule. You couldn’t afford to lose your job, not with the way you had fought tooth and nail to get your position; you wouldn’t last a month without your job or the meager protection it gave you.

You made your decision, a decision you would’ve done anything else but avoid, and tilted the glass up, clinking it against Taehyung’s glass. Turning away, you made it look like you were lightly sipping the drink, but you only allowed the liquid to slightly wet your lips. You set down the still-full glass and smiled pleasantly.

“I can only drink this much. Anymore, and I would experience terrible side effects.”

Taehyung didn’t seem even irked by your feeble attempt at pretending; instead, his eyes filled with amusement. He didn’t stop staring at you, and the threatening vibe of it caused you to unconsciously delve into your habit of gripping your glass of water and drinking it in an attempt to calm your nerves.

You placed the empty glass back down before resuming anxiously picking at your food. A pair of chopsticks—specifically Taehyung’s chopsticks—placed a piece of barbecued meat on your bowl of rice.

“Not feeling hungry? You need to eat. Skipping meals is bad for your health,’’ Taehyung beamed as he watched you carefully pick up the piece of meat and eat it. It would’ve been delicious any other time, but the churning in your gut made it taste like sand in your mouth. You dryly swallowed it.

“I’m heading to the restroom.”

You heard Taehyung’s manager speak in his flat tone, and you threw a skittish glance at him as he stood up and walked out of the private room, closing the door with a soft click behind him.

“Ah, now that that nuisance is out of the way, why don’t we talk more?’’ Taehyung’s tone was playful, and you flinched as he leaned closer to you, his breath brushing against the outer shell of your ear.

“Kim Taehyung-ssi,’’ you gritted the name through your teeth,” Please respect my personal space.”

He laughed lowly before he dropped a hand on your thigh. You were about to make a move to push him away, but your body suddenly felt tired, like you weren’t quite in control anymore.

“Come on, do what I say, and your little news company will do so much better. Your boss didn’t tell you this, but your company’s going bankrupt. One peep from me, and your company will rise in ranking, but I can only do that if I’m in a…happy mood.”

Taehyung pressed even closer to you, his nose against the curve of your neck as he inhaled your scent deeply in. His hands moved from his side and he ripped open the buttons of your shirt, groping your bra-covered tits. You let out an incoherent mumble in response, trying to flimsily kick at him.

Where was the waiter? Why was his manager taking so long? They planned this!

Disgust and heat coiled in your gut, but you were too dizzy to move. Something…that bastard…Did he spike your water? You were too careless, fuck. Taehyung moved one hand to tilt your chin up before his lips met yours. Despite how sloppy of a kiss it was, you could tell he was experienced, practically tasting every inner crevice of your soft mouth with his tongue, and you should’ve continued to be revolted, but whatever pill in your system had you melting into his mouth.

Taehyung seemed to sense the turmoil and conflict in you and the soft give of your will, and that seemed to make him even braver. He slid a hand up your skirt, his touch hot even through the fabric of your stockings, and you let out a startled moan against his lips, drool dribbling down the corners of your mouth. He pulled back, and you could barely see through the teary haze of your eyes. It had been too long since the last time you had a good fuck. You just wanted to be touched…wanted to be fucked so hard his cock would press against your womb.

“I just want to see you let go a bit, baby,’’ there was the triumph of domination in his voice. The sober part of you wanted to rebel, wanted to push and scream and kick him away, but you weren’t sober, weren’t clear-minded. Your legs spread as if begging for more of his touch.

He ripped his fingers through your stocking, and the material easily gave way underneath his strength. You could feel the damp spot on your panties, growing as he rubbed his fingertips against your drooling pussy. You shivered slightly in delirious pleasure as his finger rolled over your throbbing clit.

“Mmph!’’ you let out a sound as he pushed your soaked panties to the side and pushed his fingers deep into your pussy. You couldn’t object, not when your pussy was stretching with a spine-tingling ache around his fingers, and especially not when he begin to set a teasing pace. He pushed his fingers in, and you shut your eyes in shame as your moans grew louder.

Your toes curled as his movements grew faster, reaching deep into you, and you were so, so close. Oh my god you could feel…and you were cumming hard. Your walls shivered and twitched around his still moving fingers, and you murmured a dazed plea as he finally stilled and pulled his fingers out. You, still twitching from how hard you came earlier, were ashamed to see the way his fingers glistened with the remnants of your arousal and orgasm.

The sound of his pants being unclasped drew you out of your drugged state. No, he wasn’t going to…Come on, snap out of it, snap out of it.

He drew back closer again, and you sucked in a breath, trying to push through your daze. He leaned in. You managed to bring your arms up to the table, grabbing the nearest object that you could reach. Your trembling fingers closed around your nearly empty water glass, and you took it, raising it and smashing it as hard as you could over his head. Water, ice cubes, and glass shards struck as the glass broke. Taehyung, not expecting the blow, had a temporary moment of weakness, and you managed to push him off you.

You shoved yourself up onto shaky legs, wrapping the ripped blouse around your weakened body, and forced yourself into a run outside of the room. The hallway of the restaurant around the private rooms was empty, devoid of any person. You frantically looked over your shoulder, relieved that you didn’t see him coming after you. This was a public place, though it was late at night, and you knew Taehyung wouldn’t risk his perfect reputation. But still, you remembered his manager was still out there.

You couldn’t let them kill you…You had to survive! You broke into a blind run, ignoring the strange looks and the calls you got from the restaurant’s staff as you pushed out of the restaurant into the street. You kept running despite the dizziness of your mind, and you could barely see what was in front of you before…You crashed into someone, slamming into their body so hard that you were sent sprawling to the ground.

“Please…,’’ you choked out, your voice strangled, crying out a desperate plea as you grabbed onto their clothes,’’ Please help me.”

Your mind was dizzy, splotches of colors splattering your blurry vision. Your body had overexerted yourself, and you prayed that you wouldn’t end up a dead body on the news as your grip around the clothes went lip, and you collapsed into the road. Through the buzzing of your ears, you could hear a startled voice call out, feel a firm touch grab your shoulders and try to shake you awake. Some strange hope rose in you; maybe…maybe…?

You murmured desperately one last mumble, your words barely making sense, as you spiraled into unconsciousness.

“JK…please help me.”

A/N: if you want to be added to the taglist for the next part, reply with a ❤️. If you enjoyed the story, please leave a comment or a detailed review below <3

Next work will be a fic for Jungkook’s upcoming birthday. Poll will be released soon for what kind of plot it should have!

916 notes · View notes

valeskakingdom · 3 years

Text

Request

Could I request a part 3? Jerome keeps the reader as his hostage for popularity and attention. Reader is really fond of the attention she gets as well and eventually sleeps with Jerome again? In the end she sees how Galavan kills him and is really sad?

Requested by @violentvaleska

For sure!! But again I gonna split this part in 2 because I noticed it would have been too long instead ahaha. I try to hurry with part 4!! Honestly, it's really cool to write oneshots!

And here it is:

Jerome x female reader (part 3)

Warning: mention of sex, depression and death

Word count: 3459

Gift credit: @jokersbabe27

"And here is our bedroom!" Jerome opened another wooden door and lead you into it.

You were irritated by his assertion 'our bed'. You weren't a couple or something. He just kidnapped and called you his property.

You examined the room. White pained walls, claret velvet curtains, a king size bed with while pillows and blankets, and some furnishungs. It didn't look that bad, much better than your little apartment.

"It's...pretty." You gave him a short smile hoping he would believe your faked comfortableness.

Actually you didn't feel well about that. You were around lunatics who either killed or are people...and you, you were the only sane one. You were clearly a victim for them. Sooner or later they would cause you problems.

You started to think about all the cruel things they could do to you in case, Jerome was not there: they could scare you away, haunt you for fun, or...leaving their sexual needs out on you. It was horrible, you literally lived in hell now.

The worse part was on it: you would be a loner if Jerome was gone. A nobody. Nobody would help you. Hell, they'd probably just mock at you that Jerome's property was just an anxious fool and that they couldn't understand what Jerome liked about you so much - you didn't even understand it. You were just a one off.

"But uhm...Jerome?" You turned to him.

"Yes, doll?" Jerome gave you a wide smile glaring at you with his big blue eyes.

"I need clothes... And all my clothes are in my apartment and-..." You knew you couldn't go back.

Not because of him and all your feelings for him- oh no, you wished you could go to your friend to forget the moment where Jerome frightened you to death. His permanent mood changes exhausted you a lot. On your way to his hostage, he made everyone clear that you were his property. No one was allowed to touch you nor to talk to you...They weren't even allowed to look at you. It was crazy. You should just belong to him, he was literally crazy about you.

So yeah, you couldn't go. If you went away, he'd chase you...and if he caught you, you'd probably end up dead.

"You don't need your old clothes, doll." He walked to one of the shelves and opened it: Lacy underwear, seemingly expensive but nice dresses, and some shirts with pants filled it.

"Uhm-..." Before you could say anything, you were interrupted by an older man in a black tuxedo and yelled dark brown hair.

You knew this man: Theo Galavan, the one coming into office of Gotham's major.

But what does he have to do with all the lunatics? And why were they living in his tower? It confused you a lot. In the TV, he seemed to be a good guy. Rich, clever, apparently cared Zabout all citizen's wealth. He wanted to safe the city, or even makes it a better place for everyone.

Your feeling told you though, he was the total opposite: a villain who wants to reign over Gotham.

Why else would he keep lunatics in his tower?! You thought.

"Jerome," Theo Galavan slowly stepped forward with a grin in his face, his hands were folded into each other "I see, you show our new guest her new hostage." He turned to you "I'm Theo Galavan, call me Theo."

"(Y/n)." You gave him a nervous smile.

"I'm sorry, you've been arrived during such ordinary circumstances." He placed his hand on his chest "It wasn't planned to scare you away. But I think we both know Jerome's little tick for an overdramatic show, don't we?"

"O-ohhh, yeah, uhm... it's... it's fine?...yeah," You stammered a little while trying "It was uhm... adventurous." You chuckled nervously completely ignoring his little question.

"Indeed," Theo chuckled darkly rubbing his palms, then he walked a few steps to Jerome and whispered something in his ear. You couldn't understand what he was saying though. You just felt uncomfortable about two people talking behind your back but right in front of you. You just could see Jerome nodding with a grin as both looked at each other. Something was wrong, that you can tell.

"Anyways," Theo turned around with a smile in his face "I leave you two alone now. Some privacy should be appropriated. It was a pleasure to meet you (Y/n) and welcome home." He shut the door and left our room before you could say anything.

"That guy's amazing, did I tell you? If you know him, you'll understand me. He's a big authority and-..."

"What did he tell you?" You interrupted him giving him a stern look "It was about me, wasn't it?" You didn't know where you've got that brave from. Maybe because you were a little scared about what exactly Theo whispered into Jerome's ear?

"I really hate it when some interrupts me..." Jerome grumbled giving you a death stare, his bearing was cramped and he clenched his fists; it looked like he was about to kill you every minute "It's very impolite to interrupt someone, don't you think?"

You couldn't say anything so you just nodded quickly in panicking and fear. More and more you just wanted to go home. You wished you never took the bus to your friend, instead you just could've ask them to hook you up then you wouldn't have been here.

You really didn't want to live like that: being frightened from your oh so called partner because he could kill you every time you were doing a mistake in his eyes.

"Good," but then his death stare and cramped bearing faded instantly and as always he gave you a warm smile "Now to answer your question..." Jerome grabbed your waist pulling you close to him, his nails were dug in your skin that it almost hurt a little "He and I made a little deal before I...you know...kidnapped you."

"And what for a deal?" You frowned confused.

"You should stay here telling nobody about him keeping me and the others here and so on...because if not he kills you." He chuckled louldy "Isn't that fun? He really thinks he can kill you."

You widened your eyes in shock and fear. You hoped you haven't heard it right. Theo will kill you if you lose any word about this here? You won't be able to go back to your home? To message your friends? Nothing?

More and more you felt like a prisoner...and more and more you felt like an object than a human. You were pressured, they decided everything for you... practically your only task was to entertain Jerome...however he wanted it.

"Don't worry, doll, he won't even dare to lay a finger on you." Jerome grabbed your cheeks softly and leaned his forehead against yours, his lips hovered over yours "Because I am the boss. Really no one wants me to be mad because you know... they'll end up dead."

He pressed his lips on yours roughly, his grip on your cheeks tightened. His tongue slipped into your mouth while he nibbled on your lower lip. You let out a little moan in arousal. As if it was a reflex you automatically wrapped your arms around his neck.

Jerome's hands wandered down; along your breasts what made you shiver and gasp, his hands stopped at your waist.

"I almost forgot the feeling when I touch your soft lips doll." Jerome interrupted the kiss and let out a sigh in arousal throwing his head back.

You blushed hard, a slight giggle escaped your lips.

With this kiss, Jerome calmed you down a lot. It let you remind of that one special night again: the butterflies in your stomach, the happiness... You could say, for a short moment you almost forgot about his craziness and him being a murderer.

On the other hand, you still felt strange about the whole thing. A criminal was obsessed with you, his obsession was that big that no one was allowed to do anything with you...and also that you couldn't go back to your friends... You didn't like it at all. Your friends were more important to you than Jerome. You knew them for years and him... You've just met once.

Jerome kissed you again deeply, then he made his way down your jawline to your neck. You let out a little moan as he kissed started to suck on your sweet spot. His hands travelled under your shirt up to your bra clip to open it. You unbottoned his shirt and ripped it off his body while he tugged your bra from your body. You felt him biting your neck, first slightly then harder. It hurt a little and you knew that you'd be marked sooner or later - but you didn't mind. You knew what was coming right now. It was exactly like the first time you two had sex.

Jerome ripped your shirt off from your body and then stopped every single actions. He was eyes you, he stared at every little part of your body. He was like a wild animal staring at its prey and just waited for the perfect moment to catch it.

It made you shiver, but you loved it anyhow. It was very new but you could get used to it.

"Oh, how I missed that view," Jerome bit his lip with lust still viewing your whole body "Time to make up that whole year."

Jerome grabbed you by your waist and literally threw you into the king size bed right behind you. He was so eager to rip your clothes from your body to feel all this pleasure he has felt one year ago. He wanted to feel your soft skin on his, to hear you moans every time he thrusted into you, he wanted to be into you. He couldn't wait for it, so violently he unbottoned your jeans literally ripped them off your body.

You blushed hard. You were excited, surprised, but still you felt uncomfortable. You wondered whst was happening now. Does he expect any dirty kinks from you? Calling him daddy? Any pet names? Or other ordinary kinks?

You hoped for the best, you hoped nothing would have changed and you could just go on.

Jerome grabbed your face again and kissed you deeply nibbling on your lower lip. While that he pulled down your panties and inserted a finger into your cunt. You let out a sharp moan and your hips bucked quickly through the strong intensity of him hitting your sweet spot. You couldn't help but digging you nails in the sheets of his bed and arching your back as he speeded up.

He was rougher with you than before, almost violently. It hurt and was fast but it felt so good at the same time. You started liking it even more than the soft stuff one year ago. Your pleasure was stronger and him being rough kind of turned you on.

Jerome inserted another finger into your wet entrance what let you moan a little louder and your hips bucked.

Jerome curled up his fingers inside you harder and faster what made you moan louder. You grabbed the sheets of the bed tight to handle this big amount of pleasure.

Your back arched as he hit your g spot for another time. There again, you had this incredible feeling, all the upcoming pleasure in your body caused you a cribbing feeling in your abdomen that spread through your limbs up to your shoulders - this time it was much more intense though. Your core was aching and you became needy for his cock. Indeed, you were well pleasured but you want more. You wanted him to bury his member inside of you, filling up every inch of your cunt, making you scream and cum over and over again.

All your sorrows and worries disappeared all of a sudden. You didn't do anything for it; You just had eyes for Jerome and how he'd make you done undome several times. You didn't care about whether the others would hear you or not, you didn't care whether you'd rip the sheets apart or vice versa. You didn't care about anything.

You bit your lip in pleasure after you let out a loud moan as you noticed you were close.

Jerome pressed his thumb on your clit while continuing to pleasure you making you gasp. Your moans became louder and it became harder to hold them back. They way he did it just made you feel so good.

"Close already, huh?" Jerome pressed his thumb harder on your clit rubbing it in circling motions "Come for me, doll." His eyes kept staring on you. He loved hearing you moan his name through all the pleasure he was giving you. It aroused him much more than usual. He missed you and all this - he really did. The things that happened in his cell were nothing compared to you.

"Ahh fuck!" Right after he finished his sentence you released yourself with a lot cry.

The sweat was dripping down your forehead, you breathed heavy and uneven, and your legs were shaking and felt weak.

It was amazing for you. You admitted to yourself how much you missed this and you now remembered how good he made you feel.

With his strength, Jerome turned you around on your stomach waisting no time.

You blushed hard being a little worried about what's coming next.

"On all four, kitten." You blushed harder and did what he said. You felt a little strange with that nickname, it was very new to you, and honestly you would have never expected that from Jerome. His first impression to was him being a soft guy who rather prefers the normal way of how sex goes like...and generally, he didn't seem to be a dominant and rough guy.

You heard him walking a few steps backwards taking something. You were a little afraid what was coming now. You were afraid that he was taking a knife or other kind of weapons to do with you some dirty acts.

"My, my, my...You have such a beautiful body, you know that kitten?" Suddenly you felt something cold and sharp wandering down your spine. It made you shiver and gasp. You knew it was a knife and you just waited until Jerome started to hurt you "How many boys might have touched you when I was absent?"

"N-no one...w-where-...." You stammered in fear hoping nothing bad will happen. You didn't know where he's got that from suddenly. Was he jealous? Was he 'scared' that you could have a boyfriend and that he needs to make a plan to kill him?

"You really want me to believe that?" Jerome unbottoned his jeans and grabbed your waist violently inserting his dick into your wet entrance "It sounds a little surreal, don't you think? Who would not betray a blood-thirsty and cold-hearted murderer who's busted in Arkham?"

He didn't move though. Instead he pulled pulled on your hair tight that your head fell back what are you moan again. But instantly, your breathe hitched as you felt a cold and sharp knife pressed on your throat. Now you were scared, almost panicking. You hoped he didn't slit your throat.

"You know, I'm not a fan telling me a lie." He pressed the knife harder against your throat. You cut feel how the sharp blade cut your thin skin. Your body shivered in fear, your pulse was running and your breath was uneven. It felt like every minute could be your last one, it was just a matter of time until he killed you.

"I-I would n-never lie to you." You stammered quickly "H-honestly, I j-just though about y-you..." It was the truth. You really did. The whole year where Jerome was gone you didn't even think of dating a boy or of a simple one off. You were too much stuck in your thoughts about him, how he was doing, what he has become...

"Is that so?" Jerome didn't really sound convinced what let you panicking more.

"Y-yes," You gulped because you knew what you had to say now: you had to say you liked him "You J-Jerome...the l-last year was...i-it was hard for me b-because-..."

"Because?" You felt how the blade was pressed deeper in your skin and slightly moved to make a longer cut in your throat.

"Well," You gasped as Jerome stopped moving the blade "I-I....like y-you..."

This was not completely true but not completely wrong, as well. You did like him, but the old him more. You weren't scared of the old Jerome, you liked him being soft and kind...not frightening with this permanent changing behavior.

He said nothing at first, you could just feel his grin against your ear.

He put the blade aside what let you sigh in relief. You calmed down a little seeing the blade on the floor.

"I know, doll." His head moved from your ear, his hands were both placed on your waist.

And again, he started to thrusted violently into your wet entrance. You swore with a loud moan and arched your back.

Immediately, Jerome speeded up permanently pushing you against him to drill his member deeper into your cunt. His nails were dug into your waist what made you biting your lip.

Your whole body felt weak with every thrust he did into you. You body shivered slightly through this overwhelming pleasure. Every thrust hurt more, each of your moans became louder. Your nails were dug into the sheets of the bed deeply but still the pleasure he was giving you was too much. You couldn't handle it.

You moaned louder, almost uncontrollably, then your body gave in and you slightly collapsed in the bed.

Jerome though didn't waist no time - he kept drilling his member into you, grabbed your hair and pulled you upwards by your hair again.

"Oh my God, Jerome!" You cried out in pleasure while your legs shivered.

"So eager for my cock, you little slut, aren't we?" Jerome grunted and speeded up a third time.

You moaned louder, almost screamed. You felt how your walls clenched against his cock - you were close. You didn't know whether you could hold it back. It all was too much for you. You felt a knot in your stomach that was built up. It hardened with every thrust Jerome did.

"Fuck, I'm gonna-...!" You almost screamed digging your nails deeper in the sheets of the bed as you came. You couldn't even finish your sentence. With a few more thrusts, Jerome came as well.

You both collapsed on the bed. He still laid on you not even pulling out his member.

Silence filled the room for a while, just your gasps for air broke it here and there.

You felt Jerome's warm breathe on your skin every time he breathed out.

You closed your eyes for a moment enjoying this half broken silence.

Many thoughts crashed in your head together:

You told Jerome that you liked him and he surely will take advantage of it. Maybe he wants to force you to violent things like shooting at people or hurting them otherwise? And every time, you refuse he'd tell you stupid stuff like but I thought you like me, doll. You kinda regret what you said because you knew it will have consequences.

Another point would be his now increasing obsession and possessiveness towards you. Now he had the final proof that you wanted to be his and no one could ruin him that. He could call you his property because you liked him which meant for him: you wanted to be with him, you wanted to be his queen of Gotham, you wanted to spread chaos with him. Everyone else was his rival.

But then you thought that on the other hand, it was okay to be his. Everyone knew crazy Jerome could probably be so no one wanted him to be mad, as he said. And so nothing would happen to you.

"Even better than the first time" Jerome rolled off of you staring at the ceiling for a while while taking deep breathes.

"I agree," You slightly chuckled.

"And doll, " Jerome grabbed your cheeks pressing his face against yours that his lips hovered over yours "Never forget who you belong to. We don't want things turning out bad, do we?"

"N-no." You shook your head fast.

"Good...because you're mine."

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spookysmujer · 3 years

Text

No Más pt.2, O.Diaz

Summary: Things seem out of place after Oscar asks you to skip town for the weekend. You never listen and you were right not to this time.

warnings: angst, DamselinDistress!Oscar 🤪, cute s h e t, violence

word count: 3.1K

a/n: Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays! THANK YOU FOR 1.3K OF Y’ALL! Here is the long awaited part 2 of No Más which was fun asf to write, hehe. Please don’t forget, follow me if you aren’t, join the fam 💗 heart/comment/ reblog my content as well. And turn on those notifications for when I post new content, love y’all!

(Gif belongs to @merakiaes ✨)

“Oscar? Hey, I’m back, Oscar!” You move through the house, looking frantically throughout the rooms. When he doesn’t show up anywhere you’ve looked, you sigh in defeat and you lean against the bathroom door.

“Dammit!”

Your ears perk at the sound of his voice coming from the back yard. The shuffling of metal can be heard as you start to make your way towards the shed, you find him with dirty hands and a car part in his hand. You sigh in relief as you’ve been worried about him the whole way home.

He gives you a brief look before putting his attention back to the part in his hand, you step towards him and rub his back despite the thin layer of sweat, “I thought something had happened to you, I was worried and you couldn’t answer your phone.” You are peering up at him as he continues to keep his attention on what’s in front of him.

“Been here all day, mami. You worry too much.” He steps forwards to get under the hood on a project car he’s been working on. You roll your eyes as he’s been working on this car for as long as you can remember.

“I worry too much? What was I supposed to think with how things had gone down? Excuse me for thinking something happened.” You throw your hands in defeat, Oscar loved to see you get frustrated like this. When you voice your concern for him, it made his heart do a little dancey dance. He glances at you as he sees you rubbing your temples, “Aye.” You open your eyes.

Oscar wipes his hands on a rag and cradles your face, the motor oil smells strong but whenever he gets you to look into his eyes, all else falls away. “I’m good, you’re good, we both good. Mmkay? No one is gonna get me. Everything is handled.”

You nod and settle your hands against his chest as he pulls you in for a kiss, “The Prophet$ are done for. Now we just worry about our hustle and getting the fuck out of the Ridge.” He steps back to his project and you settle any worries right then and there, sitting on the old, yanked out car seat to keep him company.

But that 4 months ago.

That’s when Oscar and Cesar had gotten themselves in a little beef with the Prophet$. You were always so worried when he would he leave the house when he wouldn’t tell you where he was off to, or worst when he had some of the Santos keep you on the opposite side of town that one day, when you got home and you couldn’t find him til his cursing for jamming his finger from the shed gave him away. The day the Prophets$ no longer stood a problem for the streets.

Right now you are standing in the middle of his living room, chest tight and burning from running from the bus station. You’re lungs and calves on fire as you stand there waiting for him to emerge from the back side of the house. But to no avail, despite his car being parked in its usual spot. With a trembling lip, “Oscar..?”

But again, nothing. You have his cross chain tight in your balled up fist. As you head tips forward, you hold in the sounds that threaten to escape you as the tears begin to trickle down your cheeks and onto the floor below you. All those feelings, those nagging feelings that kept bugging you that something wasn’t right. But Oscar kept on reassuring you that everything would be fine.

And the level-headed you tries to make sense of the situation at hand, to make it rational and that this is no different from any other type of business Oscar had to handle. You make your way to the kitchen to sit at the table to calm your nerves before jumping into action. But the hope lasts just for a moment, you see a note hanging from the refrigerator.

“Mano, you will always be one of two reasons I fight everyday to find a way out. Garcias por todo. Take care of Y/N for me.”

In that very moment, you understood those sappy love movies. Those long novels made sense. And if you could explain what it feels like? Ripping fabric down the middle, stitches tearing apart and barely hanging on. It feels very much like that.

The sound of a people talking catches your attention as you peer out of the kitchen window. You see a few santos, one including Sad Eyes. Before marching out to question them, you snatch the note. They turn at the sound of the door swinging open. The ones who were just about to plop down on the run down couch immediately stand and straighten their stances as if you were the Queen of England or something.

“Y/N, what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be on a bus out of town?” Sad Eyes towers in front of you, a look in his eye that has him just as bewildered as you are.

You wipe your face, “Where is he? Where did he go? He sent me away, why? Tell me!” You begin to push at him to which he begins to stumble back, he tries to get his footing right but your constant shoving makes it nearly impossible. “Yo, cut the shit! Nothing you need to be concerned about. He said he can handle it which means we don’t ask questions.”

A laugh escapes you. So much so that you double over with your hands resting on your knees. When you straighten yourself upright again, the Santos can see you are laughing as tears are streaming down your face. They look at you like you just escaped the insane asylum.

“What’s this? Tell me everything's okay then.” You hold out the note, the tremble in your hand visible. Sad Eyes keeps his eyes on you as he grabs the note. When he does look at it, you see the very moment he realizes Oscar does not have whatever he says he has handled. A goodbye letter? That’s not something he would do though. It’s better to break amends if you know you aren’t making it out. Why would he do something like this? Sad Eyes stares at the note even though he read it over times.

He doesn’t know what to say. All he can do is sigh deeply and look back to you. And he sees how far you are beginning to slip. Funny, he used to be the one to tell Oscar that your tendency to worry would be the death of you and here you are now, descending in the hole that used to be filled by Oscar.

You aren’t sure what happened in the next few moments but you are suddenly staring at the ceiling of Oscar’s room. The room is dark and quiet, the light from the street lights barely shining through the curtains.

“You fainted.”

Cesar’s voice sounds from across the room, causing you to jump. He gives you a half smile as he stands to make his way over to you. Once he sits besides you, he reaches over to grasp your hand, “Sad Eyes called. I saw the note when I got home from my shift. He told me he had some things to handle with Cuchillos. I told him I could go with him but he said he doesn’t need back-up… it’s my fault. I should’ve gone with him. No one knows where he is. No one has seen him.”

The panic spreads through the younger Diaz like wildfire and you immediately sit upright to pull him into your hold. He unravels quickly in your arms, fearing that he made a grave mistake to not be more adamant on going with Oscar. “Cesar, stop. None of this is your fault. You did nothing wrong, okay? Hey, look at me,” You pull his face to look at yours, “You did not do anything to harm your brother. And we are going to find him. You hear me? Me and you, we’re gonna look for him.”

“We all are.” Monse stands near the door with Ruby and Jamal behind her. They give you small smiles and you return it back to them, nodding in agreement. You look to Cesar and squeeze his face and take a deep inhale. Where do you even start?

And for the rest of that day, you all were stumped. How do you find someone who left no clues? Who left no trace to where he went? It was useless to try to go to the police, you knew from Cesar that some cops work for Cuchillos. Oscar left his phone and wallet at his place so trying to trace his phone would be moot. The silence started to eat away with you, you tell them you were gonna get some air.

You walk onto the porch and lean against the railing looking out at Oscar’s shiny red baby. You smile to yourself thinking off all the memories you’ve had with him in his car. The many late night drives when you couldn’t sleep. The drive-inn movie dates. The first time you got to drive his car as well when you nearly took off the bumper parking at Santa Monica pier. All those memories infiltrate your mind, the good ones as well as the bad ones. When he would bring you home early from a party if you two were arguing. Or when you’d sit in the passenger sit, arms crossed, lips sealed as he would be going off on you.

With all those memories replaying in your head, you walk over and run your hand over the hood. If it’s three things Oscar loves is: Family, Food and his impala. That makes you chuckle out loud. How you wish he were here right now, “Where are you, papas?” You whisper to yourself.

Before you walk back to join the others, you spot the scratch mark near the rear tire on the driver side. You try to wipe at it but the scratch is deeper than the paint. You remember instantly Oscar telling you some little traviesos had swiped his car with their bikes when he went to meet Cuchillos that night.

And when you push the first domino, the rest fall with it.

You remember he didn’t tell you much about that night he was supposed to grill but had to last minute meet with the boss lady. He did mention the scratch though. He said that’s what he gets for stopping by Saul’s Place, a little taco restaurant, right after his inconspicuous meeting. You remember he took you once. And you also remember that very time he took you, he needed to handle something briefly in the area and told you he’d meet you at Saul’s place.

Cuchillos has lots of territory and with that territory comes lots of hiding spots for little meetings such as the one she had with Oscar that night and the others. Which has to mean that Saul’s Place has to be near wherever they met and could possibly be now. And if I were Cuchillos, I would make it so that I meet specific people in specific places. You pull out your lanyard from your back pocket, unlocking his car with the spare key he gave to you.

The teens in the house are alerted when they hear the impala roar to life. They exit the house in time to see you take off away from the house. Cesar tries to call out for you but it’s no use, you’re gone in the blink of an eye. He stands in the middle of the street, feeling defeated.

The shaky breath you’ve been holding is finally exhaled as you make the drive to Saul’s. And when you do reach, you open the maps app on your phone. Searching the screen for nearby areas. You zoom in, zoom out, slide it left and right and there are no obvious answers. You lock your phone and slam your head back, you gaze out of the window and from the distance see an abandoned warehouse.

“Plain sight. Ordinary. A perfect spot.” You say to yourself out loud. And then you see the spec of black shine. An SUV. That’s gotta be it. You reach over to the glove compartment and nearly cry out with rejoice when you see the 9mm still rests on the registration papers. Quickly checking the chamber to see if it is loaded, which it is, you exit the car and make your way across the street.

What am I gonna do? Walk there and threaten someone like Cuchillos and her guys? The anxiety in you begins to speak, halting your trek. You shake it though, despite how loud it becomes. The sound of gravel crunching causes you to move quickly behind a nearby bush.

Two men are walking the grounds, quickly appearing in front of the entrance visible to you and then disappearing around the side of the warehouse soon after. You take the opportunity to get in before they double back. When you get in, rays of the sun are poking through the rusted metal. The quiet is eerie but it’s quickly overcome with distant noises.

“You don’t come through when I need you to and that is the reason you are here. Do you understand that?” A female voice sounds and it could only belong to the elusive Cuchillos. “Go, I want to do this alone. He can barely move. I won’t be long.”

Shuffling of feet can be heard approaching you which causes you to quickly stumble back into the shadows, you hold your breath as people pass you by and you going unnoticed. You take a look and see that a few men exit the same way you entered. Cuchillos is talking again so you follow her voice until it gets loud enough to be directly next to you.

You finally see them. Oscar is chained with his arms above him, body beat and bruised. An eyebrow split open and running blood down his face, an eye swollen shut. He looks awful and the sight clenches your heart. At the moment, you see Cuchillos with a gun to his head. It takes all your restraint you have to not lunge out in the moment but it would just end badly for the both of you.

The 9mm resting in the band of your pants behind you. You reach for it and pull out the silencer barrel, twisting it on as you slowly move towards them. Your heart is racing, your breathing harsh as you step quietly closer.

“Truly sad. So much good potential. At least this way, your hermano can rise up in the ranks. Hopefully he’ll do much better than his big brother and waste of a father, 3rd time a charm, right? I’d ask you if you have any last words but I don’t care.” She clocks the gun as he looks at her dead in the eyes, ready to accept his fate.

But she sees it. She sees Oscars eyes move slightly when he spots you. Cuchillos swivels on her heels and faces you. Her hands move to point the gun at you but if it’s one thing Oscar had taught you is that when there is an enemy approaching behind you, to move your weapon toward them first before turning your attention and/or body. There will always be a second delay if you turn your body first. And in this moment, you see what he means. Because you were quicker.

You fire a shot at her thigh causing her to shriek and fall. She turns over to grab her handgun but you kick it away and shoot her hand, another screech escapes her. She clutches her hand to her chest, rolling on her back. Her face shows disgust. You squat and cock your head, a sinister smile appearing on your face, “3rd times a charm, right?” An empty shell falls after shooting another round, this time between her eyes.

A giant weight is released off of your chest as her lifeless body lays there. You grab her gun and shove it in your waistband as you look at Oscar, who has a look of relief plastered over his bloody face. You hold the gun to the chains and shoot, they break and he falls. Quickly rushing over to him, you cradle his face, “Oscar? Hey, look at me. You’re alright, just get up. We gotta move out of here, her guys are gonna be piling in any minute.”

He only groans as you try to help him stand, he weighs a ton. But he manages to stand and lean on you, you hold the gun on your free hand and walk towards the exit, the sound of someone approaching causes you to panic. But Oscar jumps into action mode, pulling the gun from your waist band and into a stance for the advancing party. The both of you in position.

“Hey!”

“Yo!”

Oscar curses under his breath as Cesar appears with Sad Eyes close behind. You nearly throw up from the amount of panic that had just built up. Oscar relaxes his body as you plant yourself into his side.

“Jesus H, when did you two become Mr. and Mrs. Smith?” Cesar’s comment even manages to get a laugh out of Oscar. The older Diaz steps forward and pulls his mano into a bear hug. Cesar immediately hugs him back. Definitely a sight for sore eyes. The four you look back to see the darkness finally defeated.

The drive home was quiet. But even then you would take the quiet over anything else. Oscar rests his hand on your thigh as you pull into the driveway of the Diaz household. You help him in the house and to the bathroom to get all cleaned and bandaged up.

“Hey, te quiero mucho.” Oscar whispers to you as you finish wiping off any dried blood from his forehead. “It’s done. No more. All of it. And within the next couple of weeks, we’ll be out of here. Living in some suburban ass neighborhood where curfew is 9PM.”

You laugh while he smiles, pulling you into his arms. You rest your head against his chest as he kisses the top of your head. But truly it didn’t matter. Whether you were fated to spend the rest of your days here in unpredictable Freeridge or in a gated community with a weekly neighborhood watch meeting on Thursdays. Home is him. Whenever he may choose to go, you follow. From this moment til beyond.

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254 notes · View notes

warmau · 4 years

Text

☆ [nostalgic] summer romance!au taeil~ happy late birthday moon man!! | find others here: johnny | haechan

part of you is sad that the closest you’ll ever be to him is at a safe distance

peering out of the window and into the baseball field below

you can kind of make out the details of his face from here, but you can’t see the birthmark on his neck or the glint of starlight thats always somehow in the deep back of his eyes

you can see the worn-out back of his uniform jersey - spelled out in hand-stitched letters - moon

but part of you is happy that you can at least enjoy the comfort of knowing he’s nearby

just the little whisper of the fact that his joy is minutes away from yours

you lay your head down on the desk

its the last day of classes and summer is begging you to go outside and enjoy it

but summer also means you wont see him anymore, even if youve only been seeing him from far away

not seeing him at all is a feeling you cant wrap your head around - no matter how many times youve tried to

“what are you doing?”

a hand comes down on the corner of the desk and you peek up to see the familiar, yet frowning face of your friend doyoung

he’s got the same baseball uniform on - he’s the pitcher for the schools team

“sorry, im about to leave-”

you slowly pull yourself together and up out of your chair, but doyoung interrupts before you can gather your things

“no, im asking what are you doing? this is the last day of classes and unless you tell taeil how you feel - you’ll have to wait months to see him again!”

im ok with that, admiring in secret is kind of a talent of mine

is what you want to say

but its too late because doyoung has taken you by the wrist and is tugging you out the door and down the stairs

you have just enough energy to pull away when you both come to a stop in the middle of the sandlot

taeil turns just as you want to break away, he smiles and says your name

doyoung lets go and everything around you looks like it might start floating, taeil included

because you didn’t even know he knew your name

“well, ill leave you two alone”

doyoung disappears - not that you pay any attention - all of your senses feel like they’re being overridden as taeil comes closer

his black short bangs are stuck to his forehead with sweat from practice, his skin glows under the hue of the afternoon sun

“do you have any plans for today?”

“n-no. i was just going to walk home.”

“can i walk with you?”

he swings his bat over his shoulder and waits expectantly for your answer

at this close a distance, its all visible

the birth mark - the universe in the dark browns of his eyes, the little blemish on the side of his cheek

you swallow a lump thats threatening to close up your throat

“sure”

you’re both walking slow, the other members of the baseball team have already trotted passed you

throwing whistles and waves your way before disappearing into the summer air, some people have passed you as well - on their way from work or classes

but still, that feeling like everything is gently out of place, lingers over you

because you don’t get it - why are you here? since when did your crush have any sort of interest in you?

“i asked doyoung why you never come to any of our games.”

taeil suddenly says, looking at you from the corner of his eye

his smile is a little teasing, and so is his tone, but it doesnt stop you from flustering

“oh- i just - i have book club so-”

“don’t worry, he told me.”

“im starting to worry about what else he told you,,,,,,,”

you murmur without a second thought, before covering your mouth with your palm

but its too late, you know taeil has heard you, and that smile widens a little more

“he told me, even though you dont come to any games, im your favorite player.”

you both come to a stop at the same time

“so ive been thinking about it, why id be your favorite if you dont even like baseball.”

you think youre shoulders start to shake a little, maybe its your imagination, but you think you can feel nervousness creep its way all around you

hes talking so casually, but you dont know what it means and you dont want to be told - on the last day of school - that your feelings have been discovered and rejected

you were sure you could just carry them on with you until graduation and then never tell taeil how much you really did like -

“and i think i know why.”

he takes a second to tuck his bat back into the pocket of his bag, then he reaches out and locks your fingers with his in a safe, steady grasp

he starts walking and you have to push yourself to stumble after him

because you cant believe it but ,,,,,,,,,, you didnt get rejected

in fact you think this means,,,,,,,,youve been confessed to too

taeil doesnt kiss you when he drops you off at your doorstep, he asks for your number and tells you to meet him on the weekend to watch him train at the park

you expect a message on saturday morning, but you get one fifteen minutes later

by the way, i like you.

sorry if i didnt make it clear, im bad at these things.

but,,,,,,,,i like you. i really like you.

who knows how many times you reread those messages, holding your phone close to your heart and then bringing it up to mouth the sentences over and over

on saturday, you see taeil and doyoung - both already with their baseball equipment on

taeil is swinging the bat as he warms up when doyoung pulls you aside by the elbow

“so, are you guys dating now?”

“all he did was walk me home do-”

“but he likes you, and you like him!”

doyoung’s wide eyes are searching for an answer and you just feel a shyness overtake you because, well, you dont know what this is

youre just happy to be here - beside him

but doyoungs question does weigh on your mind, even when the training is over and its just you and taeil and hes offering to take you somewhere for dinner and you blurt out;

“is this a date?”

taeil chuckles

“i hope it is - arent people who are dating supposed to go on dates?”

the summer descends into hot, long days - and before when the stickiness and heat used to irritate you, now youve found yourself falling in love with it

laying on a park bench, eating ice-cream and watching your boyfriend practice until the fireflies came out

then you’d sit up, watch him take his hat off and abandon his bat in the grass

stretch out, exposing the strong lines of his arms and back before joining you on the bench, getting kisses for another day of practice well spent

sometimes he’d end practice early, or show up at your doorstep when you didn’t plan to meet and take you to the beach

splash around in the waves and then rest his head on your stomach under the umbrella - shared towel spread out beneath you

he’d fall asleep there, and you’d open up a book you’d brought with you - only distracted when taeil finally shifts awake and presses kisses to your skin

you learn how to hit a homerun with his arms wrapped around you for support

you learn that he harbors an extensive collection of LPs that you shift through when the summer rain has come out and he cant go out to the park, instead you’re on the floor of his bedroom picking dreamy songs to play and dance to, washing out the sound of thunder from outside his windows

you learn where taeil is most sensitive, right below his ribcage - when you end up splaying your palm on the skin there an digging your nails in just a bit - he makes a sound and grabs your arm, pulls you down to muffle out some string of curses against your lips

you learn a lot that summer, but most of all you learn that you were never happier pinning from a distance than you are from experiencing the real thing

you hate to admit outloud, but you thank doyoung for giving you the push to finally enter the bubble around taeil you never thought you’d be welcome into

and doyoung just grins, says “i told you so”

and forgets to mention that he’s actually known about not only your feelings, but taeil’s all along - ever since a home-away game where taeil had asked doyoung before they’d climbed onto the bus

“whose your friend? the one whose always looking out of the window?”

when the summer starts to shift herself into the fall, and the heat dwindles down

you find yourself wearing that shirt, the one with ‘moon’ handstitched on the back, as taeil wraps a hand around your waist and tugs you into his side on the bus ride home

you go back to classes soon, and your time will be short between schoolwork and his practice

he presses a small kiss on the top of your hand and you want to give him back the shirt before you get off at your stop

but he stops you, those starlight eyes sparking, “you should keep it.”

so you do

you keep it and are amused when you see taeil get a new one, this one doesnt have his name handstitched on the back though - its printed in shiny black letters

you run your hands over the name sometimes when you miss him

waiting for a latenight call with good news

“we won the game!”

you rub your sleepy eyes and murmur that you’re so happy, before you two hang up you hear him whisper - like he always does

“i love you, i hope you dream of me”

even now, all these years later, when taeil’s become an all-star player for one of korea’s biggest baseball teams

and you’ve fallen asleep watching one of the live games

when he gets home, your husband kicks his shoes off and drops his bag

sees you spread out on the couch

the sports channel glaring

that old uniform shirt from his high school days tucked in your arms

he leans down, kisses your forehead and he whispers

“i love you”

you shift

eyes opening to meet his with a half smile and yawning as you say;

“i was dreaming of you.”

#im late i know............but it was like so hard to write this without being like taeil [breakdown]#nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct au #taeil scenarios #taeil imagines #taeil au #member: taeil #sfw #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 au #nct 127 imagines #taeil #nct 127 #baseball!au #happy late birthday my baby T___________T

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yandearest · 4 years

Text

May The Odds Be Ever in Your Favor (Hoseok x Reader Hunger Games AU) Chapter 3: The Assessment

Summary - Living in District 4 you never thought you would have to worry about being selected for the Hunger Games. With a training centre right near the dock of the houseboat you lived and fished from, your district was known for volunteers who trained their whole lives for a shot at glory and riches. But at age 18, your name is called and no girls volunteer to take your place. Your devastation is answered when Kim Namjoon volunteers for the males shortly after. Tall, muscular, highly intelligent and charming, the years of diligent preparation have bestowed Namjoon with the expectation of being the next District 4 champion after Finnick Odair last won 3 years ago.

Fishing for a living has granted you skills with a knife but, as your mentor Finnick is quick to describe, your beautiful face may well be your best asset.

Upon arrival in the Capitol you are quickly faced with the reality that Namjoon may not even be the biggest danger inside the Arena. Especially when you capture the obsessive attention of District 2′s own volunteer, and killing machine, Jung Hoseok. Hope soon fades from ‘survival’ to ‘the mercy of a painless death’ but Hoseok certainly has other plans.

Pairing - Hoseok x (fem)Reader

Genre - thriller, angst, yandere

Word Count 7K

Warnings - [in later chapters] major character death, graphic depictions of violence, swearing, obsession, dubcon-smut (smut will be marked so reading is optional), gore, unrealistically beautiful oc because I’m a sucker for that shitty trope and want to live vicariously through my writing (sue me)

The following is a dark fic featuring a yandere character, violence, obsession, and coercion. By no means does writing about this in a fictional setting condone any of those behaviours, much like Stephen King writing horror doesn’t mean he approves of psychotic killers in reality. Please avoid reading if any of these warnings makes you uncomfortable.

Previous Chapter: 1, 2

Cross posted on A03 so people can subscribe for updates/notifications

Throughout the course of your life you had found that the more you dreaded something, the faster it arrived. As you sat in the waiting room, waiting for the call to go into the training center alone for your final assessment, you couldn’t help but think of just how fast the training process had gone by, and that in less than twenty-four hours you would be inside the dreaded arena.

During your knot tying session after your incident the on the first day, you had formed a slight friendship with Krystal, who had asked if everything was okay. You had lied, saying you were fine, too afraid of telling her the truth after Namjoon had just blown up on you, and she simply had nodded in acceptance. But you could tell she didn’t buy that answer from the way she seemed to treat you with a little extra kindness. You stuck to her like glue for the rest of the training period, refusing to separate within the career pack without Krystal by your side. It was an odd dependency given she was the smallest of the lot of you, but she had taken to it rather well. She never asked you about it, but immediately went along, making sure you were always by her side during any activity. You could tell Hoseok was furious – constantly shooting glares in Krystal’s direction – but there was nothing he could do without disrupting the whole alliance, and proving that he was indeed the psychopath he had revealed only to you in private.

You had spoken briefly to Finnick about things the night after the incident with Hoseok. As a mentor he wasn’t happy, but his hands were also tied as there was nothing he could do to interfere with another district. He had suggested he could speak to District 2’s mentor to try and get more information on Hoseok’s background but you had immediately shut that down, terrified that it would somehow get back to Hoseok and he would think you were reciprocating his own interest. The idea was also dangerous because it would expose just how threatened you were to their mentor, who could easily use that to their advantage when coming up with game tactics. Finnick had reluctantly agreed not to do anything, but turned the topic of conversation onto your remaining training time. He had suggested a focus on weapons, particularly knives given you already had some experience with them.

“Focus on what you already know,” he had said “Don’t waste time trying to learn new things that others are already experts with. You cannot hope to beat a master with only a few days of training. Hone the skills you already have.”

So that’s largely what you had spent the rest of your training time doing. By her own admission Krystal’s report card had suggested training with a weapon that could compliment her own agility, which worked out well with knives too, so you spent a lot of your time training together. You found out that despite being a District 1 tribute, she was also reaped, and not a volunteer, like yourself. But unlike you she had been trained at an academy, which was standard practice in 1. A far more interesting detail you had learned was she was Yoongi’s younger sister, and he had volunteered after her reaping. You filed that detail away in the back of your mind for future reference, grateful that some sort of partnership already existing in the alliance could potentially lessen the target on yourself later when it came to splitting.

You played off each other, regarding your knowledge of knives. Krystal was far more skilled in close range combat, and she gave you pointers when you trained in sparring using a prop version (made from a material of the same weight, which still caused some bruises, but wouldn’t actually cause stab wounds). She also helped you improve your skills in countering attacks and using a larger opponents’ body weight against them. Looking at Hoseok and Namjoon respectively you were terrified to know her lesson would very much be a life or death skill you needed to learn. In return you talked to her about your experiences with spear fishing and occasionally using a knife instead in shallow waters, passing on what you could about how to throw a knife. It was a skill you had picked up when you much younger, after being taught by your father when you were seven. Your mother had been furious when she found out and immediately banned you from knives until you were old enough to be working on the boat, but your father had still snuck in training sessions whenever the two of you were alone. It was never something you thought you would be using to potentially kill a human, rather than a salmon or tuna. You hadn’t even thought of it then, but it was likely his way of trying to prepare you for if your name was ever drawn from the reaping. Even though it was essentially impossible, a part of you desperately hoped you would survive in order to be able to thank your father in person.

You and Krystal worked well together, you had a natural chemistry, and both of you didn’t feel a need for wasting oxygen with meaningless small talk or chit chat. Your skills both complimented one another and you found yourself learning a lot. It wasn’t much of a bond from merely a couple of days, but you hoped whatever you had worked to build would translate into some sort of partnership in the arena.

The remaining of your training had passed as well as you could have hoped for right up until the final moments of the last day. You and Krystal had taken a bathroom break. Afterwards, when you were about to walk out of the washroom and back into the hallway outside, you could hear familiar voices beyond the door. Frowning, you opened the door just a crack to hear Namjoon talking to Yoongi, Hoseok and Athena.

“Seriously, she thinks you’re in love with her,” Namjoon laughed, clasping his hand on Hoseok’s shoulder. You felt the blood immediately drain from your face and a stone cold chill run throughout your body. You had seen Namjoon and Hoseok getting on better within the last day, but you weren’t expecting Namjoon to be at a level of already throwing you under the bus.

“Really? When did she say that?” you could hear Hoseok ask, although you couldn’t see him from the crack in the doorway.

“First day, back when she was in tears over that pathetic report,” Namjoon replied with a scoff. “Asked her what happened and she went on some crazed rant that you were going to save her. Honestly lost her mind on day one, why the hell we’re supposed to drag her around the arena is beyond me.”

“She’s not that bad, have you seen her throwing the knives with Krystal? Could be useful,” the only female voice had to have been Athena, and you made a mental note to thank her later.

“Please, she’s a baby. Wouldn’t be able to hurt a fly,” Namjoon scoffed. You wanted to storm out and show him how willing you would be to hurt him, but remembering a warning from Finnick held you back, ‘play along and act dumb so they think you trust them and are too stupid to make plans for yourself'. You couldn’t wait for the chance to stab Namjoon in the back at this rate.

“So why are we keeping her around then?” A bored voice you had rarely heard asked. That had to have been Yoongi.

“Her brains may be non-existent, but the empty head that carries her around isn’t too bad to look at. I say we keep her for the sponsors, get us some supplies from her capital fans. Maybe if we can get her to flash those perfect tits she’s covering up we can get extra out of them. Plus, if the arena gets cold I’m sure she can also make herself useful as a bed warmer too.” Your jaw dropped open at the vulgar way your supposed teammate was talking about you. You hadn’t even spoken to Namjoon since the incident on the first day, ignoring him whenever you were in the same living quarters and spending your training time with Krystal. Like hell you would be going anywhere near his ‘bed’ in the arena. Krystal looked equally as disgusted.

“Gross,” Athena deadpanned.

“What? It’s not like what I’m saying isn’t true, and it’s better her than you, right? Beautiful face, hot body, but not the sharpest tool in the shed. Throwing knives from a distance isn’t much of a threat in close combat so we can easily take her out at the end. Hey, Hoseok seeing she acts like you’re going to be her precious Romeo you can be the one to take care of our dear Juliet when the time co-” before you could snap and storm out to attack Namjoon yourself, Hoseok beat you to it. Like a viper, his hand shot out in lightning speed to grasp Namjoon by the throat and slam him into the nearest wall.

“Or how about I take care of you?” he practically purred, springing a jackknife he had somehow slipped into his clothing out and holding it against Namjoon’s throat, until you heard a scuffle of someone trying to pull him off. Yanking the bathroom door open you rushed out into the hallway, Krystal following quickly behind, to see Namjoon leaning against the wall rubbing his throat, as Athena and Yoongi restrained a livid Hoseok.

“What the hell is going on?” Krystal asked, looking between everyone. Even if you had overheard everything, you just stood there next to her, wanting to play up the ignorance they dismissed you as having.

Nobody answered, looking between each other as if waiting for them to be the first to talk. Of all people, it was surprisingly Yoongi to be the one to break the silence.

“Put that thing away,” Yoongi snapped, nodding at Hoseok’s flat knife. “Do you want us to all get beaten to a pulp by the guards before we even get to the arena?” Hoseok complied without any words, smoothly placing the knife back into a hidden pocket in the front of his pants.

“What the hell do we do now?” you asked, staring at the others. “A day before the games and a fight breaks out? How are we meant to work together in there?”

“Nothing changes,” Hoseok spoke. You frowned back, like hell nothing had changed.

“You just pulled a knife on my district partner,” you replied. You weren’t complaining but he didn’t need to know that.

“Nothing changes,” Namjoon repeated to your surprise.

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. We’re men. Men fight. Shit happens but we get it out of our system. Logically we’re still each others best bet in the arena.” Namjoon continued. You had to physically restrain yourself from rolling his eyes at the ‘men’ declaration.

“He’s right,” Hoseok agreed and all you could do was stare dumbly, wondering how the hell the two of them had gone from pulling a knife a second ago, to now suddenly agreeing.

“Like hell I’m leaving you, Athena isn’t leaving me, your district mate isn’t interested in leaving you either, and I assume Krystal has interests in working with you from all that training you’ve done together. Yoongi’s not going to leave his sister, so we’re all stuck together.”

“What if I don’t want to work with any of you?” you challenged.

Namjoon scoffed.

“If you really had the balls to walk away, you would’ve done it on day one. Especially given how I treated you when you were telling the truth.” You glared back at him for blatantly exposing you.

“If you split, you’re the easiest target for all the other tributes.” Hoseok stepped away from Yoongi and Athena to walk towards you. “That’s 18 other people trying to kill you, so you know I’m not going to let that happen. As I just told you, I’m not leaving you.”

You hadn’t heard much from Hoseok since that moment in the hallway on day one. A part of you had managed to convince yourself it was all a stunt, just like Namjoon had said, to psych you out and cause division in your alliance. Hearing him bluntly announce his intentions to the whole alliance, as he came to stand directly before you, caused the delusion to shatter.

“Leave her alone.” You were becoming so entranced by Hoseok’s presence that it took you a moment to process Krystal’s voice as she moved herself closer to you, standing so her shoulder was slightly in front of yours. Your heart momentarily warmed at the gesture before it was doused in the cold ice of your conscious as you remembered his sickening threats from the last time you and Hoseok were alone ‘I don’t care about the others… I’ll slaughter every one of them in cold blood… I’m going to kill them all for you baby and I’ll make you watch so you can see just how far I’ll go for you’

“No Krystal, don’t!” you cried in a panic as you reached out for Krystal and pulled her into a protective hug, putting your body in front of hers before Hoseok. “You don’t understand,” you whispered in a rush to try and explain. “He’s crazy, he said he was going to kill all of you. I tried to tell Namjoon and he didn’t believe me so I was too scared to tell anyone else, because I was scared you’d think I was crazy.”

You were trying not to cry, you couldn’t panic, you couldn’t be weak again like the state they had found you in last time, but it was so fucking hard. Why did you have to be reaped? Why did one of the tributes have to form an obsession with you? Why was your own district mate an asshole who had invalidated you when trying to protect the alliance? All you had wanted was to not be alone in the arena, and now you had a hope of someone you could trust and she was in danger because of you.

“It’s ok, I’m ok,” Krystal whispered back, patting your lower back reassuringly. But a sudden grasp on your waist from behind pulled you away, causing you to lose your hold on Krystal as you slammed backwards into a hard chest with a cry.

“Yoongi take care of your sister unless you want me taking care of her in the arena,” Hoseok’s voice hissed from behind your ears, making your blood run cold.

“No, don’t hurt her, please, please don’t hurt her,” you begged, twisting in Hoseok’s hold but his arms were locked around you tightly. Yoongi didn’t say a word, walking over to Krystal and putting his hand on her shoulder to lead her away. She initially moved to shake him off but you vigorously shook your head and mouthed ‘go’ to get her to leave.

“We’ll see you at the cornucopia tomorrow,” Yoongi turned back to say, before you exhaled in temporary relief as Krystal reluctantly left with her brother.

“Whatever you do with her, I don’t want any part of it. We’re aligned until six and then that’s it,” Athena sneered, drawing your attention over to her as she glared between Namjoon and Hoseok.

“Fine with me,” Hoseok shrugged. Namjoon who was now leaning casually against the wall merely nodded. You could swear you saw a torn look of sympathy from Athena in your direction, but it was gone in a second as she shook her head in disgust and walked off to re-join Krystal and Yoongi.

With Athena gone the tension that hung in the air was so thick it was suffocating. Namjoon continued to rest against the wall, his arms crossed over his wide chest watching as Hoseok still held you by the waist. With Krystal now safe with her brother away from him you realized there was no longer a need to stay compliant in his grip.

“Namjoon, help,” you hissed, trying to move your arms to shove Hoseok off but they were both pinned to your sides by his hold. Hoseok merely chuckled, instead flexing his muscles and causing his grip to tighten.

“No can do little dove,” Namjoon mocked with a pout, moving off from the wall to stand to his full height. “Your boyfriend here’s the one with the knife in his pocket, and I’m unarmed.”

Namjoon raised his hands in mock surrender, his long legs taking lazy steps to walk around the two of you. Hoseok turned, forcing you to turn with him, to avoid his back being left open. Namjoon ignored him, keeping his eyes on you.

“But don’t worry, because in that arena I’ll be armed, and I’ll take really good care of you then.”

“Like hell,” Hoseok scoffed causing Namjoon to laugh.

“Oh, would you look at the time?” Namjoon was now further down the corridor that separated the bathrooms from the training center, where he could see the large clock on the wall.

“Only five minutes left until end of training before they start preparing for our grading. I’ll leave you two alone for now, but don’t expect this generosity again from me in the arena, 2. I trust you won’t harm our little dove until then…”

And with that lingering comment, Namjoon was gone, abandoning you when you needed him.

You felt Hoseok’s arms beginning to loosen, briefly you thought he was going to release you. But instead you found yourself being turned around to face him and backed against the wall. Any thoughts of pushing him off vanished upon feeling the hard metal of the folded pocket knife pushing against your hip as he caged you in.

“What are you doi-” your question was cut off by Hoseok raising his hand to the side of your face and pushing his thumb over your mouth in warning.

For a moment Hoseok was still. He relished the feeling of your plump lips falling silent beneath his thumb, so pliant, like a kiss against his finger. He watched the rise and fall of your chest as you tried to regulate your breathing, inhaling deep breaths in through your nose causing your lungs to expand and your full breasts to push against his chest. Every little detail about you was so soft, so warm and inviting, like you had been designed purely for him. He was absolutely enamored by you and could spend the rest of his life in this exact moment, feeling you against him, but time was not on his side.

“Look at how they all just left you,” he maliciously purred, his eyes narrowing into a focused glare, “you know they’re going to do the same thing in the arena, darling.”

“That’s not true,” you hissed back, “Krystal tried to stay.”

“And yet all it took for her to leave was a simple pocket knife and her brother. And really, when it comes down to it, who do you think she will choose, Her brother or you?”

You tried to swallow the growing lump in your throat and stayed quiet… he’s just trying to psych you out.

“Meet us in the cornucopia tomorrow, you’ll be much safer with us six than left to fend off eighteen others on your own. You’re smart, you have to know they will chase down any career left alone.”

You frowned but nodded, you had already agreed on this, so you didn’t know why he was bringing it up again.

“Good girl, then you know you have to stay with me once we’re all together. Yoongi sees you as a threat to his sister. Your friendship makes her judgment weak so he will take you out if you’re alone with him. And like I just said, do you really want to side with Krystal when she would choose her brother over you at the end anyway? Athena is threatened by you; thinks you’re distracting me from protecting her in the game as part of our district alliance. I don’t blame her for that though, she is right. I would choose you over her. You know I’d choose you over any of them. And then of course there’s your own district partner, who I’m sure you just heard before… would you trust a man who wants to use your body to sell you to fans from the capital for supplies? The one who didn’t believe you when you tried to warn him about me? The one who just walked away and left you to me now?”

An aching wave of hopelessness washed over your body as you slumped back against the wall. If it wasn’t for Hoseok’s arm holding you upright, you would have just let yourself fall to the ground.

“Please stop,” you whispered, the lump in your throat felt like a golf ball choking you inside.

“I can’t, darling,” Hoseok murmured, his fingers over your lips moving to smooth the faint hairs that had come loose from training back behind your ear.

“Not until you understand that you need me in that arena.” His hand came to rest on the side of your cheek, cradling your face in his palm.

“I’ve trained for this my whole life, I’m the only one you can trust to protect you.”

“But how can I trust you? Like you just said you spent your whole life training for these games, training to kill people like me. It’s all hopeless, no matter who I choose.”

“Don’t say that,” He scolded, shaking you by the hold on your waist.

“You saw me pull that knife on Namjoon before, and I didn’t even know you were there. It’s exactly like I told you on the first day of training, I’ll kill anyone who tries to harm you. No one in that arena matters to me, only you. You’re mine.”

“How can you keep saying that!? We don’t even know each other. I don’t understand how you could possibly feel this way about me. It all just sounds like a cruel way for you to take me to the e-”

Hoseok’s mouth silenced your protests, his lips pushing against yours and hands holding you in place. His kiss was searing and dominant, offering no chance for refusal, though as you felt the shivers running down your spine, you didn’t know if you would have been capable if a chance were provided. You had found him physically attractive the moment you had met, and somehow it was like the passion you had seen in his eyes was magnified a hundredfold through his kiss. He was strong and powerful, yet simultaneously gentle. His arm supporting your waist held your body impossibly close to his, whilst the fingertips from his hand on your face were tenderly stroking the skin on your cheek.

Your eyes had unconsciously closed when his face had moved in to meet yours, which only seemed to heighten your other senses. The places where his body made contact with yours were tingling as if flames from a nearby fire were licking against your skin. Everything about Jung Hoseok was warm; his sun kissed skin, copper hair and the heat radiating from his body into yours. You were stunned, and in your frozen state Hoseok moved his lips against your pliant ones to deepen the kiss, the tip of his tongue dancing along the line of your mouth before sliding inside to meet your own tongue and try to coax it to return with his.

What somehow felt like an eternity was in reality a mere few seconds before an announcement echoed through speakers throughout the training center, instructing tributes to cease everything and make your way to a designated area for the mandatory final assessments to shortly begin. Hoseok broke the kiss, leaving you breathless as he whispered upon your lips,

“If you can’t believe my words, then believe that.”

Pressing his lips back to yours quickly once more, he finally pulled back.

“Come on, we have to go.”

You mutely allowed Hoseok to lead you out of the corridor and back into the training center where a Capitol representative with a clipboard was lining everyone up to be taken to the waiting area. There was no talking from anyone as you were all put into your lines and made to follow the representative into a smaller room, whilst the training center was to be rearranged. The waiting room was small and cold with metallic coloring. Black chairs were organized by districts and you were told that one by one you would be brought before the judges to present your chosen skill, where you would then be graded on a score out of twelve. The scores would be announced later in the afternoon, before your final interviews with Caesar Flickerman in the evening.

You wordlessly sat beside Namjoon, not even looking in his direction even though you could occasionally feel him trying to catch your eye. No doubt he would want to dissect your conversation with Hoseok but you had no interest in telling him about anything that had happened. Especially not after how he had treated you the last time you had tried to warn him. Instead you kept your eyes solely on the ground, nervously bouncing your leg as you worried about your upcoming grading.

Everything was happening so fast. It felt like only moments ago when your name had been reaped, since then you had already travelled by train, appeared in the parade and completed your three days of training. You felt sick in your stomach at the thought that the short time that had passed between your reaping and this very moment could possibly be longer than the time you had between now and when you would meet your end in the arena. You immediately tried to stamp that thought out, trying to hold back the overwhelming wave of grief threatening to crash over you. You couldn’t let yourself go down without a fight and giving in to the misery would only reduce you to a walking corpse.

“District 1, female.”

The man with the clipboard had returned to the room to officially begin the assessments. You noted how he didn’t even call for Krystal by her name, just a district number and her assigned gender. How cold and clinical, much like the room they were keeping you in. You wondered if reducing tributes to numbers without names made it possible for the man to sleep at night, knowing he was part of a system that sent innocent children to the slaughter every year.

“District 1, male.”

As Yoongi left with the clipboard man you couldn’t help but notice Krystal didn’t come back into the room with him. So you would be allowed to return to the dorm and prepare for the interviews as soon as you were done. You were grateful this would at least mean a few hours’ break from Hoseok, you would just have to lock yourself in your room quickly before Namjoon would finish after you, and try to interrogate you in your living quarters.

“District 2, female.”

No one had spoken since the line up. All too focused on mentally preparing for the assessment. You felt for the younger tributes who had never picked up a weapon before a week ago, now having to present themselves as fighters before a panel with only 3 days of training. Once again you were grateful for your father for his insistence on training you with a knife, which at least gave you somewhat of a starting point to work with.

“District 2, male.”

You kept your head down and eyes on the floor, watching as two pairs of shoes walked directly past you on their way out of the room.

“No kiss good luck?” Namjoon snickered next to you, deliberately keeping his voice quiet enough that only you could hear him.

You ignored him.

“What’s the matter, trouble in paradise?” he mocked again.

You continued to ignore him, making sure your eyes were pointed on the exact same spot you had been staring at on the ground since you had sat down. Your knee continued to bounce at the exact same pace. You didn’t want to give him a single flinch, not even a minute sign of a reaction, given that was exactly what he was trying to get. You wondered what he was trying to achieve by riling you up. Did he want you to snap back at him and get in trouble? There had been no specific instruction not to talk, the weight of the occasion had instead resulted in the silence, so you doubted it. Most probably, he wanted to get in your head and psych you out before your assessment, likely trying to lower your score. Internally you scoffed, it’s not like you were a major threat to him anyway. You both knew you weren’t a trained career like he was. He was already going to outscore you anyway.

“District 3, female.”

Namjoon had gone from dictating your alliance, to spitting in the face of your concerns, to now mocking you. You wondered if he would’ve treated an actual trained career better if someone had volunteered for the females of 4. Perhaps it was to do with his ego that Hoseok had singled you out and wanted to work with you, even though he was clearly the more powerful tribute between you. He had taken it as a threat. A threat to his chances if you did side with Hoseok given Hoseok and Namjoon were on near equal footing, and the thought you had chosen Hoseok could have been seen as some act of betrayal. Never mind the fact you had done everything you could to try and avoid Hoseok, including telling Namjoon himself and asking for his help. Was he really that stupid enough to be mad you didn’t continue to beg him after his rejection?

“District 3, male.”

You supposed if he hypothetically succeeded and did psych you out into getting a terrible score it would be his own way of re-establishing himself as the desired tribute from 4. A reminder over your head that you weren’t a real career, and being brought into their alliance was an act of charity. A mercy killing to grace you with their presence before taking you out later in the game as an easy option. You longed to prove him wrong. Not just him but Hoseok also, the both of them for thinking you were pathetic and in need of their protection. His mockery and attempted sabotage was only acting as fuel to your fire.

“District 4, female.”

Your head snapped up to see the clipboard man standing in front of you. Wordlessly you nodded and got to your feet. You ignored the feeling of the eyes from the other tributes in the room staring at you as you had to walk past them to the exit. You were lead back down the same pathway you had taken from the training complex to the waiting room, only this time when you re-entered the training center you were the only person inside. Clipboard man hung back in the corridor and the only other people you could see were the game makers through the window in their viewing room. The center layout had been rearranged, with dummies and targets placed in optimum viewing range from the game makers’ vantage point.

“L/N, F/N, District 4, Female, 18 years of age” a voice crackled through the speakers overhead by means of introduction, as you walked over to the marked spot on the floor you had been instructed to stand.

It was a strange feeling looking up at the pompous judges dressed in their flamboyant outfits with pretentiously fluorescent dyed hair and beards. It was as if they were dressed up for an expensive night on the town and you, and the other twenty-three, were their performers for the evening. It was weirdly easy to put the judges in the back of your mind, despite being able to clearly see the room of around twenty people intently staring at you with interest. The all looked so fictional and outlandish that it was easy to dismiss them as some sort of strange figment of your imagination. They didn’t look like real people, which somehow made it possible for you compartmentalize them as imaginary, and instead focus on the task at hand.

Looking at the assortment of weapons on display, you mostly ignored the large range on offer and went straight for the knives. Running your fingertips along the handles you picked out a hunting knife with a blade that would have been around 8 inches long. There were smaller, thinner, knives specifically made for throwing on offer, however the ones you had practiced with back at home were the larger kind on your boat. Gingerly you bounced the handle in your palm, trying to get a quick feel for the weight. Looking up you examined the range of targets that were on display – some quite close and others much further.

You went for the closest target, that was five meters away, as a warm up.

Thwack

The blade sailed easily through the air landing in the yellow zone, on the first circle outside of the bulls-eye. You shrugged your shoulders and rolled your neck with an exhale, not a bad start and a good way to get the nerves under control.

You retrieved a second knife from weapons trolley and took your aim for the next target that was ten meters away.

Thwack

Another yellow circle, except this time your knife landed in the second circle outside from the bulls-eye. Your pursed your lips with a shake of your head. It was still in a decent range but you were hoping to improve on your last throw rather than getting further from the bulls-eye.

You went back for another knife, choosing another one like the last two you had thrown, and lined up for the fifteen-meter target.

Thwack

Red zone, just outside the yellow. If you were aiming at a person, rather than a circle, that would have been lucky to connect. You let out a sharp exhale with a sigh, you weren’t doing bad – you’d made contact with all three targets so far – but you weren’t establishing yourself as a threat either. Not on the level that you knew the other careers were going to be scoring.

Returning to the weapons rack you found there to be one knife left that was in the same size range as the others you had used so far. You turned the knife over in your hand weighing up your final options. There was a final target twenty meters away, but with the rate you were throwing, you’d highly likely just continue to move further away from the bulls-eye. You could always try to throw on one of the other targets again and work to improve your existing result, but it would be difficult to improve much on the first impression of being ‘good, but not great’. Your last option would be the dummies. The dummies were situated on the opposite side of the targets and provided a more human edge to demonstrations. You had elected to use targets in the hope of showcasing solid aim through a bulls-eye, but that hadn’t exactly worked out. With one knife left you decided to try and showcase something a little more realistic.

The dummies were grey and faceless, just human shapes of rubber, which was a lot different from what you would be facing in real life within the arena. If you couldn’t land a shot on a stationary figure you were practically as good as dead. Not only did you need to prove a score to the judges, but you wanted this for your own confidence. With a frown, you turned and launched your blade ten meters across the room into the head of a dummy with a satisfying Thwack.

You didn’t bother to look up to the balcony and see their whispers and nods of approval, instead walking straight over to the dummy and pulling the knife out from the rubber. You weren’t finished yet; you were going to show them what a fishing district knew how to do best…

Grasping the handle, you plunged the blade into the sternum, deep enough to reach what would be the back bone of a human, and dragged the blade down to the pelvis. Pulling the knife out you made horizontal slashes along the chest and the hip where your line down the body had began and ended. Tossing the knife aside, you reached your hands inside of the dummy, pulling it open.

Granted the physical anatomies between a fish and a human were quite different, but the concept of gutting was quite easy to get across.

Once the assessment was over you were lead back to your living quarters. With the pressure subsiding and adrenaline wearing off, you found your hands beginning to tremble. You were thankful to have your water bottle as some sort of distraction, shakily taking sips to try and calm yourself down. By the time you finally arrived back to the dorm you were only able to answer Finnick’s “How did you go?” with a quick “fine” as you hurriedly rushed to your bedroom, not wanting to stick around and see Namjoon again until you absolutely had to.

The assessments were scheduled to run until 4:00pm, with the results being broadcast at 4:30pm, before tributes were due to report at the auditorium at 5:00pm to begin preparing for interviews. You were grateful to be from one of the earlier districts, which left you with more free time between the conclusion of your assessment and your next schedule. Your bedroom contained its own en suite bathroom so the first thing you did upon entering was strip off your clothes and head for the shower.

You spent a long time under the hot running water, sitting on the tiles and letting the shower cover up the sound of your crying. It had become somewhat of a routine for you to return from training and cry under the safety of your showerhead where no one else could see or judge you for it. The emotional toll it took to bury your feelings and avoid crying in the training center, in front of the career pack, in front of the judges, or out of fear every waking moment of your life now was strenuous. The shower was your haven, a place where you could wash away the sweat and grime from your day, and allow some form of pent up release. Today’s shower would be the longest one you had taken since entering the capital.

A knock and Finnicks’ muffled voice through the door told you it was after 4:00pm and the results would be broadcast soon, so you reluctantly turned off the taps and began to dry off. You were told that hair, make up and styling would take place in the auditorium later, so you dressed in the most comfortable clothing that you had been provided with; a cashmere sweater and matching sweatpants. You waited in your room as long as possible, before putting on a pair of slippers and walking out to the lounge room at 4:30pm.

Finnick, Periwinkle and Namjoon were all seated on the sofa facing the giant television, which was currently displaying Caesar Flickerman and a co-host you didn’t recognize behind a desk. Wordlessly you joined them, choosing a spot next to Periwinkle on the lounge, the opposite side of where Namjoon was sitting.

“And now for the moment you’ve all been waiting for, the scores!”

You frowned at how enthusiastic Caesar seemed to be over his job. His mouth was spread into a wide grin, showing off his artificially white teeth, and his emerald green eyes (that had to be contact lenses) were practically glowing with excitement. You all sat in dead silence, if it weren’t for Caesar’s voice reading out District 1 you would have been able to hear a pin drop. The results weren’t surprising to you in the least. Krystal and Yoongi both scored 9s, Athena a 9 too and Hoseok 11. The girl from District 3 who had fallen in front of you on the monkey bars only managed a dismal score, the same as her district number. Her male partner only fared slightly better with a 5.

“District 4, F/N, L/N! Oh, she certainly captured many people’s attention at the parade, but is she as deadly as she is beautiful?”

You rolled your eyes with a scoff.

“You better not do that when he talks to you on stage,” Finnick warned.

You sarcastically put on an overly fake smile and fluttered your eye lashes back at him, until your expression was wiped blank by Caesar’s next words.

“Miss L/N, 10.”

Your jaw dropped as Periwinkle burst into enthusiastic applause, Finnick cocked an eyebrow with an impressed nod and Namjoon let out a low whistle.

“Someone’s been hiding something~,” Namjoon sing-songed as you closed your open mouth and took in a deep breath. You shook your head.

“Just the same knife throwing I’ve been practicing,” you replied.

Technically that was not a lie, just an omission of the gutting part. You wondered what it was about your little stunt that had pleased the judges so much. You were hoping to bump yourself to an 8 or 9 to at least try and blend in with the careers, instead you had somehow managed to establish yourself as a threat amongst them. With how much you had been pushed around so far you were glad to at least have one moment of impact. But now you had to be worried about the extra target being a threat could potentially put on your back.

Namjoon didn’t reply further as Caesar read his name and announced his score of 9.

You blanched. There was no way in hell you were more skilled than Namjoon was with a weapon. You looked over, expecting him to be furious, but he merely sat there with a content expression on his face nodding at the TV.

“Someone’s been hiding something,” you repeated Namjoon’s words back to him.

Namjoon’s only response was a smirk.

You didn’t like the way he looked like he knew far more than what he was sharing.

I'm a bit annoyed because I planned to combine the final training day and interviews into one chapter. But I found it was starting to get too long, as this part was already hitting 7000 words.

Next chapter will be the interviews and fallout from certain things the characters say in them

Chapter after will FINALLY be what everyone here wants (especially me) - the actual Hunger Games in the arena

Sorry to keep dragging it out, my brain hates me.

#yandere hoseok #yandere bts #yandere #yandere bts fic #yandere jung hoseok #bts x reader #dark bts #dark bts au #y!hoseok #hoseok fic #hoseok x reader #hoseok au #dark jhope #HUNGER GAMES AU

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jess-rewatches-prodigalson · 3 years

Text

Bad Manners (S2, E5)

My time-stamped thoughts for this episode. As always I reference Malcolm’s mental health. A lot. So if that’s going to be a trigger for you, don’t keep reading.

SPOILERS AHEAD:

0:35 - Martin totally thought John Watkins abducted and killed Ainsley. Mark my words.

0:44 - Holy. Shit. Ainsley is FIVE years old (or younger) here right? A five year old with that much determination?!?! She literally stayed silent in that clock for probably hours......and no one was concerned about this kid when Martin was arrested because...?

1:09 - Anyone else impressed with Malcolm’s aim here? Just me?

1:20 - Gil and Malcolm talking about sleep and murder is so freaking sweet. <3 Honestly, they’re acting like friends instead of co-workers and it warms my cold dead heart.

1:29 - Does Gil become a grumpy old man when he doesn’t get 8 hours sleep? I really want to know now.

1:39 - OMG. Gil pointing at Ainsley here is hilarious. He’s totally acting like some weird mix of a stern pissed off high-school teacher, and a step-dad trying to discipline an unruly teen. hahaha AND MALCOLM’S FACE. Look how done Malcolm is. He looks so so tired, sad, and exasperated.

1:44 - Wow. Girl power. Ainsley has those camera guys bending to her will. I honestly would’ve thought they would just read the situation and turn the camera off themselves.

1:47 - “It’s not a game.” Yikes. I have thoughts about this:

Malcolm is right - it’s not a game.

Malcolm is a bit of a hypocrite for saying that to Ainsley. Although, to his credit even when Malcolm is excited/inappropriately happy about murder it’s always pretty clear that he thinks murder is wrong, and that he has sympathy for the victims and their families.

Ainsley does not have that same sympathy for the victims. That much is clear later in this episode.

Pretty sure the writers are trying to turn Ainsley into a serial killer this season.

2:13 - “You know I like to share these things with my friends.” .....does this mean Malcolm thinks Dani and JT are his friends now? Last I checked (Ep 1x05) Malcolm didn’t have friends. This absolutely melts my heart. <3 I’m honestly so happy that Malcolm considers someone other than Gil to be his friend.

2:18 - “We lost Dani to vice.” .....What is vice? AND WHAT IS THE REAL LIFE REASON THAT DANI WASN’T IN THIS EPISODE?!?

2:19 - Edrisa has a medical degree right? She has to know how dangerous consuming that much caffeine is right? Plus aren’t energy drinks super dangerous if you drink a lot of them (or maybe that’s just what adults in my neighbourhood told kids)?

2:30 - Edrisa SHINES in this episode. She’s so funny and awkward and I just love her.

2:36 - hahaha Gil has adopted the whole team. Look at him throwing the “Dad warning stare” at Edrisa.

3:31 - Why does Edrisa start bouncing around looking upset when Malcolm says, “rejection is a powerful motivator”?!?! Has she recently been broken up with or something? Is this a reference to how she has a crush on Malcolm (who doesn’t reciprocate)? I WANT MORE INFORMATION.

3:47 - TWIZZLERS!!! <3 Damn I love how this tiny detail about Malcolm’s character keeps coming up.

3:55 - Ainsley is on a rampage this episode. She’s so determined ...actually she’s acting a lot like Jessica (think girl in the box bracelet). However, unlike Jessica, Ainsley’s motives aren’t about justice or the safety of her loved ones. Ainsley is chasing personal gain (career) with a side of (a subconscious?) need to be exposed to murder and her father’s twisted world.

4:05 - This whole interaction between Ainsley and Malcolm is really interesting. Ainsley is knowingly manipulating Malcolm to get the answers she wants. We’ve seen her do it in 2x4 and 1x19. She knows her big brother would do anything for her. It makes sense, they’re five years apart and after the trauma they experienced as children Malcolm felt responsible to protect Ainsley. He never wants to disappoint Ainsley. Not a burden he should’ve had to deal with but I digress. PLUS Malcolm looks weary of Ainsley here. He knows what she’s doing. He’s scared that she’s turning to the dark side. But he still gives her the answers because if he doesn’t - that means something has changed. He thinks that would make Ainsley suspicious and then she might remember what happened to Endicott. He’s scared of and for Ainsley.

4:32 - OKAY. I’ll say it. The thing that annoys me the most about this episode is that it suggests that Ainsley was a debutant when in 1x6 AINSLEY TELLS MARTIN SHE WAS NEVER A DEBUTANT. She went to etiquette school - I guess that doesn’t strictly mean she also did debutant balls but it sort of suggests it in the context of this episode? Did she actually graduate from the etiquette school (there was bullying, maybe she was expelled/dropped out similar to Malcolm and Remington?)?

4:59 - “No stabbies” OMG. How is this show not classified as a comedy?!? Istg I laugh harder watching this ‘drama’ then I do watching most of the shows that call themselves ‘comedies’.

5:35 - It’s honestly kind of amazing that Ainsley and Malcolm are as ‘sane’ as they are. They were raised by a stubborn predatory psychopath and a stubborn rich meddling socialite. They had no chance of normalcy. Look at the amount of pleasure Martin is currently getting by throwing his son under the bus with regards to Jessica.

5:45 - “No actually, I cleaned it up.”.....does this have a dual meaning? Did Martin do something to make Malcolm dispose of the body? We already know that Martin has tried some sort of conditioning on Malcolm (remember ‘C’mon boy!’ from 1x14? The stabbing?). What if Martin said some sort of trigger word to control Malcolm and coerced Malcolm into getting rid of the body? What if this isn’t the first time?

6:05 - Ainsley is a sociopath. I’m calling it again. I called it when I first watched Q&A (1x7) because the way she treated Malcolm was more than just selfish/careless. It was cruel and she didn’t feel any remorse for literally broadcasting her brother’s private health details on television. That is messed up. I honestly won’t be shocked if the writers make Ainsley a full blown serial killers (although I’m not sure I want that because I don’t know how Malcolm would remain the main character if the story goes in that direction?).

6:12 - Poor Jessica. I honestly feel really bad for her. Sure, she’s a headstrong alcohol dependant crazy rich woman. She also has a good heart. She’s been dealt a pretty shitty hand when it comes to relationships (minus Gil but she ruined that because she’s a MORON) and now she’s terrified that her own children have become monsters and she blames herself. She definitely hasn’t been a perfect mother but I don’t think she’s to blame for Ainsley and Malcolm’s obsession with murder. If these kids had a different bio dad, they would probably just have a low-key drug problem or some other common rich kid baggage.

6:15 - “You know that’s not how cancer works right?” LOL. hahahaha

6:33 - Martin kind of has a point. There’s no rehab for murder. That’s why he’s been in jail for 20 years and he still wants to kill people. In my opinion, given what we’ve seen of Ainsley’s personality: as soon as she fully remembers that night - she’s gone. She’ll go full serial killer and Jessica and Malcolm will lose her forever.

6:40 - Jessica’s little jazz hand finger twinkle as she spins on her heel and leaves Martin kills me. It’s so extra. It’s so funny. And it’s sooo Jessica.

6:47 - Damn. Martin is pissed. I’m worried. That’s murder-level rage. If he escapes ISTG Martin is going to try and kill Gil. For so many reasons 1) because he hates Gil, 2) it’ll hurt Jessica, and 3) killing Gil will eliminate his ‘Dad’ competition.

6:54 - Edrisa on caffeine is AMAZING.

7:43 - I love Edrisa but her blatant, unreciprocated crush on Malcolm is honestly getting a little creepy.

7:52 - Gil spent all last season drinking out of a Yankee’s mug. Doesn’t that mean he’s a baseball fan? Why doesn’t he know this pitcher guy?

7:56 - hahahaa “Where is JT?” Because obviously JT is the team sports fan.

8:22 - Does Gil get nightmares about cases? He always seems really uncomfortable around the dead bodies.

8:45 - “And suddenly I’m wide awake” SERIOUSLY - is anyone else laughing every 60 seconds when they watch this show? Is my sense of humour just super dark and messed up?

8:54 - YES. The liquorice is BACK.

9:00 - I love Malcolm talking to JT about his obsession with candy. I love how Malcolm doesn’t even hesitate before giving JT an honest answer. Malcolm is acting like JT’s annoying little brother and I am here for it. One thing I did notice though - Malcolm specifically mentions candy+dopamine but doesn’t mention his depression/anxiety. Processed sugar can be a short-term (unhealthy) way to boost your mood. It’s why some people eat their feelings. I really want more backstory about Malcolm with the lollipops and licorice though.

9:19 - “But you didn’t do anything wrong.” Awwww Malcolm is so soft here. I love how much he genuinely cares about JT. <3 I love how JT is comfortable enough with Malcolm to give him an honest answer. <3 THEIR RELATIONSHIP HAS GONE THROUGH SUCH A GLOW UP. <3

9:32 - “Like toy dolls?” hahaha the way Malcolm perked up here. All I could think was “SQUIRREL!” hahaha.

9:41 - Malcolm is doing better than he has been the past few episodes? I mean he’s still suffering and he’s still in a terrible mental state. BUT he also seems happier? IDK maybe he’s just entered the more manic nervous energy stage of his emotions as opposed to the depressed and scared stage.

9:49 - “Deep childhood trauma”. So we’re looking for a debutant killer with childhood trauma who is chasing perfection? Debutant = rich lady culture. Like Ainsley. AND Ainsley went to the same etiquette school as the first two victims. The writer’s wanted us to assume the killer was Ainsley for the first 15 mins of this episode right? I’m not the only one seeing it?

10:04 - “My sister went there too.” ....why is there something super attractive about the way that line was delivered?

10:08 - I’m so done with this absolute tom foolery. Why does the team keep splitting up into two teams - where one team is JUST MALCOLM. The one who is unarmed and technically a civilian?!? This makes no logical sense to me (except for plot).

10:25 - Was Martin just about to say, “Just like the old days”?!? Is Martin referring to Endicott? OR is Martin referring to something that Malcolm’s repressed from his childhood?

10:30 - “I always root for the bad guys.” .....finally some truth from Martin.

10:40 - Soooooo I guess Mr. David doesn’t know? I promise you Mr. David has suspicions though. How could he not?!?!

11:24 - “It was brutal for Ains.” Look at how sad Malcolm is! Ugh. This hurts so much. He clearly loves his sister so so much and what she’s done is slowly killing him. I honestly think that part of the reason Malcolm helped Ainsley dispose of the body is that Malcolm doesn’t want to loose his sister. His sister is one of the only good things he’s always been able to count on. If word gets around that she’s a killer - Malcolm’s fragile world gets shattered a little more and I don’t know if Malcolm can recover mentally from that.

11:36 - “Teasing made her capable of...stuff.” C’MON. There’s no way Mr. David doesn’t know.

11:45 - Sooo is Martin saying that he recognized that Ainsley was a sociopath when she was a small child? Or did she just respond to his (or John Watkins’) grooming much ‘better’ than Malcolm?

11:56 - “Because she’s her mother’s” Okay. So I see the point. I can see that Ainsley is driven and stubborn like Jessica. BUT it feels like Martin is suggesting that Jessica is capable of murder? Which - I honestly don’t think she is. If anything - Malcolm is more like Jessica than Ainsley is.

11:59 - There was a look in Martin’s eyes when he was comparing Ainsley to Jessica that really freaked me out. I can’t figure out why. It makes me wonder if Martin still somehow views Jessica as ‘his possession’ (he refers to her as his wife all the time but I always assumed that was just to get a rise out of people?). Martin’s dream from 2x4 certainly suggests that he still wants Jessica romantically. I honestly think he’s going to try to escape and rekindle the romance with Jess; and it’s going to go very poorly when Jessica rejects him.

12:06 - Preach JT. Preach. This is creepy af.

13:00 - Ugh. Of course this creep has a history of indecent exposure. Now I understand why Gil and JT were hostile with the dude right from the start.

13:12 - Man. People will use the Bible to justify anything. No wonder people hate Christians ( I say this as a practicing Christian).

13:18 - JT is such a good dude. I’m so glad he’s a dad now. <3 He’s going to be such a good one. <3

13:26 - “One phone call and this place will be shut down.” OH SHIT. GIL THAT IS VICIOUS AND I RESPECT THE SHIT OUT OF IT.

13:35 - I soooo thought that dude was going to sprint out of that room.

14:30 - THIS. YES. This is why I have a problem with Ainsley’s enthusiasm for murder vs. Malcolm’s. Ainsley’s enthusiasm is centred on her nee to ‘get the story’. She’s obsessed with forwarding her career and as a result she’s treating crime like a competitive sport. Malcolm’s obsession (while it can border on creepy and reckless) is always centred on his need to find the killer and stop the murders. Malcolm is seeking justice and his heart is in the right place. I can’t say the same for Ainsley.

14:31 - “We’re brother and sister, everything is a competitive sport”.....whoever wrote this doesn’t have a sibling they experienced trauma with as a kid (and as a result was raised by a single parent). Seriously, my dad was abusive he lived with us until I was 10 and my brother was 7. Then my parents got divorced and my mom was a single parent (he didn’t pay child support or see his kids after the divorce). Are my brother and I competitive? Sure sometimes. But the way we grew up forced us to become partners. Annoyed with Mom? Let’s rant about it together. Is he struggling in math? I’ll tutor him in exchange for a Reese cup. Am I struggling at daycare because I have massive social anxiety? He’ll include me in whatever he’s doing so I’m not sitting alone in a corner. My point: siblings who experience trauma together don’t have the typical sibling relationships that are widely televised in North America. There’s a lot less fighting and competition and a lot more teaming up and commiserating.

14:39 - “It. It’s terrible.” - Notice how Ainsley didn’t actually say how it made her feel? She gave the standard “TV response” to a murder “a terrible/horrific/tragedy has occurred”. She doesn’t feel bad that these women are dead. She’s too consumed with getting a story to even stop and let herself feel anything. I’ve been saying it since last season - the way Ainsley shows no regard for other people and their feelings when she’s obsessed with her job is concerning.

14:50 - “Remind me of the people who cut us off after Dad’s arrest.” ...Are you kidding me?!? The whole fandom has been speculating about this since early season one and they’re not going to elaborate on that line?!? I’m going to need some more information about this and it better be in the upcoming episode where Jessica’s younger sister appears.

15:40 - She thinks of her students as family? Sooo what does she think of Ainsley? Wasn’t Ainsley bullied at this school? Did she do anything about it?

16:00 - this is like a ‘weekend/evening school’ right? Kids aren’t living in this house like a boarding school/summer camp?

16:01 - “Mr. Whitly” UGH. This bitch preaches etiquette and she doesn’t even have the common courtesy to call Malcolm by the name with which he introduced himself? Nah. I don’t like her.

16:13 - Ugh. Ainsley, seriously? Why don’t you help your brother solve the case. AND PREVENT MORE MURDERS. Why are you indirectly but purposely obstructing justice?

16:37 - “Of course.” Huh. Do you think Martin might try and manipulate Ainsley into killing Malcolm? Ainsley definitely capable of it. She doesn’t actually seem to care about Malcolm nearly as much as he cares about her.

17:17 - WTF?!? That’s creepy af. How did no one in this show think this assistant was a suspect? She has a super creepy doll that she ‘forgot’ on the floor the middle of a hallway. AND THE DOLL WAS STANDING UP. Not sitting, not dropped carelessly, STANDING UP.

17:30 - Look at Malcolm’s face. He’s definitely going to be having nightmares about that doll.

18:25 - OMG. This was amazing. JT just totally bulldozed his way into catching that dude. Very badass. Also kind of funny (maybe that’s just my messed up sense of humour again?).

18:44 - Ugh. This dude has a thing for dolls. I don’t want to kink shame but - no. no. There’s something really gross about that.

18:48 - I’ve seen some people say that this doll looks like Ainsley and how that’s supposed to be some sort of foreshadowing/symbolism. I kind of see it? I mean the hair colour is similar and if you pause the screen at 18:48 the angle kind of looks like Ainsley? It would be an interesting metaphor though - Ainsley played with dolls as a little girl. John Watkins gave her angel statues. She is Watkins’ and Martin’s doll’ in the sense that she was the object that murders manipulated/groomed.

18:53 - Then again, pause the screen here and there’s something about the facial structure that looks like Dani to me.

19:00 - Jessica lets Ainsley work in the murder office?!? No. No she doesn’t. This is garbage. Jessica would’ve forbade it. Jessica would’ve bordered up this room immediately after Watkins.

19:57 - Poor Jessica. She’s clearly terrified that she’s losing Ainsley and terrified of Ainsley. BUT Jess, sweetie, running to Europe won’t fix this.

20:16 - “She wanted the dolls to look like her students.” AND PEOPLE SEND THEIR CHILDREN TO HER?!? WTF?!? NO. NO. NO. NOT OKAY.

20:31 - HAHA look at Gil’s face when Trevor tells him he can make the ‘perfect woman’. Gil’s like WTF - can I arrest you for thinking you can fabricate a ‘perfect woman’?!!?

21:06 - Malcolm is having so much fun playing with Trevor’s doll head. Look at how excited he is. It’s kind of adorable but his manic energy is showing which is concerning.

21:10 - Why is Trevor giving his doll fancy 1940s(ish) names?

21:31 - Props to LDP. I honestly believed Gil was annoyed with Malcolm for barging in on the interrogation the first time I watched this.

21:42 - “They got a word for everything.” hahaha OMG. This is so reminiscent of a teenager explaining some new tech to their tech-illiterate parents.

22:00 - I can’t tell if Gil feels sorry for this creep or if he just thinks the dude is really gross. Probably a mixture.

23:00 - Oh we’re bringing up the chloroform again. At least Malcolm knows not listen to Martin about this nonsense.

23:25 - “It doesn’t feel fun.” - THIS. This is why I honestly don’t think Malcolm will ever become a serial killer. His guilt complex is just too big.

23:56 - Are. You. Kidding. Me? This is next level. Ainsley is so out of line here. AND SHE SHOWS NO REMORSE. SHE DOESN’T THINK SHE’S DONE ANYTHING WRONG. THIS GIRL HAS GONE DARK SIDE (she was already halfway there).

24:17 - I’m getting papa!Gil vibes when Gil is talking to Ainsley and I want more scenes of them interacting. Seriously, did Gil have a relationship with Ainsley when she was a kid? I MUST KNOW.

24:45 - Ainsley has no conscience. I honestly don’t think Ainsley has a conscience.

25:00 - “Who is that!?” Malcolm is totally acting like he’s Ainsley’s father-figure right now. I’m here for it.

25:22 - SORE LOSERS?!? I’m sorry. What? If you weren’t concerned about Ainsley you damn well should be now. That is seriously messed up. People are dead. This is not a game. Do you know who else thought murder was a game? Martin Whitly.

25:31 - Okay. Ainsley has a point. Malcolm lecturing anyone about being reckless is pretty hypocritical. But at least Malcolm cares about her.

25:54 - Heart. Shattered. Look at how terrified Jessica is. Look at how gentle and reassuring Gil is. UGh. WHY DID SHE BREAK UP WITH HIM??! I mean, I know why I just think she’s a moron for doing it.

26:00 - Poor Gil. He’s so confused and so concerned. The whole Whitly family is acting crazier then usual and he doesn’t know why.

26:11 - “Both you and Malcolm are at an 11 and I’ve never seen Ainsley like that.” FIND YOURSELF A MAN WHO CARES LIKE GIL AND NEVER LET HIM GO. <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 Seriously. The love and concern he shows for this family warms my cold dead heart.

26:16 - “Her father?!” Oh shit. Now Gil knows there’s something BIG happening. Jessica would never run to Martin unless she absolutely had to.

26:19 - annnnd Gil’s also being a prideful man who’s feeling are hurt. “You went to him?” He’s right to be though - the woman he loves went to a serial killer for advice before going to the guy who practically co-parented with her.

26:33 - “I’m here. Whatever you need. I’m here.” <3 <3 Gil is the definition of a good man. <3 I’m in love with it.

26:48 - “You were right on time for me.” ....*snort* subtle Gil (and in front of JT!!)

27:08 - Edrisa is hysterical on caffeine. hahaha. This whole scene is perfect.

27:20 - You know someone is acting manic when Malcolm Bright is concerned about their eccentric behaviour.

27:34 - Annnnnd Tom Payne was a split second from breaking character here. I don’t blame him. hahaha

28:05 - EDRISA flipping and dropping that pencil. HAHAHAHAHAHA

29:10 - “Absolutely not.” hahaha this is funny but also really sweet. Malcolm knows that Edrisa hopped up on caffeine isn’t safe to have near an active killer. Who knows what’ll happen. I wish he’d care that much about his own well being. Looks like calling for backup last episode was a one time thing.

30:37 - I’ll give the writers one thing - Miss Windsor makes a convincing murder suspect.

31:22 - GIL. STANDING. UP. FOR. JT. IS. EVERYTHING. Where is O’Malley’s back up? Oh yeah, they’re not brave enough to defend him.

32:00 - Huh. Bright texted for backup. This is growth. I’m proud of him.

32:15 - YES. This JT arc was handled right. Sure JT could’ve complained. It would’ve been episodes upon episodes of bureaucratic nightmares and injustice. This show isn’t about racism. They showed enough to portray that the system is broken and they had JT act like a responsible adult. It’s not fair that JT had to go through this or that he’ll likely experience something similar to it again. But the fact that JT is acting like a bigger person is perfect. JT will protect his family. Always. That includes Malcolm. So JT avoids putting through a formal complaint because he knows that will take time away from doing his job, from protecting others, from hanging out with his wife and kid. JT’s taking the higher road, it might not be gratifying or fair but I respect the hell out of him for taking it.

32:28 - Gil is so so proud of JT. Look at him. <3 <3

33:40 - Look, Miss Windsor is a bit of a stuck up bitch but she has a good heart. Look at the way she immediately tells Malcolm where Ainsley is when she realizes what’s happening.

34:14 - This confused me during the first watch - Ainsley obviously didn’t drink any tea - so why is she drugged? (obviously I know now).

34:17 - Big brother Malcolm frantically looking for Ainsley is so so sweet. <3

35:42 - The music, the dolls, and Miss Windsor’s speech here. There’s something about this part of the episode that is strangely reminiscent of 5x16 of Criminal Minds.

36:20 - ......does Miss Windsor have some sort of mental illness? She’s talking to herself and ranting erratically. Is this just emotional stress or something deeper?

37:00 - This is why Malcolm’s not a serial killer. Even now- looking at a killer - he’s trying to sympathize with her. He’s trying to understand why. He’s trying to calm her down, diffuse the threat, and get her mental help.

39:00 - Oh yeah. Ainsley was definitely going to kill without remorse. Again. I’ve seen some theories that Ainsley only ever tries to kill to protect Malcolm. I disagree. I think Ainsley’s trying to protect herself. Ainsley is pissed off that this girl tried to drug her and kill her because she thinks Ainsley is wicked. Ainsley was pissed at Endicott for whatever he did to Ainsley before Malcolm got there. I think Ainsley felt threatened and scared so she reacted. I don’t think this has anything to do with protecting Malcolm.

39:41 - Malcolm isn’t a killer. Look. He smells gas but he takes the time to carry an unconscious murderer (who literally just tried to kill his sister) out of the building.

40:00 - The drama. Holy hell. What a weird ending to this case.

40:48 - Who gave Ainsley a police jacket and let her keep it?

41:14 - She almost died and she’s still obsessing over ‘winning’. This is seriously unstable behaviour. Way more concerning than anything Malcolm’s done since 2x1.

41:45 - “My father was a serial killer also.” Anyone else super irritated by that phrasing?!? Just me?!? Something about the ‘also’ feels super wrong to me.

41:53 - Oh sweetie. I’d argue that you are more messed up than Malcolm.

42:06 - Jessica went to see Martin twice in one episode. THIS IS BAD.

42:15 - “Maybe even more so than Malcolm if that’s possible.” Jessica knows her kids. I’m on her side here.

42:20 - Martin is way too happy about Ainsley showing signs of serial killing.

42:30 - Jessica? You married an act. That man never existed. He’s always been a serial killer. You just didn’t know it. He’s manipulative and you were a victim to it.

42:50 - “A partner.” OH THIS IS NOT GOING TO END WELL. ESPECIALLY FOR THE GIL/JESSICA ARC.

Okay....so definitely the weakest episode of the season so far. AND the fact that we got no mention of Tally and/or the baby this episode is a crime.

BUT I’M SO SO SO EXCITED FOR THE NEXT EPISODE. It’s going to be a televised fanfic and I can’t wait.

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letangelliottblaneyfan91258 · 3 years

Text

A/N: Links to Chapter 1-3 posted at bottom of page!

Chapter 4

It had been a few days since Eden left Sids after they raped her. She called out sick from work she couldn't face them. The team was headed out to California and Eden asked if she could fly out and meet the team there. They said that was fine. Eden went out a day early and did some sight seeing. It was nice. The team arrived later that day. She had just gotten finished eating when there was a knock at the door. Eden goes and sees it was Sid.

"Eden please open the door." Sid says.

He had carnations her favorite in his hands and a stuffed Panda bear too. Eden figured she might as well hear him out. She opens the door.

"What Sid?" Eden says.

"I am sorry for what I did to you the other day." Sid says.

"Oh you mean raping me when I said no." Eden replies snarky.

"Yes I am sorry baby. It will never happen again. Kris is sorry too these are from us." Sid says.

"Look let's just let by gones be bygones. I won't say anything about what happened. I won't tell your secret." Eden says.

"Please baby. Think about it. We really do love you." Sid says.

"Okay I will think about it okay." Eden says.

"Good baby. We love you and don't want to loose you." Sid says.

"I will think about it okay. Now I just want to go lie down. I am not feeling well." Eden says.

"Okay feel better." Sid says kissing her softly on the lips.

"Thanks Sid. Goodnight I will see you at practice tomorrow." Eden replies.

"Okay baby." Sid says kissing her head.

Eden took the flowers and Panda and shut the door behind him. She wasn't thinking about anything she was walking out of this and going to be with Chase.

That was when her phone went off. It was Chase.

"Meet me down in the lobby." Chase texts.

"Wait you're here!" Eden texts back.

"Yup got a race here in Cali and then racing Phoenix and Vegas." Chase says.

"Let me change and I'll be right down." Eden says.

She throws on a pair of jeans and a black be brave shirt. She then heads down to the lobby.

Chase was standing there waiting for her. She runs to him.

"Chase." Eden exclaims practically jumping on him.

"Hey princess." Chase says kissing her.

Eden kisses back not caring who was watching.

"I'm so happy you are here." Eden says.

"I am happy too I get too see my girl. Now let's go I have a special date planned just the two of us." Chase says.

They link hands and head out to them rental car. They both get in. Chase takes off towards San Diego.

"Where are we going?" Eden asks.

"You will see." Chase says smiling at her.

45 minutes later they arrive at the zoo.

"The San Diego Zoo!" Eden says excitedly.

'Well I know how much you love animals especially pandas so I figured I needed to bring you." Chase says.

They park. They then head to the entrance. Chase pays for them them. They find out there was a bus called the Kangaroo Bus that would drop them off at various parts of the park. They get on the bus and it takes them to the first part of the zoo. The Australian Outback. Inside there they see the Australian Wander which was full of plants that come from down under, along with Camels, Koalas. Laughing Kookabura's, Tasmanian Devils and Wombats.

It was fun. They got to hold a koala, play with a kangaroo and ride a camel together.

Eden was taking all kinds of pictures.

From there they head into the Lost Forest exhibit,. There they see Bog Garden, Bonabo's , Fern Canyon, Flamingos, Ginger Garden, harpy eagels, Hawaiian pants, Hippo's, Mandrills, Monkey's, Okapi's, orangutans, Otter's and pygmy Hippos pygmy marmosets, Tapirs, terrace lagoon, and Tigers.

"I want a hippo for Christmas is one of my favorite Xmas songs so I love hippos." Eden says.

"They are intriguing animals." Chase says.

They continue on. They were holding hands and acting like a real couple and Eden was loving it. They then get on the Kangaroo bus and head to the nest spot for them. They then do the Panda Canyon, where they see Amur Leopard's, Giant Panda's red pandas and Takins.

"Pandas are my absolute favorite animal in the whole wide world." Eden says.

"I know now come with me." Chase says.

They head behind the habitat where they met a zookeeper. Chase paid extra for them to be able to play with one of the panda's. It was one of the Cubs born not that long ago. Also Eden was adopting it and could name it. Eden was having the time of her life. Chase had them take picture and a video. She ended up naming the bear Chase. Finally they leave.

"Thank you for doing that for me. I love it." Eden says.

"I am glad baby." Chase says.

That was when Eden ran to the trash can and threw up. Chase held her hair back. He also got her ginger Ale.

"Do you want to go home?" Chase asks.

"Nope I'm okay now." Eden says.

They then head to the Africa Rocks where they got to see and play with the penguins.

They head around the zoo seeing more different animals. They saved the best for last where Eden got to see the polar bears another one of her favorites. It was neat to see them out playing. Eden took more pictures. Finally they headed to the gift shop and Eden got a few things. Chase got her a few things as well and they left.

"Thank you Clyde for a much needed fun day." Eden says.

"You are welcome Princes." Chase says.

"Our first official date." Eden says.

"And it's not over yet." Chase says.

They hop in the car and head back towards Los Angeles. Chase heads to Disneyland and parks.

"Disneyland baby?" Eden asks.

"But of course. Have to take my Princess to the happiest place on earth." Chase replies.

"I love you." Eden says.

"I love you more princess." Chase replies kissing her hand.

He then gets out of the car and gets her door. Eden gets out and they head to Disneyland hand in hand. They head inside and stop first at Sleeping Beauty's castle and have someone take a picture of them in front.

They got a few different ones including of one of them kissing. After that they head to start riding rides. They get on Alice and Wonderland, Astro Orbiter, Autopia, Big Thunder Mountain, Buzz Lightyear Astro Blasters, Casey Jr. Circus Train, Chip and Dale's tree house, the Disney Gallery, Disney Railroad, The Disneyland Story presenting Great moments with Mr. Lincoln, Donald's Boat, Enchanted Tiki Room, Finding Nemo Submarine Voyage, Frontierland Shootin' Exposition, Gadget's Go Coaster, Goofy's playhouse, Indiana Jones adventure, It's a small world, Jungle Cruise, King Arthur's Carrousel, Mad Tea Party, Main Street Cinema, The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh, Mark Twain Riverboat, Matterhorn Bobsleds, Mickey's house and meet Mickey, Minnie's house, Mr. Toads Wild Ride, Peter Pan's Flight, Pincchio's Darin Journey, Pirates Lair on Tom Sawyers Island, Pirates of the Caribbean, Roger Rabbits Car Toon Spin, Snow Whites Scary adventure, Space Mountain, Star Tours The Adventure continues, Star wars Launch Bay, Star Wars Path of the Jedi, Storybook land canal boats, Tarzan's treehouse, Dumbo the flying elephant, Haunted Mansion, Main street vehicles, Splash Mountain, Davey Crockett's Explorer canoes, and Sailing Ship Colombia.

"I am hungry." Eden says after they finished riding the rides.

"Me too." Chase replies.

"Let's eat and then we can continue on." Eden says.

"Sounds good.:" Chase says.

They decide to eat at the Carnation Café. They both get burgers and fries and milkshakes. After they eat they head and do a few shows. They do a Star Wars Character Experience and then they do Jedi Training. That was fun they then meet fairy friends at Pixie Hallow and meet the Disney princess at Royal Hall. Chase took a few pictures of Eden. He got a her few things. He figured for Halloween she could be a princess and he would be a race car driver.

They continue on and get on Animation Academy, Fliks Flyers, Francis Ladybug Boggie, Golden Zephyr, Goofy's sky school, Guardians of the Galaxy: Mission Breakout, Heimlich's chew chew train, it's tough to be a bug, Jumpin Jellyfish, King Triton's carousel, The Little Mermaid: Ariel's undersea adventure, Luigi's Rollickin Roadsters, Maters Junkyard Jamboree, Monsters Inc. Mike and Sully to the rescue, Princess Dot Puddle Park, Radiator Springs racers, Red car trolley, Silly Symphony Swings, Soarin around the world, Sorcerers workshop, Toy Story Midway Mania, Tuck and Rolls Drive em buggies, Turtle Talk with Crush, The Bakery Tour, California Screamin, Games of the Boardwalk, Grizzly River run, Mickey's Fun Wheel, Redwood Creek Challenge trail, Frozen at Disneyland resort, and Guardians of the Galaxy: Monsters after dark.

They then head and see Ana and Elsa's Royal Welcome, Frozen Live at Hyperion, Meet Olaf, and Meet the Residents of Radiator Springs in Cars land.

Finally, they head back to the car and head to Universal Studios. They go inside and get on rides. They ride on Harry Potter and the Forbidden journey, The Wizarding World Of Harry Potter, Flight of the Hippogrif, Fast and the Furious Supercharged, King Kong 360, The Walking Dead attraction, Despicable Me Minion Mayhem, Jurassic Park the ride, Transformers The ride, The Simpson Ride, Revenge of the Mummy Ride, Super Silly Fun Land, Sill Swirly Fun Ride, Special Effects show, Water World, Universal's animal actors, and Charter sightings.

They finish everything they wanted to do at the park before heading back to the car.

They then head back to the car and back to the track. Chase had something special planned for them. He had it set up and ready to go.

"What's this?" Eden says seeing a table set up for two.

"Dinner for two baby." Chase says.

"Awww Clyde." Eden says kissing him.

Chase kisses back. He then helps her sit down.

He goes and heats up their food. He had made chicken parmigiana and noodles along with a salad. When it was done he sits it in the table and then takes his seat. They each take a piece of chicken and some noodles. They then add a little bit more sauce to each before sprinkling it with parmesan cheese. They put some salad in their salad bowls and add the dressing. Chase pours them each a glass of wine.

Eden takes a bite of the food and then says

"Oh my god it tastes as good as it smells."

"Thanks. The sauce is my mothers homemade recipe." Chase says.

"Well it's good." Eden says.

They eat and enjoy each others company. Once they finished Eden helped Chase clean up and put the leftovers away and load the dishwasher.

"The flowers are for you." Chase says to her.

"Thank you Clyde. Carnations are my favorite flower and pink is my favorite color." Eden says.

"I know baby." Chase says.

"So wha are we going to watch?" Eden asks.

"Since I know how much you love scary movies I have the Conjuring universe movies ready to go." Chase replies.

"Lead the way." Eden says.

Chase lead her to the game room. They both sit on the couch as Chase turns on the Nun. The movie starts. Not even five minutes into it Chase jumps at a scary part.

"Damn." Chase says.

"You really hate scary movies don't you?" Eden asks.

"Yes I do. But I will watch them because I know you like them." Chase says.

"Well I will keep you safe Clyde." Eden says.

"I know." Chase says as another scary part happens.

They movie went on. Eden felt him get a little tense and knew he was scared so she leaned in a little closer trying to comfort him. Chase puts his arm around her pulling her closer to him. She leaned her head on his shoulder.

It got to the part where the priest was buried A alive. Chase started to shake. That was one of his phobias being trapped someplace not being able to get out. He was claustrophobic.

"Oh Chase." Eden says leaning in placing a soft kiss on his lips.

She would do anything at that moment to make him feel better. She never experienced a man so vulnerable.

Chase kisses back putting his hands on each side of her cheeks. Eden parts her lips slightly. Chase deepens the kiss exploring her mouth with his tongue.

"Mmm." Chase moans deep in his throat.

"Mmm." Eden moans too.

"God Princess ." Chase says once they both come up for air.

"You are a good kisser Clyde." Eden says.

"So are you Princess." Chase replies.

She looks deep into his eyes and sees a bunch of emotion swirling in them.

Chase leans in kissing her again pulling her all but into his lap. His hands roam up the back of her shirt setting her skin on fire.

"God Clyde take me to bed." Eden moans when he let her up for air again.

"God baby are you sure?" Chase asks.

"God yes." Eden says she wanted him so bad.

Chase picks her up carrying her into his bedroom. He sits her on her feet closing the door. Once the door was closed Eden pushes him up against it.

"Eden." Chase moans.

"I want you and I am going to take you." Eden says.

"I want you too." Chade says.

She starts to lift his shirt up placing soft kisses along his chest as she does.

"Fuck." Chase moans.

Once she gets the shirt up and and over his she throws it to the floor.

"You have the most amazing body Clyde." Eden says running her nails lightly down his chest to the band of his jeans.

"Thanks Princess oh god." Chase moans as she pops open the button and pulls the zipper down running her finger up his happy trail.

She works the jeans down his hips kissing his stomach with light fluttery kisses as she does. Chase just moans.

She then works his boxer briefs down as well freeing his rock hard cock. Eden licks her lips. She places soft kisses on his stomach again before running her tongue down his happy trail. She places soft kisses on each thigh before slowly taking his cock into her mouth.

"Fuck Eden." Chase moans running his fingers through her hair.

She sucks him in nice and slow running her tongue along the underside of his shaft. She looks up locking eyes with him. She keeps sucking him in and out of her mouth slowly.

"Fuck Eden that's it suck my dick baby." Chase moans gently pulling her hair as he starts to thrust.

Eden kept going slowly torturing him bringing him to the verge of cumming.

"God baby I am going to cum." Chase moans he didn't know what she wanted.

Eden gently starts to play with his balls never taking her eyes off him.

"Princess oh god." Chase moans as he cums hard down her throat.

Eden swallows every drop before slowly licking him clean. She then slowly works her way back up his body pulling him in for a kiss. She explores every inch of his mouth with her tongue letting him taste himself on her lips and tongue. Chase slowly backs her towards the bed. He breaks the kiss long enough to pull her shirt over her head tossing it.

"Jesus Eden that bra." Chase moans seeing it.

He pulls one strap down kissing her shoulder as he does. Then kisses the other as he pulls that strap down. He sucks and licks the tops of each breast peaking out from the cup. He pulls the cups down taking one in his mouth running a circle around her nipple with his tongue before sucking on it gently nibbling on it bringing it to a peak.

"Clyde." Eden moans running her fingers in his hair.

Chase moves to the other breast doing the same thing. He slowly unclasps the bra pulling it off tossing it aside as well. He then kisses softly down her stomach to the band of her jeans.

He uses his teeth to pop open the button lightly nibbling on her belly as he slowly inches them down her hips and legs. Eden steps out of them kicking off her shoes.

"God baby those panties. God so wet." Chase moans running his mouth over her pussy smelling her juices.

He then slowly works them down over her hips and down her legs. Eden kicks them off. He then slowly kisses his way up her legs placing a kiss on each thigh. He blows cool breath across her mound as she slowly spreads her legs. He runs his tongue up and down her slit before pushing inside starting to fuck her with his tongue.

Not long after he started Eden gently pulls his hair pulling him away from her.

"Fuck me Clyde." Eden says all but begging him.

"God okay baby." Chase says kissing his way up her body. He picks her up kissing her letting her taste her on his lips and tongue and gently lays her down on the bed.

"God please Clyde I need you inside me now." Eden moans.

"God baby." Chase moans as he gently pushes inside her.

"God yes." Eden moans as he starts to thrust gently at first.

He wanted to go slow letting her adjust to his size. She was so tight and wet.

"Jesus Eden you feel so good. Like a glove." Chase moans.

"God fuck me Clyde hard and fast." Eden moans digging her nails into his back.

Chase moves a little harder and faster. Eden wraps her legs around his waist letting him go deeper inside her.

"Eden oh god." Chase moans going even harder.

"Clyde god that's it." Eden moans as he stretched her even further.

She throws her head back arching into him. It felt so good.

"God baby I am not going to last." Chase moans

"Cum baby let me feel it." Eden monas.

"Eden sweet Eden." Chase moans looking deep into her eyes as he cums hard deep inside her.

"Clyde oh god." Eden moans shuttering as her orgasm rushes through her.

She cums with him feeling him coat her insides. She just moans as her body shutters from the pleasure.

Chase kisses her gently on the lips and then the jaw and neck as they ride it out.

"God Clyde again I need you again." Eden moans.

She just wanted to feel that good again and not think about anything.

"Okay Eden but this time it will be nice and slow." Chase says.

"Please." Eden begs.

Chase starts to move again inside her taking it nice and slow.

"Eden god." Chase moans loving being inside her.

"Clyde god." Eden moans as he slowly builds her up.

"So close." Eden moans.

"Cum baby." Chase moans.

"Clyde." Eden moans as she cums.

"That's it baby milk my release." Chase moans as he cums again inside her.

They make love a few more times before Eden's eyelashes started to flutter. Chase gets up.

"Where are you going?" Eden asks sleepily.

"Shhh baby I will be back." Chase says kissing her softly on the lips.

He goes into the bathroom grabbing a wash cloth wetting it with warm water. He then comes over and gently wipes her down cleaning her.

He goes and tosses the rag in the hamper and then climbs into bed beside her. She curls up to him laying her head on his chest. Chase pulls the blanket up over them kissing her head as they both fall asleep.

**************************

The next morning Eden and Chase woke up when the alarm went off.

"Good morning baby:" Chase says.

"Good morning, oh god." Eden says getting up and running to the bathroom.

She made it just in time to empty her stomach in the toilet. Chase was right behind her. She got her everything up. Chase then picks her up gently and carries her back to bed.

"Sorry baby." Eden says.

"For what?" Chase asks.

"Getting sick." Eden replies.

"It's okay." Chase replies.

"I need to go back. I have to change before I head to practice." Eden replies.

"Yeah I know. I am glad I was able to see you." Chase says.

"Me too I will try and make the race on Sunday." Eden adds.

Chase smiles. He gives her a few shirts from his collection. They then head to the car and head back to Eden's hotel.

"I will see you later princess. I love you." Chase says.

"I will see you later Clyde. I love you too." Eden replies.

They share a few more kisses not wanting to part ways. But finally Eden heads inside and up to her room. She showered and got dressed and then heads down to the bus. Once everyone was on they head to the arena. Eden goes and gets the exam room set up in case they would need it for anything. That was when she felt arms snake around her waist.

"Hey baby, I missed you last night." Sid says.

"Hi Sid. Sorry I was so tired. Still getting used to the time change." Eden replies lying.

She didn't know what he would do if he knew she was with Chase. She was scared of him. It sucked cus she had a contract and had to work with the Penguins until the end of the 2021 season. Even though she wanted to quit.

"I know it can take effect on you but you will get used to it." Sid says.

"I know. Don't you have practice?" Eden asks.

" I do but I wanted to know if you were doing anything after?" Sid asks.

"No I don't. Sunday I am going to the NASCAR race before the game that night. But nothing today." Eden replies.

"Okay maybe I can come to your room, we can order room service and watch movies." Sid says.

"Okay." Eden says.

"Good see you then." Sid replies.

"Is Kris coming too?" Eden asks.

"Nope just me this time." Sid says.

"Okay." Eden replies.

Sid kisses her and leaves to attend practice. Eden grabs a little something from the snack bar and goes and watches practice. Halfway through Kris took a high stick to the face and there was blood.

"I got it." Eden says.

Kris comes down the runway and into the exam room. Eden follows him in. Kris was sitting on the table.

"Damn that hurt like a son of a bitch." Kris says.

"Sorry Kris." Eden says dabbing the blood away with a towel.

"It's okay. Is it bad?" Kris asks.

"Yes going to need stitches but shouldn't keep you out of the game tomorrow." Eden says.

"Good." Kris says.

Eden stitches him up. Kris puts his hand over hers.

"Thank you. Sorry for the other day Eden. Are you okay?" Kris asks.

"Yeah I'm okay. And your welcome it's my job." Eden says.

"I know. Im still thankful for you." Kris says.

"I know. I don't know what's going to happen between us but I promise I won't tell anyone about you and Sid. I just don't think I can do this. It took me to moving away and being away from him to realize how much I love Chase." Eden says.

"I know I can tell. Look if you want out that is fine. I know you won't tell anyone about me and Sid but I don't know if Sid will let you go." Kris says.

"I know." Eden says.

"Did you ever love us?" Kris asks.

"I loved you Kris you never hurt me. Sid in the other hand." Eden says looking down.

"I'm sorry he hurt you Eden." Kris says lifting her head up.

He leans in and kisses her. Eden kisses back.

"God." Eden moans as she pulls away.

"Go lock the door." Kris says.

Eden goes and locks the door. She comes back over and climbs into his lap.

"God." Eden moans as he shreds her panties.

"I like skirts." Kris says.

"God." Eden moans as Kris pushes up into her.

"Ride me pretty girl. You know you want to." Kris says.

"God Kris." Eden moans as she starts to move up and down.

"That's it pretty girl." Kris says grabbing her hips.

They needed to be faster. Kris took control of their movements. Eden bit her arm throwing her head back to keep from screaming out. Kris nips and sucks her neck as they move.

"Eden fuck." Kris calls out as he cums hard deep inside of her.

"Kris. "Eden moans out as she cums with him.

They ride it out and Kris picks her up off of him. He stands up and fixes himself.

Kris then kisses her head before walking out the door. Eden collected herself. She then cleans up the exam room and prepared it from the game tomorrow. She then heads out and gets on the bus.

Once all the boys were on board they all head back to the hotel. Eden goes up to her room. She changes into her new Chase Elliott shirt and a pair of lounge pants. She wasn't feeling the greatest. She was laying down when there was a knock at her door. She gets up and opens it. Sid was there with room service and flowers.

"Come in." Eden says letting him in.

"Thanks." Sid says kissing her cheek.

Eden shuts the door.

"What did you bring?" Eden asks.

"Chicken noodle soup and ginger ale. Because I know you said you weren't feeling good." Sid says.

"I am not." Eden replies.

"I am sorry. Well let's eat and then we can relax and watch something on Netflix or something." Sid says.

Eden nods her head yes. So far it was going okay and she wasn't afraid. This was the Sid she started dating. They ate the soup and Eden nibbled the saltines. She sipped the ginger ale. Finally they laid in bed and Eden turned on Netflix. She turned on Sweet Home Alabama one of her favorite movies. She started to think about Chase. This movie was the story of their lives. Sid started to kiss her. Eden kisses back closing her eyes. As they were making out Sid runs his hands down her body. He runs them down her pants and under wear rubbing her pussy before sticking a finger in.

"Hmm nice and wet for me pretty girl." Sid says.

"Yes." Eden moans. She was pretending it was Chase.

"Want me to fuck you pretty girl?" Sid asks.

"Please." Eden begs.

Sid slides her pants and panties off followed by his jeans and boxer briefs. He then hovers over her running his tip along her entrance.

"Soaking for daddy." Sid moans.

"God don't tease." Eden begs.

Sid pushes into her and starts to move thrusting hard and fast.

"Fuck baby." Sid moans as she moves with him.

She wrapped her legs around his waist letting him go deeper.

"God." Eden moans digging her nails into his back.

She still had her eyes closed pretending it was Chase fucking her.

"That's it pretty girl milk my cock baby get ready to take my cum." Sid moans.

"GOd." Eden moans she was almost there.

"Fuck Eden god." Sid moans as he cums hard pumping her pussy full of his cum.

"Clyde oh god Clyde." Eden calls out as she cums too.

"What the fuck did you just call me?" Sid shouts slapping her.

Eden's eyes flashed open and she realized that by her fantasizing about Chase she called out his name.

"Umm." Eden says.

"Did you call me Clyde? Were you thinking about another man while I was fucking you." Sid screams at her.

Eden was so scared she didn't know what to say.

"Answer me you ungrateful ass whore." Sid screams.

"Yes I am so disgusted by you and how you treat me that in order for me to even attempt to have sex I have to think about Chase so I can get off." Eden screams out pushing him off of her.

She gets up off the bed. She was going to hide in the bathroom or something. She had her cell phone.

"You fucking whore. Don't you ever push me again or I will rip your hair out and choke you with it." Sid yells grabbing her hair pulling her back to him.

"Ow you are hurting me." Eden says.

"You think I fucking care. I hope it hurts. Remeber I am the only guy besides Kris who can cum in your sweet pussy. We are the only ones who can fuck you." Sid says.

"Fuck off Sid. I want out of this. I can't stand you. I fucking hate you. Get out." Eden screams turning around wailing out on him.

"You want to hit me bitch. I am going to show you." Sid says.

He picks her up throwing her back into the mirror glass shattering. He bashes her head against it not caring that it busted her head open. He then throws her down onto the floor throwing the mirror down on top of her covering her in glass.

"I will kill you before I ever let you leave." Sid says.

"Please I need help." Eden cries out.

"Fuck that bleed for all I care. If I can't have you no one will." Sid says as he kicks her hard.

Eden whimpers. Sid then leaves the room door slamming behind him. Eden still had her cell phone. It took everything in her to dial his number.

"Hey Princess." Chase says answering on the first ring.

"Chase help. I am hurt." Eden says.

"Eden? Where are you?" Chase asks panicked.

"Hotel Chase. Hurry." Eden says before she blacked out.

"Hang tight princess. I am coming to get you." Chase says.

You ever love somebody so much

You can barely breathe, when you're with them, you meet

And neither one of you, even know what hit 'em

Got that warm fuzzy feeling, yeah them chills, used to get 'em

Now you're getting fucking sick, of looking at 'em

You swore you've never hit 'em, never do nothing to hurt 'em

Now you're in each other's face,

Spewing venom in your words, when you spit 'em

You push, pull each other's hair, scratch, claw, bit 'em

Throw 'em down, pin 'em, so lost in the moments, when you're in 'em

It's the rage that took over it controls you both

So they say it's best, to go your separate ways

Guess that they don't know ya 'cause today, that was yesterday

Yesterday is over, it's a different day

Sound like broken records, playin' over, but you promised her

Next time you'll show restraint

You don't get another chance

Life is no Nintendo game, but you lied again

Now you get to watch her leave

Out the window, guess that's why they call it window pane

Just gonna stand there and watch me burn

But that's alright, because I like the way it hurts

Just gonna stand there and hear me cry

But that's alright, because I love the way you lie

I love the way you lie

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