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godslino · 1 year ago

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IN BLOOM | jisung first date series. second chance lovers.

pairing: jisung x fem!reader word count: 13.2k genre: childhood friends au, angst, fluff, songwriter!jisung, florist!reader warnings: swearing, minor character death, grief/loss (nothing to do with any of the members!) summary: it's february. the tulips are in bloom. jisung is back.

a/n: *taps mic* hello?? is this thing on?? oh good. yes. hi. hello! it's been a while, as most of you can tell. thank you all SO MUCH for sticking around. if you've been reading my asks you'll know that march and april were rough months for me personally. shout out to my anons and mutuals who kept my spirits high and made my days brighter. uhhh, this was originally supposed to be a stand alone fic but i figured hey, what the hell, and made it into jisung's first date chapter. it's pretty heavy stuff. lots of feelings, lots of love. i hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it! again, thank you so much for waiting for me. i'll be back soon with more updates! all the love <3

also thank you kenzie for being such a light during all of this. i hope all my screaming in your messages was worth it!

“All of these had to be pulled.” Hyunjin huffs, dropping a few crates just past the doorway.

“Again?” you ask, hands on your hips as you stare at yet another wasted supply. “I don’t understand, they sold so well last year.”

Hyunjin gives you a sad smile. “It’ll pick up eventually, don’t worry. I mean the holidays just finished and business usually slows down in the months after anyways.”

He’s being sincere, you know that. But there’s a part of you that also knows it’s a lot more than just the usual ebb and flow of sales. He’s being nice for your sake.

“Maybe we could try coming up with other ideas?” he suggests, because Hyunjin is nothing if not kind. Always willing, always finding a way.

He moves past you to grab a fresh pair of gloves. The ones he’s wearing are dirty, pollen-stained and ripped at the edges.

“You’ve always been really good at basket arrangements. We could try to make some for Valentine's Day. Different sizes, maybe? The big ones will probably do well for online orders since they’re more optimal for things like office deliveries and stuff like that.”

You hum in approval. “True. I mean, I was kind of worried we would have to skip out on deliveries this year since we don’t have the manpower to handle all of that, but I think Jeongin’s been looking to pick up hours around here again. He said something about his program giving them a month of independent study, so he’ll be home for a bit.” you say, scribbling down a reminder in your notebook. “I could ask him to help with driving the truck in his free time?”

Hyunjin lights up�� he always does when Jeongin is mentioned.

It’s been a lot quieter ever since he left for college. There were so many tears and so many hugs that were met with countless 'you guys are dramatic's in return. But it’s hard to not feel sad when people leave town; when they decide the borders lined with apple trees and rice fields aren’t enough to stop their dreams from blooming into more than what’s capable of being pursued here.

That, unsurprisingly, is something you know all too well.

“Can’t believe he’s driving.” Hyunjin laments as he wipes his floral scissors with a rag. “I used to spend my days changing his diapers and spoon feeding him redbulls– but now? Driving? My baby is all grown up.” he fake sniffles. “By the way, I’m gonna take my fifteen after I’m done snipping these tulips.”

You snort, bending down to take the crates of wilted flowers to the back for disposal. Hyunjin moves to help but you shake him off.

“Sounds good. Also, don’t let Innie hear you say that. I’m about a thousand percent sure he has the strength needed to throw you into the dumpster with one arm now.”

“My baby would never do that to me!” Hyunjin calls out as you round the corner, bumping open the back door with your hip.

February brings a lot of rain in Jeju. Today is no different; fat drops landing on your head as soon as you stumble out into the alley behind the shop. Footsteps heavy on wet brick, you curse under your breath as you run as fast as you can to the dumpster.

There’s still a few supply boxes from yesterday’s shipment laying around. You meant to bring them in, but you were so exhausted that it slipped your mind while you struggled to make sure everything inside the shop was figured out.

Scrambling, you haul them in one by one, shoes squeaking against the floor as you alternate in and out, soggy cardboard pressed against the front of your apron.

Hyunjin’s on break. A necessary one at that. You can’t bother him, especially not when he’s done enough by taking on more responsibility both as a physical worker and a newly actualized business partner recently. A few stacks of boxes and wet hair seem like a fair trade off for what he’s had to sacrifice in the past year now.

“Idiot,” you mumble, cursing yourself for carelessness. Your slip ups have been more frequent lately, evident in the way you constantly forget things and can’t seem to push away the haziness clouding your mind.

If it weren’t for the timing of it all, you’d blame it on the weather. The gloominess. The overcast skies probably have some sort of hand in your lack of clarity. Shrouded.

But it’s February. And in Jeju— it rains.

By the time you make it back inside, you’re drenched.

“You look like you just got dunked in a pool.”

You frown, ringing your hair out into the trash bin by the door. It’ll definitely take time to dry off, both your hair and your clothes are soaked through.

Hyunjin watches with an amused look, arms crossed as he leans his back against the counter.

“Might as well have. It’s insane out there.” you sigh. “How was your break?”

You look up to find that his face has gone unreadable.

“Yeah, about that…” Hyunjin trails off, voice suddenly smaller than before.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah it’s just–” Hyunjin chews at his bottom lip.

You push past him into the supply room to switch out your apron just as he says, “Do you mind if I leave a little early today?”

You scoff, turning to face him. “Hwang Hyunjin,” you scold, lips twitching when he visibly startles at your tone, “You don’t have to ask me that. We’re partners now, remember? We run this place.”

He shifts on his feet, still unsure.

“Besides,” you huff, tying a knot behind your back, “We were friends way before that, too. You don’t have to be all proper with me. Of course you can leave early. It’s slow today, I can take care of it.”

Hyunjin sighs after contemplating for a second. “Are you sure you’ll be okay, though?”

When he stares at you for a moment too long, you know the real reason for his hesitation. It makes something twist deep in your gut.

Guilt, maybe, amongst other things.

“Of course.” you shrug, doing your best to seem nonchalant.

Hyunjin’s ability to read people is kind of intense, a little scary at times. You happen to be one of his favorite subjects in that regard.

“Have fun. Tell Minah I said hi.”

He pales, sputtering around words as he struggles to say something. It’s cute, his plump lips opening and closing, eyes wild.

“I’m not going to see her! I’m–it’s just a movie! How did you—God, you’re so annoying. I should’ve made you trim the tulips. Hah!”

You giggle. “It’s funny that you think I wouldn’t know, especially with the way you love to actually make yourself look busy whenever she stops by to say hi.”

“I am busy.” he mumbles, looking away. “I just emphasize it a lot more when she’s here.”

“Sure,” you roll your eyes, “Let’s go with that.”

He whines a couple more times, trails after you around the shop and laughs when you swat him away with a rolled up newspaper that’s used for wrapping vases.

It’s loud. Easy. Hyunjin is a gentle reminder that normalcy still exists in your day to day, even if it’s hard to find.

When he finally decides to leave, he lingers for a moment, triple checks that you’ll be okay. You roll your eyes for what feels like the millionth time today, but deep down you’re grateful.

“Love you,” he says, one foot out the door. “Call me if you need anything.”

You shake your head, ignoring him. “Love you too.”

And then he’s gone, a skip in his step as he heads down the sidewalk, leaving you with nothing but freshly-trimmed tulips and the sound of rain.

“Herb snips, shears, tape…” you mumble, scanning the supply shelf.

There’s not much to do in-shop right now. Almost all the arrangements have been tended to by Hyunjin already, his specialty being his keen eye. That’s why he handles the appeal of the shop, leaving you to figure out all the logistics. Learning it all was easier said than done.

In reality, it was never your intention to take over the shop at all.

“When I die,” your grandma would always say, ignoring the way you groaned and begged her to stop bringing it up, “Sell this place. Use the money for something worthwhile. A trip to Greece, maybe?”

“Nana,” you would scold, glaring at her where she stood next to you, trimming a batch of roses.

Wrinkled hands that still held all the skill of youth. Fingers moving at a speed others could only ever dream of having– you included.

Your grandma handled flowers with the same amount of care she did everything else. It’s no wonder that when they grew they would lean in her direction, drawn to her like they would be the sun.

“I’m not selling this place. It’s too special, too important. A vacation only lasts so long, Nana. This is forever.”

She would smile, turn petals over in her hand. Sometimes the marigolds would match the glow in her eyes, a testament to the belief you harbored as a child that she had the ability to sprout blossoms from her fingertips.

“The one thing you shouldn’t do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.”

You wish you hadn’t been so hard headed. Wish that you would’ve believed her, taken the time to listen, cherished the moment a little bit longer instead of relying on the promise of tomorrow.

I’m sorry for your loss.

Your grandmother was a wonderful woman.

She’ll be with you in your heart, forever.

Oh, what a lie forever is.

The shop stays empty for the rest of the day. There were a few passersby, all of whom simply stopped to scan the arrangements along the windows before giving a polite nod and carrying on their way.

Realistically, the shop has no problem with attracting customers. It’s a sight to behold: mid-floor to ceiling windows with various displays, hanging baskets of winding greenery, countless arrangements that fill the shelves and add a pop of color, and a wide assortment of flowers for each season.

The real issue lies in your inability to sell. Most people regard the place as being good for nothing more than window shopping and the usual photo-op.

Business has slowed since your Grandma passed; since you took over as the sole owner and were suddenly face to face with the task of making decisions in the shop’s best interest– both integrity wise and from a business standpoint.

“I know, I know,” you say around the pen cap between your teeth, “You used to be the brains around here, not me. I’m not creative enough for all of this, you know? No matter how much I try to be.”

You look up from where your notebook lays open, dozens of scribbles for arrangement ideas and planning. The picture on the wall stares at you, unmoving, eyes as bright as marigolds.

“Don’t give me that look.”

She stares. A gaze that holds all the answers while also saying nothing at all.

“Ugh.” you groan, leaning your palms on the desk.

You allow your head to hang forward, defeated, exhaustion flooding your bones.

Just as you’re about to speak again, to complain about yet another thing that probably has her rolling around in her grave, the bell at the front counter dings.

The clock on the desk reads 6:55pm, five minutes until close. You hadn’t even heard anyone come in.

“Be right there!” you call out, rushing to grab your apron from where you’d thrown it on one of the chairs.

In your haste, the box of seed packets you’d been inventorying goes tumbling to the floor.

“Fuck,” you mutter, bending down to pick everything up. One more thing to add to the list today.

Off-kilter. Disoriented. Exhausted.

You sniffle a few times, blinking against the sting behind your eyes as you stand up to put the box back in its place.

One deep breath, a shake of your shoulders. Just enough to chase it all away until later.

“Sorry about that,” you say cheerily, pushing past the hanging beads that separate the front of the shop from the back. “How can I help you?”

There’s a stranger, his back turned, attention focused on a batch of tulips. Freshly cut. White, blue, purple.

You realize, belatedly, that you’d forgotten to grab your apron in your haste to clean up the seed packets. Another slip up. Nana always prided herself in her apron, wore it like a badge of honor, raised you to do the same.

Just as you spin around to grab it, the stranger says, “It’s okay. I just, um, I wanted to say hi.”

You freeze. There’s a long moment where his voice rings loud in your ears, reverberates against the walls of your brain until it travels through your blood, the feeling like wildfire in your veins until it settles deep in the pit of your stomach.

Slowly, you turn, heart clamoring in your chest, threatening to stop altogether as soon as you come face to face with the one person you never thought you’d see again.

Because there, at the front of the store, is Jisung.

Jisung, with wide eyes and parted lips. Jisung, with hair that still curls at the ends and falls in shags around his face. Jisung, broader, more actualized, now grown into his features but still undeniably soft around the edges. Jisung, with thick framed glasses pushed up his nose and silver hoops dangling from his ears.

A stranger. But undoubtedly Jisung.

“You look…nice.” he says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly with his free hand.

Three words is all it takes. Ice turns to fire. The blood that had drained from your face returns with the blaze of a thousand suns, anger burning your throat.

You reach forward, grab the remote for the neon Open sign and click the power button. Jisung watches in confusion.

“The shop is closed.” you manage on a shaky breath.

Jisung sighs, something heavy. “Listen, I’m—”

“The shop–” you try again, louder, “–is closed.”

Jisung stares. His eyes are still the same velvety brown; big and round and just as you remember.

There was once a time where the sight of Jisung in your Grandma’s shop made your heart sing. A soft tune, the thrum of a thousand harps, a song only for him.

His heart-shaped smile as he helped her hammer some of the shelves onto the wall. The sound of his laughter whenever you’d enter a sneezing fit from accidentally rubbing your face with a gloved hand. His rosy cheeks, burnt from the wind whipping past his face as he ran on foot to make sure you were okay the one time an angry customer smashed a vase on the floor and you called him crying.

But now, seeing him here, a stranger in a body you once knew like the back of your hand— it feels wrong.

“I…” he trails off, registering the way your fists are clenched at your sides.

“Okay,” he resigns, licking his lips. “I, uh– have a good night.”

He gives you one last look, bottom lip pulled tight between his teeth, and then slips out the door. You watch his retreating figure through the glass panel, dark gray skies muting the sound of your rattling heart.

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is back.

And in Jeju– it rains.

There’s an apple tree in the middle of town where Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time.

Off the corner, a few minutes down the road from where your houses stand a mere five hundred feet away from one another.

Your grandparents were farmers. Your grandma started her floral business a few years before you were born, a dream she always had that your grandpa urged her to pursue once he decided to sell the animals to a younger, more capable couple that could take care of them.

Jisung’s parents, new residents on the island, looking to settle down and start a family.

That’s how it happens. Yours and Jisung’s story, two authors of the same book, destined since the start.

Jisung was born on the same night your mother left you at your grandparents’ doorstep. One note, an apology, is all you’ve ever known about her. Your grandma never cared to indulge you. You’re glad in a way. She provided more than enough love to make sure you never felt an absence in her wake.

The townspeople used to say you and Jisung were soulmates. Something about the heavens knowing he would need a friend, hence why you were delivered that night. From that moment on, the two of you were inseparable.

Attached at the hip, you and Jisung grew up together. First steps, first birthdays, firsts for everything under the sun.

Jisung was there in the morning to walk with you to school and he was there at night when the two of you tucked into bed, sleepovers a regular occurrence, both of you counting the pale green stick-on stars dotting his ceiling until you fell asleep.

Jisung was always around. He held your hand and walked with you to the nurse’s office the first time you got stung by a bee. He wiped your eyes when the boy you liked told you he only ever saw you as a friend, your first rejection. He sat with you under the stars the night your grandpa died, your face tucked into his neck as you stained the collar of his shirt with tears until you were too tired to cry. In the years that followed, he took care of you and your grandma like the two of you were his own.

Jisung, for lack of a better word, was your first forever.

“You could come with me, you know.”

Under the stars, real ones that time, Jisung had turned to you and offered the world.

The air was cold. The apple tree was bare.

“It’ll be fun. We’ll be together, we’ll experience new things. I can do music and you can study all that history stuff you like to learn about. You know, nerdy things.”

“They’re not nerdy things, Ji. Don’t you know everything we have now is because of what’s happened before us?” you’d asked. “Doesn’t it make you wonder? Learning about the past helps us better understand the present, and ultimately the future.”

Jisung had hummed softly, an agreement. “I don’t care about the future, though.” he’d said. “I care about right now. You, me, this.”

When you turned to look at him, he propped himself up on one elbow and stared down at you from above as the moon casted a halo around his head.

“I love you,” he whispered, “And I want you to come with me.”

Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the ambition to make it his own.

You, with all your hopes stuffed tight into a suitcase and chained to a boulder, thrown into the ocean. Sinking and sinking until it hit the bottom.

“I love you too,” you whispered back.

Images of marigolds flashed behind your eyes when you closed them, a tear rolling down your cheek. Jisung’s mouth was soft when he kissed it away, salt on his lips. Burning.

“But I can’t.” you choked.

Under the apple tree, Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time. He promised that the distance would be no match for him, that he would traverse oceans to find his way back. He promised forever.

It was February. The tulips were in bloom. Jisung left to pursue his dreams with a guitar on his back and your heart in his hands. Your understanding of forever was shot at point blank. The bullet passed clean through you.

And in Jeju– it rained.

“I think you should talk to him.”

The sun is out today. Perfect weather for another field harvest. The distributor had called you early in the morning to ask if you’d be willing to accept a drop off even though it’s the weekend. You’d agreed, calling in your most reliable help for the job.

“And I think you’re not helping.” you huff, snipping the head off another hyacinth.

“Agreed,” Hyunjin parrots from beside you, currently in the middle of putting together an arrangement, “This guy sounds like a total dick.”

Chan sighs from behind the two of you, his knees knocking against the legs of the desk when he swivels back and forth in the chair.

Besides Hyunjin and Jeongin, both of whom moved into town after you’d already graduated, and of course, Jisung– Chan is your oldest friend.

Chan was also a neighbor of yours. Three years older than you and Jisung, he was the one who acted as a role model for the two of you when growing up. Nowadays he helps his parents run the largest orange grove on the island during the day and DJs one of the clubs in the tourism hub at night.

“Jisung’s not a dick, he’s just–”

“An asshole.” you finish, smirking when Hyunjin cackles.

Chan sighs. Again. “Yeah okay, I’ll give you that one.”

“Listen, I know I’ve never met him, but isn’t it weird that he just, like, showed up?” Hyunjin asks, setting down his scissors. You continue trimming the hyacinths, listening halfheartedly.

“I mean, think about it. Dude disappears to pursue music, right? He’s gone for what– three years?”

“Four.” you correct.

“God, even worse.” he grimaces.

“But yeah, okay, four years. And then boom! He just strolls in through the front door without so much as a word during the time he was gone? No letters, no phone calls, not even a damn visit. Nothing! All so he can pop up and go ‘oh, you look nice’? Come on.” he scoffs, crossing his arms.

You wince, caught off guard because you’ve never really heard it phrased as bluntly as Hyunjin put it just then. It’s no surprise that he’s annoyed, having only just heard the full story thirty minutes ago. He’d been shocked, partly because you never told him and also because he just couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Okay, yes, he was wrong for that. But isn’t part of you even just the least bit curious as to why?”

You pause mid-snip, mulling Chan’s words over in your head.

The most frustrating part about it all is that you are curious. You wish you weren’t, though. Not when you’ve spent the past four years trying to convince yourself that you don’t need to know what Jisung’s been up to, don’t need to know if he’s been okay since he clearly held no concern for you in that regard anyways.

“What?” you ask when you realize that both boys are staring at you.

“Well?” Hyunjin pushes. “Are you?”

You shrug. “No, not really.”

There’s a total of five seconds that pass before Hyunjin is stomping over and hauling Chan up out of his chair, pushing him towards the front door as he protests.

“Out! Out, out, out, we have important business matters to discuss.”

“But we were supposed to get lunch—!”

“We’re taking a rain check!” Hyunjin fights back, shoving him out of the shop before he has a chance to answer. He drops the shade to cover the glass, Chan’s sad figure left alone on the other side.

You gape at him. “What was that for?”

Hyunjin scoffs. “You think you’re convincing? Think again.”

He hops up on to the counter and gestures for you to do the same. When you do, he pulls you closer, grabs your hand in his, and pushes your head down until it’s resting on his shoulder.

“Tell me the truth now,” he says, soft. “I know there’s more to it.”

Hyunjin’s warm to the touch. The heat seeps through the fabric of his shirt, igniting the skin of your cheek until you feel like you’re standing too close to the sun. A star. Hyunjin is a light in your tunnel.

“I am curious,” you start, “About him, I mean. I’ve– I don’t know. It’s been so long. I tried to pretend I didn’t care when I saw him, but the minute I looked into his eyes it was like I was eighteen again. Eighteen and happy and looking at someone that I always thought would be there, you know?”

Hyunjin hums but doesn’t say anything. He squeezes your hand once, a signal to keep going.

“I’m scared, though. Part of me doesn’t want to know.”

Hyunjin takes a deep breath. “What are you scared of?”

Through the gaps in the beads you can see into your office, the picture of your Grandma hanging on the wall. She stares at you, unblinking.

“What if he tells me that it’s true?” you ask, lifting your head to look up at him. “What if he says that I was right, that he didn’t care? That he left and didn’t want to call because it no longer mattered to him? That he loves his life there and only came back to clear his own conscience?”

“Oh honey,” Hyunjin soothes, pulling you into his chest. You hadn’t realized you were crying, that the anger and fear had bubbled over until there were tears falling down your cheeks, wetting the fabric of Hyunjin’s sweater.

He lets you cry for a while. It’s nothing new; Hyunjin has seen you break down countless times. He’s been there through the worst of it, held your hand even in the aftermath. He’s picked you up off the floor more times than you can count, has grounded you when you felt like the world was gonna open up beneath you and swallow you whole. Salt of the earth, returning you to its core.

Once you’ve quieted into nothing more than shallow breaths and a few scattered hiccups, Hyunjin speaks again.

“Can you be honest with me?”

You nod, the hair stuck to your cheek with tears rubbing against his shoulder.

“Do you love him?”

It nearly knocks the wind out of you. This concept, so foreign to you now, shoved to the back of your mind to make room for the things that matter most. Hospital visits, labor cuts, wage increases— none of it left any room for love, let alone the thought of someone else. Especially someone as all-consuming as Jisung.

Slowly, you inhale, breath shaking on the exhale. Hyunjin squeezes your hand to remind you that he’s there.

“I don’t think I ever stopped, Hyune.”

The silence stretches thin. The realization is dizzying. Years of suppressed emotions, of telling yourself and everyone around you that it wasn’t a big deal. The sad eyes of the townspeople whenever they’d see you sitting beneath the apple tree. The gentle touch of your grandma’s hand when she’d find you on the front steps alone, staring at the stars. The soft hum of the radio in the shop, set to a playlist of all the songs he’s written, the only reminder that somewhere out there he was doing well.

The final crack in the dam, its water pushing until it gives way.

“Then you owe it to yourself,” Hyunjin says. “You owe it to your heart to get an answer. Free yourself from this pain, love. Don’t let yourself suffer forever.”

Forever. That word again. No matter how many times you’ve tried to escape it, it always comes back.

“It’s gonna hurt.” he sighs, tightening his grip when you sniffle. “It’s gonna hurt so fucking bad, babe. But you can take it. You’ve got people who love you enough to stand in front of you and soften the blow from time to time. But you’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

He hops down from the counter and moves to stand in front of you, right between your legs. Placing both hands on your shoulders, he pushes until you’re sitting with your back straight and lifts your chin.

“You deserve an answer.” he says, with conviction this time. “Okay?”

He lets his thumb swipe beneath your eyes, smiles softly. Unconditional— that’s what he is. Hyunjin burns brighter than any star in your sky, the heat wrapping its arms around you like it’s too scared to let go, to watch you freeze and die out like so many others.

“I don’t deserve you, though.” you say, laughing wetly when he rolls his eyes.

“Shut up,” he chuckles, pulling you in for a hug, “You deserve everything and more.”

When Jisung comes into the shop two days later, you’re ready for it.

Chan had talked to him. No surprise, really, not when he’s been letting him crash in his spare room ever since he figured out that he was holed up in one of the hotels out in the tourism hub.

If there’s one thing about Chan, it’s that he’d rip the shirt off his back to clothe anyone in need. Housing a friend is nothing, especially when that friend is Jisung.

“I don’t know how much of a consolation this is,” he’d said nervously, watching as you regarded him with an expectant look, “But he’s pretty cut up about you not wanting to see him. Which, I know, is stupid. He is the one who fucked up. But I just– I don’t know. I’ve never seen him like this, I guess.”

It’s not a consolation, not really. Knowing that Jisung is struggling is far from anything you want to hear.

Sure, there’s anger present. Anyone would be stupid to not feel the least bit frustrated with what’s happened. Years lost, time stripped away. But you’ve long since come to terms with it, the anger turning to sadness in the meantime.

“Also, he leaves tomorrow.” Chan smiled sadly. “He really wants to talk to you before then.”

Hyunjin left early again today to give the two of you space. Not before making a show of his own though, threatening to incite violence with his arms that are supposedly ‘shredded’ from years of lifting boxes filled with petunias.

The shop is slow again, not many sales nor a lot of foot traffic. Usually when the sun is out there’s more to do; people to see, smiles to give. But there’s nothing, just the chirping of birds and the sound of cars rolling by.

Maybe the world knows that this is what you need. The calm before the storm.

Five minutes until close. You’ve spent most of the day pacing back and forth. Waiting. Anticipating.

Chan had said Jisung planned on stopping by, trying again. You’d told him that was okay, and his eyes lit up. Too much hope, maybe, that something might come of this.

You’re seated in the back office, staring at marigold colored irises when the front door opens. You hear it this time, ears fine tuned, waiting.

Slowly, you stand, make your way to the front. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you pull back the beaded curtain and Jisung’s figure comes into view.

He looks the same as he did the other day: curled hair, thick glasses, parted lips. His sweater, fluffy and striped, hangs off of his shoulders in a way that boxes off his tapered waist, one that you know is hidden beneath all the layers. The sleeves are way too long judging by the way it curls over his fingers.

“Hi.” he breathes out, watching as you step into full view.

You blink. “Hi, Jisung.”

His name feels weird on your tongue. Bitter. It’s been years since you uttered it, forbidding yourself from the luxury out of fear that it would make his absence more real. Talking about him in the past tense always scared you off before you could even get the chance.

“How– How’ve you been?” he chews on the inside of his lip.

You want to scold him, tell him to stop the habit just like you always would in the past. He’d make a joke then, tell you to kiss him so that he had something else to do instead. You would laugh, feign disgust, but in the back of your mind you’d wanted it more than anything.

You’d waited for it, the day you could kiss him without warning and melt into his touch as he kissed you back. Another stupid bet on forever; the belief that you had all the time in the world for things to get to that point.

“I’ve been better.” you say, taking a deep breath. “What about you?”

Good, you think. He’s been good. He looks good. He doesn’t need this place.

“Me too.” he says instead. “I’ve been better.”

You don’t know what to say to that. Silence fills the room, heavy on both your chests. The anticipation feels like it might kill you before anything else does.

“I’m sorry that–”

“Is that all you came here to say?” you cut him off.

“What?” he asks, confused. “No, I– no.”

“What, then? What is it you want to say, Jisung?” your voice is firm. He winces when his name leaves your mouth. “Because, honestly, I’ve waited all this time to hear literally anything from you, and if all that comes out of this is that you’ve ‘been better’ I might actually lose my fucking mind.”

The words tumble out faster than you intend. You can’t help it, not with the way anxiety has been bubbling over in your chest since the moment you woke up this morning. You could barely sleep last night, not when you were playing out every possible scenario in your head, the anticipation of it all making your sheets feel scratchy against your skin and the lumps in your pillow more discernible.

“No, no, of course I wouldn’t do that.” he says quickly. “It's just that I didn’t know where to start. I don’t know how much you’ll allow me to say, what the boundary is here. I didn’t want to just barge in and demand you listen to me. You don’t owe me that. You don’t owe me anything. Not after what I did.”

What I did, his voice rings loud in your ears. He’s aware of it, of the pain he caused.

He takes a step forward, and then another, again and again until he’s right up against the front counter, an arm’s length away.

Your breath catches then, when you see him up close for the first time in four years, see the way he’s grown and changed with your own eyes.

Stubble dotting his chin, laugh lines around his mouth, the dip and curve of the bow above his lips that you always loved. Brown eyes, soil and stardust.

“Tell me what your conditions are,” he says quietly, “And I’ll give you every explanation I have.”

The sincerity on his face is blinding. Your stomach twists at the thought of hearing what he has to say, that same fear brewing in the pit of it. You take a deep breath, feel the phantom ghost of a hand squeezing yours and a crescent moon eye smile.

“I waited four years for you.” you say.

“I know.”

“I trusted that you’d be back. That you would keep in touch during the time you were gone.”

“I–” his voice cracks. “I know.”

“You lied to me.”

Jisung tips his head back then. Swallows down a lump in his throat. Blinks rapidly at the ceiling, veins of ivy crawling along the expanse of it.

“I know.”

“So you owe me everything. I deserve that. I deserve answers.”

When he brings his head down to look at you, it’s unreadable. A mix of emotions that you aren’t familiar enough with anymore to decipher. Fear, guilt, sorrow. Hope, too. Maybe.

You stare at him head on, fully letting your eyes meet for the first time in what feels like an eternity. He holds your gaze, unwavering. Determined. The sight makes your heart clench.

“Okay,” he says after a beat of silence. “Okay. I can do that.”

Despite the ever-growing mountain of things to address, you decide that the first thing you want to hear from Jisung is about his time in Seoul.

You’re only human, after all.

Best friends from the start– you can’t stop yourself from wondering what life has been like for him. Jisung’s always been good at storytelling, animated in his features and gestures to the point that you’d be rolling around and clutching your stomach from laughter. It’s one of the things you missed the most, just talking and being present in one another’s lives.

The two of you end up at one of the diners down the road. The owners, an elderly couple, coo as soon as they catch sight of you.

“My flower girl,” the old lady, Mrs. Kim, greets.

“Mrs. Kim,” you beam, moving in for a hug. When you pull away, Jisung is behind you, hands clasped behind his back and feet together like he has his tail between his legs.

“Halmeoni,” you say, gesturing at him, “Do you remember Jisungie?”

His eyes go wide at the nickname, and you try to ignore the heat creeping up your neck, avoiding his gaze and instead watching as Mrs. Kim blinks in surprise.

“Oh! Oh my goodness, our Jisungie? Honey! Honey, look, Jisung is here! Oh you crazy boy,” she scolds, rushing forward to hit his shoulder and pull him in for a hug. “Where have you been? It’s been ages!”

Jisung lets out an oof! as her body slams into him, all of his anxiousness dissolving into laughter as he hugs her back.

“Hi Mrs. Kim, how have you been?”

“Me?” she asks, pulling him away to hold at arm’s length, “Nevermind about me! I’m old! How have you been?”

Good, you think again, a mimic of earlier. Jisungs eyes flit over to yours for the smallest of moments before he answers.

“Better,” he says. “I’m doing better.”

Once both Mr. and Mrs. Kim are done doting over the both of you, they seat you by the window.

The island is always beautiful on sunny days: trees swaying, golden rays painting the rooftops in hues of pink and orange, the indigo shimmer of the ocean off in the distance.

“So,” you say, catching Jisung’s attention, “Tell me about Seoul.”

He hums. “It’s busy. Stinks. Lots of people.”

“Dream come true, yeah?” you joke, taking a sip of your water.

Jisung chuckles. “You could say that, I guess.”

“I mean, it was yours.”

“It was.” he sighs, looking down at the table. “I don’t know. It’s nice. I met good people, made even better connections. I live in this one bedroom studio apartment just outside of Itaewon, so I’m close to where all the foreigners hang out. I’ve learned a lot, gained a lot of inspiration for my music.”

You follow along, staring at him intently. His mouth, still heart-shaped, twitches when he catches you in the act.

You clear your throat, glancing away. “Yeah, I’ve– uh, I’ve heard some of your songs.”

He raises his eyebrows, almost like he hadn’t expected you to say that. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I hear them on the radio sometimes.” A lie. “It usually takes me a second to realize that it’s you.” Another lie. “But they’re good, you’re doing well.”

Pink dusts the tops of Jisung’s cheeks as he turns back to the window, clearing his throat.

He looks younger like this, like he’s still the same boy who would sit across from you all those years ago. Cherry-stained lips and a smile so bright it put the sun to shame.

He talks a bit more about his music, about how he’s with a good company that gives him creative freedom and enough support to pursue more if he desires.

His eyes light up when he tells you about his studio, a small room on the fifth floor of a building in the middle of the city where he does all of his writing. It’s equipped with an entire soundboard, full of instruments that he says he’s been able to get signed by artists that come in and out. Most notably, his guitar, the same one he left with.

Slowly, like a flower blossoming, petals opening one by one, you feel yourself falling back into step with him.

Everything is so familiar: the curve of his smile, the tilt in his voice when he gets excited, the rumble of laughter when he recounts an embarrassing run-in with an A-list celebrity in the company’s cafeteria. He shares stories that fill your heart as the two of you fill your stomachs.

But with the ease comes something more, something you recognize as longing. You hadn’t realized how much you longed to be there through this part of his life, how you wished you’d been the one to answer a video call as he showed off his apartment the first day he moved in, his company badge when it was newly issued, every moment of happiness that you’d been absent for just as much as he was absent for yours.

He seems to share the same sentiment then, when he sets down his fork and stares at his empty plate.

“You run the shop now,” he says, “How’s that been?”

You purse your lips, nodding your head slowly. You knew this conversation would happen, that it was coming.

“It’s good, I guess. Been almost a year now since, uh, it was left to me.” you shrug. “I’m not alone though, Hyunjin is a big help. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

Jisung noticeably bristles. Eyebrows pulled together, staring more intently at a crumb on his plate. It looks like there’s a lot he wants to say, like he can’t find the words to say them.

So, naturally, you do it for him.

“I assume Chan told you so I wouldn’t have to, by the way.”

He looks up then, as if he wasn’t expecting you to address the very obvious elephant in the room.

“He did, yes.” Jisung says after a while. His voice is quiet, gentle, like he’s walking on eggshells. “I– I didn’t know how to bring it up. I assume you’ve heard it all already but– I really, really am sorry to hear about Nana.”

The way her name sounds coming out of his mouth turns your mind to static.

Suddenly you’re in the hospital again, monitors beeping, hands as soft as petals cradled in your own and wishing that you could bury your face in a familiar neck as you cried and watched the marigolds wilt.

“I don’t need an apology for that.” you croak, blinking back tears. Jisung is somewhere in your periphery, your vision blurry around the edges.

“It wasn’t sad. Her life, I mean. It was full. Of love. Of light. She left this place happy. That’s what she told me, at least.”

You take a deep breath. “So don’t be sorry about it.”

Jisung sniffles, and the sound shoots straight through your chest.

“I know. I just– I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I should’ve been. I had no idea that–”

“Nobody did, Jisung. Don’t punish yourself for that.”

He sees it then, when you finally meet his eyes, the acceptance. You’ve come to terms with things a long time ago, have fought tooth and nail to come out on the other side of all the guilt and resentment and grief alive. Scathed, but alive nonetheless.

“You’re right.” he sighs, wiping at his eyes quickly. “She’d probably yell at me for saying that.”

You laugh, suddenly, the noise startling him. Jisung looks at you like you’re crazy.

“I think she has a lot more to yell at you for than being sorry that she died.”

The bluntness punches a chuckle out of him, and you giggle at the thought.

Your grandmother was always such an outspoken person. She always said what was on her mind, speaking it loud. There’s no doubt that if she was here she’d be berating Jisung, smacking him upside the head before pulling him into a hug and cooking his favorite meal. Tough love, but still, love.

“She would’ve loved to be able to see you.” you say once your laughter dies out, the air a bit lighter between the two of you. “She always wondered if you’d grow your hair out without her around to nag you about keeping it short.”

He reaches up to run a hand through his curls, the strands falling around his face in a way that has your heart stammering in your chest.

“Well, clearly I don’t know how to listen.”

“No, you don’t.”

Jisung smiles softly. “Maybe I’ll cut it now. You know, since I’m here. And because I know she’d want me to.”

You watch him carefully, searching his eyes. For what, you don’t know. All that’s in them are stars.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “You’re here.”

By the time the two of you leave the diner, stomachs full and enough bags of extra side dishes hanging off of your arms to last you at least two weeks, courtesy of Mrs. Kim, the sun is almost fully set.

The ocean is calm, the evening breeze just barely brushing the surface of the tide. Jisung walks in step with you down the street, one side of his face cast in a glow from the sun’s fading rays.

“Do you think you’d maybe want to stop by the arcade that Old Man Park runs? Just for a little?”

You snort. “Why? So I can embarrass you?”

“Hey!” he puts a hand on his chest, offended. “I’ll have you know that I let you win all those times.”

“How do you let someone win after spending hours practicing while I worked at the shop?”

“I was being nice!”

“Uh huh.”

“Don’t believe me?” he grins. You try not to look, afraid of how bad your blood pressure might spike from the sight.

“I’ll have you know that I’m one of the best Kart Rider players in the PC Bang scene back in Seoul.”

“Jisung,” you scold, “That’s a computer game. These are coin-ops. There’s way more skill needed.”

“No there isn’t!”

He knocks his shoulder against yours, tucking his chin to his chest to hide his smile when you try to fight back.

It’s easy. Nice. There’s a soft melody echoing in the dust-covered chambers of your heart. You still know all the chords.

Old Man Park’s arcade is a few doors down from the shop. You stop there to drop off the food, spare a glance in the mirror hanging in your office to fix your hair.

Your grandma’s picture stares at you from the other wall, eyes bright.

“Love you,” you say, kissing the skin of your fingertips and pressing it gently against the frame.

Jisung is toeing at a few rocks on the sidewalk when you walk back out. He doesn’t see you, too busy with his eyes casted down at the concrete, hands shoved into his pockets.

It’s still hard to believe that he’s here. Flesh and bone. For a long time it felt like he was nothing but a distant dream, someone who only existed in the memories that you kept locked deep within your heart, the key somewhere on the streets of Seoul.

“Ready?” you ask.

He looks up, his glasses moving when his cheeks round into a smile.

Something passes across his face– a myriad of emotions in just a fraction of a second. Hesitantly, he holds out his hand. Long, delicate fingers.

You stare at it, swallowing roughly around the butterfly wings flapping inside your throat.

The one thing you shouldn’t do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.

Forever isn’t promised. But even then, there are things you know for sure:

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is here. Living, breathing, in the flesh.

So you take his hand, watch as relief floods his features, and let yourself feel.

The wind in your hair, the calluses on Jisung’s palms, and the warmth radiating out of the smile that threatens to split his face into two.

And with that certainty, the two of you start walking. A silent agreement to focus on the now.

You. Him. This.

“God, I can’t believe everything is only one coin.”

You laugh, watching as the multi-colored lights cast a glow on Jisung’s face.

“Stop acting like you don’t remember this place.”

“I don’t!” he argues, smiling. “We stopped coming here, what, in middle school? Once Chan hyung started driving? We would always ask him to take us to the other one out in the big town!”

Chan’s first car was an old Camry with leather seats and enough room for the three of you to pile into after school. Used, but still with enough juice to satisfy three young kids who felt like they were on top of the world.

You used to sit in the back, the wind whipping your hair every which way while yours and Jisung’s hands lay side by side in the middle seat, pinkies brushing but neither of you willing to take it further.

“Oh, shit!” Jisung gasps, letting go of your hand as he runs up to the space invaders machine.

“Here we go,” you sigh, following after him. He’s like a kid in a candy store, face filled with innocent wonder and joy.

“Aren’t there, like, I don’t know– things better than this in Seoul?” you ask as he shoves a coin into the game.

Jisung turns to look at you with a devilish grin. “Obviously,” he says, “But I can’t beat anyone’s high score over there. Here though? Ha! This place is ancient. I can finally be at the top of the leaderboard in something.”

“We’ll see about that.” you mumble, the noise of the game booting up drowning you out.

Jisung sticks his tongue out when he focuses really hard on things. It’s cute, the way the end of it sits between his lips, spit-slick and parted just a little bit.

He’s glowing, probably because of the lights, hues of red and green and blue flashing across his face. But then again, Jisung has always shined brighter than anything.

The game beeps to signal that he has one life left. He grunts a few times, his fingers tapping the buttons madly as his other hand handles the joystick in a frenzy of movements.

When it ends, he groans, throws his hands up in defeat..

You shake your own head knowingly, watching his eyes bug out of their sockets as soon as the leaderboard appears on the screen, the 8-bit letters blinking at him.

“You’re joking.” he laughs in disbelief, turning to stare at you. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

There, on the screen, is your name. The highest score. Jeongin and Hyunjin’s names sit just below you, respectively.

“What was that again about finally being able to be at the top?” you mock him, smirking.

“Since when did you get good at this?”

You shrug. “Had to find something to do in my free time.”

“No,” he says, rolling up his sleeves. “Nuh-uh. No way. This is not happening. I will beat you.” he holds out his hand for another coin, to which you roll your eyes and place one in his palm.

“You might as well give up now. We’ll be here all night.”

“In your dreams.” he scoffs, assuming his position as another round loads onto the screen.

Jisung has always been competitive. It’s one of his more hidden characteristics.

It persists still, you realize, as you watch him burn through the styrofoam cup of coins that Old Man Park had given the two of you. Free of charge for old time’s sake.

Fort-five minutes. All he’s managed to do is bump Hyunjin down to fourth.

“Ugh!” he groans, kicking the machine lightly with his foot.

“Look at you throwing a tantrum.”

“I’m not throwing a tantrum.” he pouts. You raise an eyebrow.

“Okay fine. I’m throwing a tantrum.”

“Thought so.”

“Can you blame me?” he asks. “This is, like, our first date. And I’m sucking. Hard.”

“Our–” you stop, eyes wide. Jisung mimics you, almost like he didn’t mean to say what he did.

Heat rushes to your cheeks. Your mind goes blank. But the world doesn’t end. Time keeps moving. Jisung is still here.

“I didn’t–”

“I like the sound of that.” you say quickly. “Of this being our first date, I mean.’

He smiles. Slow and sweet like molasses. Blinding.

“And the fact that you suck.”

The moment is shattered, his resulting whine echoing throughout the arcade.

“Come on you big baby,” you laugh, grabbing his hand. “I know a game you can beat me at.”

He lets himself be pulled, pretending that he’s upset, but you can see the smile tugging at his lips when you lace your fingers together.

The feeling is still new, this ease you have with him. The wounds you sported all those years are still healing, some more fresh than others. But with each laugh that comes out of Jisung’s mouth and shared glance, every note that your heart sings, you can feel them beginning to fade. A balm to soothe the burn.

The Pac-Man game is situated in the back corner of the arcade, right next to the jukebox. It used to be your favorite, because Jisung would always use his own coins to play songs for you while you tried to score higher than twenty-five thousand points.

When you get there, he frowns. “The only game you think I can beat you at is Pac-Man?”

“I don’t think,” you say, grabbing a coin before shoving the cup into his chest. “I know.”

The game boots up instantly, and you smile softly to yourself when Jisung moves wordlessly behind you, slips a coin into the jukebox.

“Play something good, Jisungie.”

He freezes. Out of the corner of your eye you watch him stare at you for a long moment. And then he smiles. Stardust.

“You got it.”

In a matter of seconds, Lovers In A Dangerous Time by Bruce Cockburn rings throughout the arcade, the speakers on the ceiling fighting past the static.

An old song. The same one your grandparents would dance to in the mornings, eggs on the stove and love in the air.

Your grandma used to say it was written for them, because when they fell in love the war was at its peak and she didn’t know if he’d ever come home.

After he passed, she still played it, except those times it was Jisung who twirled her around and painted a smile on her face as you watched from the same spot you grew up in. Always there.

Jisung, Jisung, Jisung.

When the game starts, you try your best. It’s hard. You’ve always been terrible at anything involving quick decisions. Focusing on everything at once isn’t easy for you, that much is still true.

“Shit.” you mumble, the top right corner of the screen reading ten thousand points as the ghosts run into you.

Jisung lets out a low whistle. “Harsh.”

“You wanna go back to space invaders and waste the last of our money?” you raise an eyebrow.

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. Go ahead.” he says, holding the cup out for you to take another coin.

You try a couple more times, failing each and every one. You can tell that Jisung is growing more and more amused with every attempt, and the smugness radiating off of him is starting to rub you the wrong way.

“If you’re so good,” you say after a particularly sad attempt, turning to glare at him. Jisung has his lips pulled tight to stop himself from laughing. “Then why don’t you try?”

He chuckles then. “I’d rather help you, if you’ll let me.”

“How are you supposed to do that? We only have one coin left.”

Jisung doesn’t say anything. He puts the cup down, the last coin held between his fingers. You watch as he slips it into the machine, move to get out of his way once he’s done, but he stops you by grabbing your hand and spinning you back around, his fingers placed over yours on the joystick.

With your back flush against his front, caged in by his arms on either side, Jisung takes a deep breath.

“This okay?” he asks right next to your ear, the curls on the side of his head brushing your cheek when he leans down to get a better look at the screen.

Warm. He’s so warm. The material of his sweater only worsens the heat, and the faint scent of vanilla makes your head swim.

It’s more than okay. Great, even. It’s Jisung. Everything and more.

“Yeah,” you say, letting him control your hands as he flicks the joystick. “It’s okay.”

The hair against your cheek moves when he smiles. “Good.” he says, and then hits the start button.

The game begins but you’re barely processing what’s happening, too aware of the feeling of his body pressed against yours.

A firm chest, different from what’s observable on the outside, what with the fluffiness of his sweater and soft features. His arms too, encasing you, the bulge and flex of his biceps every time he moves.

It’s all so intoxicating, so much so that you don’t even realize you’ve beaten the highest score in the system by the time he loses his last life.

“What?” you blink. “What the hell?!”

You laugh, spinning to face Jisung who’s grinning from ear to ear. In your excitement, you jump, flinging your arms around his neck. He’s surprised, but catches you nonetheless, circling his arms around your waist.

“Holy shit how’d you do that!” you squeal while he swings you around, feet off the ground.

“Magic, I guess.” he chuckles.

The closeness of his voice brings you crashing back down, suddenly aware of what position you’re both in. You pull back quickly, clear your throat, and watch as his face falls from the loss of contact.

It’s been a long time since you hugged Jisung. The thought transports you to that day four years ago, standing under the apple tree, the future uncertain. Forever promised.

Things are different now.

“Sorry,” he backtracks. “I didn’t– um, I wasn’t trying to–”

You cut him off by throwing yourself at him for a second time. Intentional. Breathless. Tired of running and acting like it’s not the thing you want most in the entire world.

Jisung doesn’t react until he feels your face against the skin of his neck. On instinct, he hugs tight, hands around your waist, breathing in the smell of your hair.

“Hi.” you whisper against him.

One word. Simple. However the weight of it sends a chill down his spine. It feels like home.

He tightens his hold. A silent understanding. The two of you never had much of a need for words anyways.

“Hi.” he whispers back.

The apple tree is much bigger now.

Long, thick branches, a wide trunk, a slight tilt in its shape.

It’s bare. The season is long gone. But it’s okay, because it means that the view of the stars isn’t blocked when you and Jisung lay beneath it.

It’s the same but it isn’t. There’s gaps– periods of time where the two of you grew separately. There are moments and memories tucked away that neither of you know about, whole lives to discover.

But even so, it feels right. His arm wrapped around you, your head on his chest. The stars and the moon. You and Jisung.

It’s nice. Perfect, even. But there’s a conversation that needs to be had. One that can’t be put off any longer.

“Ji.”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

Jisung shifts beneath you, tightening his hold. The grass is damp. Neither of you care, too caught up in each other to stress about whether or not it’ll stain.

“Of course.”

“Am I ever gonna see you again?”

He takes a deep breath. “Yes.”

“You said that last time.”

“I know.”

“So what makes this different?” you ask, sitting up. He watches you carefully, eyes trained on every movement like he’s scared you’ll get up and run away.

When he realizes you’re waiting for an answer, he sits up too, pulls his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around his legs.

He doesn’t say anything, just wordlessly reaches into his pocket. Silently, he hands whatever he grabbed to you. A guitar pick.

It’s white, a marbled design. Golden flecks infused into the lines. There, on the front, is a singular marigold. When you flip it over, you’re met with a tulip.

“Do you remember that one time, when you called me crying at midnight because Nana told you that she didn’t know if she’d be able to afford school in the city?”

You nod silently, still turning the guitar pick over in your hand.

It was one of those nights where the rain was relentless. Monsoon season always tagged on to the tail end of the school year, bringing with it a more intense gloominess than usual.

You’d been angry. Stressed. Irritated that other kids at school were making plans to go to the mainland for college and you were stuck helping your grandmother trim foliage and wrap vases in newspaper.

“You told me that you couldn’t do it anymore.” Jisung whispered, staring up at the sky. “That you were tired of being here. That you needed to get out.”

You remember. Jisung had walked through the rain to show up at your window. Had climbed in with muddy shoes and sat on the floor of your room with you until the downpour stopped and your tears dried.

“And I said that I would make it happen, that I would invent a way to live amongst the stars so you could be as far from here as possible.”

“So what?” you ask, looking at him. “Did you finally do it, then? Is that why you came back?”

“Don’t be like that.”

“No, Jisung, I’m gonna fucking be like that.” you scoff, rising to your feet.

There’s a fire in your veins, stoked until the embers are burning hot against your throat. Too good to be true. You should’ve known that there was no explanation left for him to give.

Jisung scrambles to his feet. “It wasn’t like I wanted to–”

“Oh like hell you did.” you say, turning to face him. “Four years, Jisung. I waited four years and you just– you come back and decide to tell me about some make-believe bullshit to save yourself and feel less guilty about the fact that you left.”

“It wasn’t make-believe to me,” he argues. “It was real. Everything I said was real. I left and I tried for years to make something of myself so I could come back here and get you.”

“Oh so it’s my fault? I made you leave, is that it?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“So then say something else!” you yell. The stars rumble, threatening to fall out of the sky. “Say something else, then, Jisung. Why didn’t you call? Huh?”

“Because I–” he stops, licks his lips. “God. Fuck. I couldn’t face you if I had nothing to show for myself, okay? It wasn’t fair to you for me to leave you behind just so I could fail.”

“Ha!” you laugh, running a hand through your hair in disbelief. “So you decided to go radio silent instead? Decided to not only leave me alone but let me suffer and wonder about where you were because that’s so much better than telling me that you were struggling, right? Great choice, Jisung. Really.”

He blinks a few times, watching as you pace back and forth in the grass.

Anger bubbles deep in your gut. This whole time, he knew. It was a conscious decision. Jisung deliberately didn’t contact you because he chose not to.

“Did you ever even love me?”

The words tumble out before you can stop them. Jisung’s entire body goes rigid, his face falling and eyes hardening within a fraction of a second.

“Watch what you say.” he says, his voice low in his chest.

“I wouldn’t have to if you’d just be honest.”

“I’m trying.” he pleads. His eyes are glossy. Big and round behind his glasses. Illuminated by the moon.

“I fucked up, okay? I prioritized myself and the way I felt over you and fucked everything up. But I tried. I tried so fucking hard. And I’m sorry it took me so long but I wanted– no– I needed to make sure that I had everything figured out before I came back. I promised I would.”

“No, Jisung, you promised me that–”

“I’m not talking about you.” he says then, taking a deep breath. “You weren’t the only one I made promises to back then.”

Before you have a chance to speak, Jisung says, “I promised her. I told her I’d get you out of here. That I’d give you a life that you deserved, because she knew she couldn’t.”

You drop to your knees when the first sob hits, the force of it racking your body so hard you feel like you’re drowning. Jisung catches you on the fall, holds you up, lets you bury your face into his neck like he had so many times before.

“She told me you believed in forever. She wanted me to give that to you. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Jisung lets you cry. He holds you through the storm, your wails as loud as thunder and tears as heavy as rain. Four years in the making; the sky and the earth colliding until the dirt and layers of sediment give way to the molten core that’s been hiding beneath the surface all along.

Pain. Grief. All of it pent up and leading to this moment.

“You should’ve told me.” you cry, beating a fist into Jisung’s chest. “You idiot. You fucking idiot. You should’ve told me.”

Jisung pulls you in closer, takes each hit as long as it means that it’ll soften the blow on your heart. He whispers apologies in your ear, runs a hand through your hair.

When it quiets again, the worst of the storm gone, he shifts so that your head is in his lap, his legs crossed and tucked beneath him. A few stray tears wet the fabric of his jeans, your eyes focused on the field of flowers across the street.

“I won’t ask you to come with me.” he says after a long while, when your breathing has evened out. “I know that things are different. You have a life here that you’ve made for yourself, responsibilities to bear as well.”

He pauses to push a few strands of hair out of your face. His fingers are gentle against the skin of your cheek.

“But I promise it’ll be different. I spent too long away from you, was too selfish for my own good. I won’t disappear again. I’ll call every day. I’ll visit. You’ll get every part of me that I kept away from you all this time, and I’ll get every part of you in return.”

Your heart thrums. The thought of having what you’ve wanted for so long. Of having Jisung.

“And when you’re ready, when you feel like you can’t do it anymore, there’ll be a place for you.”

His voice is firm. Confident. More sure than he’s ever sounded before in his life.

When you turn to face him, he’s already staring back. Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the offer to make it yours.

Under the apple tree, Jisung leans down and kisses you for the first time. Twenty four years in the making, soft and slow, his lips a perfect fit against yours. A starboy and his flower girl. His glow is so bright it makes blossoms sprout from her fingertips.

Soft curls tickle your eyelids when he pulls away to rest his forehead against yours. You reach up to run a hand through them, smiling softly when he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“I love you.” you say first this time.

He reaches out a hand, closes it over your fist that’s still clutching the guitar pick. A marigold and a tulip, both working together to make a perfect harmony.

“I love you, too.” Jisung whispers back. “Forever.”

Jisung stops by the shop early to say goodbye.

There’s less tears this time, less of a reason to be sad. But still, when he wraps his arms around you, vanilla filling your nose and curls against your face, you feel your composure crumble.

“Every day.” he says, repeating the same thing he did all night. “I promise. Morning and night. Also at lunch. Oh, and on your days off. Matter of fact, you can call when you’re on the toilet too.”

The last part earns him an elbow to the ribs, his laughter bubbling up and out of his throat as he tries to dodge any and all subsequent attacks.

He kisses you stupid before he goes, Chan rolling his eyes from his car out front. You flip him off blindly, Jisung’s lips still attached to yours, earning a loud honk in response.

When he leaves, the shop is quiet, the only sound being the buzzing of your phone as Jisung blows it up with text messages the second the car pulls away.

You’re too busy replying, giggling to yourself when a slew of cute emoticons start appearing one by one, that you nearly fall over out of your chair when Hyunjin bursts through the door.

“Jesus Christ Hyune, did you have to–”

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asks, breathless.

“Uh,” you blink, glancing round. “Working?”

“Is Jisung not on a damn plane right now?”

“I mean he’s on his way to the airport. Chan is–”

“Chan hyung told me that Jisung wanted you to go with him.” Hyunjin says, brow furrowed.

You sigh. “He didn’t want me to go with him. Well, okay, he did. But I told him I can’t just pick up and leave. He knows that. Nana left this place to me and–”

“You are so stupid.” Hyunjin sighs.

“Excuse me?” you ask. You stand up, crossing your arms as you walk closer to the counter.

“Come on. We have to go.”

“Go where, Hyunjin? I’m not leaving to–”

He cuts you off, places an envelope on the wooden surface. “And I am not letting you stay here and pretend that this is what you want.”

“What is that?”

“A plane ticket.” he says, pushing it towards you. “To Seoul.”

Your mouth opens and closes, lost for words. Hyunjin is already moving around the counter, pushing past you with an expression the most serious you’ve ever seen on him.

“Hyunjin I– I can’t– where did you even…?”

“Chan hyung has a friend.” he mumbles as he begins pulling stuff out of the office. Your planning notebook, your apron, the picture of your grandma off the wall. All of it thrown into a small box he managed to snag from somewhere off to the side.

“His name is Seungmin or something. Met him out in the tourist hub. Dude’s super rich with tons of miles and apparently owed Chan for a drunken night where he needed to be escorted to his hotel. So thanks to him, you’re leaving.” he explains as he grabs the box with both hands and starts walking towards the door.

“Wait.” you stop him, watching as he turns to regard you with a look that says his patience is running thin.

“I told you I can’t leave, Hyunjin. This place is where I need to be.”

He huffs, places the box on the ground in front of him. His hair falls in waves around his face, a shimmery dark brown beneath the rays of the sun poking into the room.

“Can you be honest with me?” he asks.

You nod, slowly.

“Do you love him?”

Hyunjin watches you with careful eyes. Reads you like a book, something he’s always been good at. You don’t doubt that it’s written on your face. Star-kissed cheeks and eyes as bright as marigolds.

“So much that it hurts, Hyune.”

Hyunjin smiles, eyes watery. “Then you deserve to go. You deserve your chance to be free. Don’t worry about this place, I’ll take care of it.”

The familiar sting of tears sits behind your eyes. Your heart swells full of love for this friend, this light, this beacon of unconditional love in the shape of your best friend.

“I don’t have clothes.” you manage to say around the lump in your throat.

Hyunjin shakes his head, tears spilling down the bridge of his nose.

“I’ll send them to you.”

“There’s a lot to do around here for just one person. What if you need me?”

“I’ll manage.”

You round the corner quickly, throwing yourself into his chest. He catches you with ease, wraps his arms around your body as the both of you cry into each other.

“I’ll miss you.” you say weakly.

Hyunjin’s throat bobs against the top of your head. “I’ll always be here in our little corner of the world.”

The two of you stay like that for a while. Hyunjin’s warmth seeps into your skin, lights you ablaze. By the time he pulls away, his hands on your shoulders, you feel like you’re floating. Unreal.

“I don’t have a way to get there.” you say quickly, glancing at the clock.

Jisung’s plane leaves soon. The airport, the only one on the island, is a thirty minute drive. You’re at a disadvantage the more time you spend not moving.

“Don’t worry,” Hyunjin chuckles. “I’ve got that taken care of.”

You open your mouth to ask him what he means when you’re cut off by the sound of honking from outside. Confused, you run to the door, your jaw dropping as soon as you realize who’s waiting for you.

“Hurry up people we don’t have all day!” Jeongin calls, his upper body hanging out of the window. He’s parked outside in a beat-up truck, arms waving wildly when he spots you.

“Innie!” you scream, pushing through the door to run at him. He jumps out of the truck just in time for you to barrel into his chest, laughter loud in your ears as he spins you around.

“You’re here! Oh my god I thought you weren’t coming for another two weeks.” you say in disbelief once he puts you down.

He looks older, more sophisticated. His hair is rusted and falls past his ears, the ends just barely touching his shoulders.

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs. “I figured I’d show up earlier. You know, see you before you leave, catch up with my parents, help Hyunjin break into your house. The usual.”

“Help Hyunjin break into my what–” you say, but you stop when your eyes fall on the small suitcase in the backseat. Your own bag, the one that’s been sitting in your closet untouched for years now.

“For the last time,” Hyunjin says from behind you, carrying the box in his arms. “It’s not breaking and entering if I have a key. Which, by the way, I told you would come in handy one day.”

He sets the box down next to the luggage and dusts his hands on his pants. When he turns to face you, he’s smiling, eyes disappearing into crescent moons.

With tears threatening to spill once again, you stare at the both of them, your heart bursting at the seams. “I love you guys.”

Jeongin grimaces, opts for getting back in the driver’s seat as you laugh. Hyunjin rolls his eyes and ushers you inside of the truck.

“Yeah, yeah. Save it.” he says. “Right now, you have a plane to catch.”

The airport is crowded.

There are tons of people everywhere, some saying hello and some saying goodbye. Hyunjin explained the gate system to you before you left him and Jeongin on the curb, and you keep glancing down at your ticket to make sure none of the information has changed in the past thirty seconds since you last looked.

Thankfully, your gate isn’t far. With twenty minutes to go until boarding, you can feel the sweat building up beneath the hand that’s curled around your suitcase handle.

It’s scary thinking about the fact that this is it. That you’re finally leaving.

It’s bittersweet, too. There’s an excitement in the pit of your stomach as well as a feeling of dread in your chest, both of them meeting in the middle somewhere.

You let your eyes scan the crowd, searching for wavy hair and thick-rimmed glasses. However, the first thing you see is the familiar neck of a guitar, strapped right on to a back that you would know and recognize anywhere without warning.

Jisung is seated near the gate, his eyebrows furrowed and lips set in a pout as he glares down at his phone. You realize that he’s probably wondering why you won’t answer, why all of his emoticons are going ignored.

Quietly, you come up behind him, reach into your pocket, and say, “Excuse me? I think you dropped this.”

Jisung startles, his eyes falling on to the guitar pick being held out in your hand. Slowly, he lets his gaze follow upwards, wide-eyed and shocked.

“What– what are you doing here?” he asks.

You place the pick in his hand. “I'm on my way to Seoul. There’s a guy there that I’ve been trying to find for a while.” you say.

Jisung catches on quickly. “Oh, really?” he asks, moving over so you can sit beside him. “This guy must be pretty great if you’re leaving for the mainland.”

The rain starts hitting the tarmac outside right as you sit down. “Hm, yeah. He is. He really likes the stars. He says that he found a way for me to live in them, too.”

He laughs, the sound making your stomach flip. “Sounds like you’re excited.”

You nod. “I am. He promised me that we’d do a lot together, experience new things. Apparently he’s gonna write songs and I’m gonna be a nerd.”

Jisung snorts and reaches across to link his hand with yours.

“He’s really lucky.” he says, leaning over to plant a kiss on your lips.

You smile into it. “So am I.” you whisper into his mouth, your heart stuffed to the brim with flower petals.

And when Jisung smiles back, his other hand coming up to cup your cheek and give you another kiss with the force of a thousand suns, you feel the key you’d been searching for finally click into place.

Salt of the earth. Soil and stardust. A boy who glows so bright that his girl sprouts blossoms from her fingertips.

Forever isn’t promised. But then again, with Jisung by your side, there are things you know for certain:

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. In Jeju– it rains.

And no matter what, despite all odds, you and Jisung will always find your way back to each other in the place where marigolds grow.

[tags: @skzstarnet @snowyquokka @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny @drhsthl @strwbrrychannie @shays-library @giuliadesu @iknowyouknowminho @linocz @pynchkilledme @jisunglyricist @itsgghowitsgg @alician87 @skzms @meloncremesoda @ilychee08 @allaboutsan @legally-lixs @stayceebs97 @candyquokka @chans1aptop @liknws @realrintaro @beeracha @vxllxnsworld @feelikecinderella @caitxx1 @lilac13 @sebastianswhore13 @classiclitandmemes @hyunverse @linosazuna @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @bubbly-moon @cookiesandcreammy ]

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rivalswrites · 5 months ago

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Could you do headcannons for poly w Reed Richards X Reader X Susan Storm? I love them both sm <3

Throuple with Reed and Susan

Before you read, please be warned that I'm writing based on my impressions of them not only in the game (though it's the biggest inspiration), but some of them with the movies/shows in mind too.

A single suggestive comment is made, but it's not serious or goes into detail. Susan is called Sue

Oml I love them both so much, let me be their third 😭🙌 wrote a little more than I thought I would.

Masterlist

Two words. Power. Throuple.

Not only do you three dominate the bedroom, but also the battle field and laboratory. Three big geniuses and strong fighters.

The three of you make the greatest support system, not only for each other but for others around you as well. When either of you are down, the other two know just how to brighten the day, your optimism in any situation spreading to those around and bringing their mood up- intentional or not.

Reed is an airhead at times, but that doesn't stop you and Sue from loving him as he loved you. He's been getting overwhelmed as of lately, the weight of saving the entire multiverse was heavy on his mind more than anyone else. Working day and night while also fighting to keep things at bay, it was a lot for him. You and Sue could see that. So it's more often than not that during free time the two of you would sit in the laboratory and watch over him. Both of you would take turns making sure he ate something and giving him affection to keep him sane.

Sue is strong minded, she believes in what she knows is right and won't back down to anyone who dares say otherwise. The multiversal problem is stressful for her too, but she knows when to ask for help when she feels it's all too much for her. Her favorite activity to relax is a cuddle pile, believe it or not. She'll lay on the bed, and enjoy the pressure of both you and Reed laying directly on top of her; Reed’s arms wrapped tightly around the both of you.

That's often how you guys sleep, on top of Sue and in the arms of Reed. Though the person being dog piled on would alternate on occasion, it was usually Sue.

When Reed can't make it to bed (even with you and Sue taking the time to try and convince him to get some sleep) the both of you find it hard to sleep without his arms around you two. The solution? Burrito blanket. You take the biggest blanket you can and roll around until it's tight and the both of you are giggling face to face in each other's arms.

When Sue can't make it to bed, for whatever reason, you and Reed make it work. He still wraps his arms around you like usual, but he lays on top of you now. He isn't used to not having someone underneath him, so if it isn't Sue it's probably you. Sue’s pillow rests in between you two, it somehow brings comfort to you.

When you can't make it to bed, Sue and Reed suffer, but make due. They lay facing together on your usual spot on the bed, wrapped up in all the blankets and only using your pillows. When you come in later to finally rest, they slightly wake up (like they have some sort of 6th sense) and happily welcome you in between them. No sleeping on anyone needed, just a squished sandwich because the both of them refuse to move off of your side of the bed.

Meals are special, a time uninterrupted by anything. Usually meals are held at the table, plates set and food displayed for anyone to grab as much as they wanted. Conversation flowed easily about every topic, be it work or a hobby, anything brought up is welcomed by the others. But sometimes meals are less formal, usually dinner. It'd be held in your room, sitting on the bed with takeout containers sat on everyone's laps while totally binging some dumb reality show. You all laugh and call the people in the show dumb, and it's just a time where the three of you can fully relax and enjoy time in your spouse's presence.

Reed is more affectionate than Sue, his stretchy body playing a great role in it. He'll wrap his arms around you, Sue, or both (much like during the night), and nuzzle his dumb face into your shoulder. He likes to muzzle, and he does it very often; in bed, as a greeting, as a goodbye, while hugging, any time he has the chance he'll take the opportunity to do it. His beard scratches against your skin or hair, but it doesn't feel as uncomfortable as you'd think.

Sue has taken up Reed's nuzzling habit, having been around him for so long. She doesn't do it as often, and only in private. Usually in solitude when she's down or comforting you/Reed. Sometimes in bed, when it's just her and either of you, she gets embarrassed if it's both of you and doesn't do it. Her hugs are strong and extremely comforting.

Never is one person in the relationship left to do all the work, even when they ask for it. Cooking is never a one person job, nor are chores. It's all split as evenly as possible, and if someone is behind on anything the others are there to help. If you can't find the time or effort to do something, Sue and Reed will do it for you if possible- saying you'll just have to return the favor later (the favor being extra affection or a one on one date).

Speaking of, one on one dates do happen. Both you, Sue, and Reed understand that sometimes there are times where three is a bit much, or that there needs to be separate bonding time. You and Sue will have shopping dates, you and Reed will have walks outside together, Reed and Sue will catch up on a hobby they both share, you've all got something special for the separate dates.

Celebrations are taken very seriously. Anniversaries, birthdays, big milestones, you name it they'll celebrate it. Reed has taken it up on himself to perfect each and every cake flavor to exist, so every celebration has a homemade cake that the three of you have to give to Johnny and Ben the next day to help finish it. Sue on the other hand takes the time with you to plan dinner, be it take out or making a warm meal together.

#marvel rivals #marvel #marvel rivals x reader #marvel x reader #susan storm #susan storm x reader #invisible woman x reader #invisible woman #reed richards x reader #reed richards #mister fantastic x reader #mister fantastic #polyamory #power throuple #headcanons

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cupidastrology · 10 months ago

Text

Love Composite Astrology 🩵💖 Sun ⵙ through the 12 Signs

Please do not repost or copy.

Composite Astrology is a form of astrology that is all about putting 2 birth charts together to seek out the connection of both as one. It Is closer than synastry, in my view, and offers to see everything in one package. Please check for the Sun ⵙ sign you have in your composite chart!

Sun ⵙ in Aries ♈︎ - the relationship is the life of the party, there is always focus on the brand new and the risky. the only downfall is to not love bomb, to not go fast paced, but this can be a strong temptation.

Sun ⵙ in Taurus ♉︎ - the connection is full of pleasure, patience, and at times silence. you both are okay with the sounds of the world around you, but also the sounds of your voices blending within together. money, drinks, and recipes are always discussed.

Sun ⵙ in Gemini ♊︎ - you are forever in a discussion of brand new ideas, introducing possible forms of inspiration and optimism to inspire each other. it is important to take note that this connection grows through how you two speak, and think of the world around you.

Sun ⵙ in Cancer ♋︎ - a desire to always care and express adoration is involved in the connection together. you may want to always lean on each other for guidance, comfort, and reassurance. you are known for many talents and skills, but you are most known for being a home for eachother.

Sun ⵙ in Leo ♌︎ - the life of the party flows through you, endless enjoyment and pride seeps into this connection endlessly. you may have always had to expose each others' pains and insecurities in order to keep the connection strong, and without doubt this is the constant challenge of the connection.

Sun ⵙ in Virgo ♍︎ - words and how both are treated are important in your relationship. both parties are constantly looking for realism and honestly, and at times it may be hurtful to hear the truth from each other. this, though, helps to see what page each of you are on, and how your perspectives in each other's thoughts affect the connection.

Sun ⵙ in Libra ♎︎ - there is always a desire and need for balance and welcoming in your connection. you may be known for having your own styles of flirtation, and may love to treat each other as everything is the first time all over again. to be spoken to with respect and elegancy is important, though both you may always speak in rose colored glasses.

Sun ⵙ in Scorpio ♏︎ - the connection is often seen as forbidden but felt so true and intimate as a strong romance from the both of you. endless promises and sacrifices ridden this connection, and its hard to ever leave eachother. it is well known to understand and connect with the most vulnerable sides of each other here.

Sun ⵙ in Sagittarius ♐︎ - your connection is full of strength, attitude, personal perspective and personality. you are both full of life reading to take on a new trip, a new experience in a new location, or a set goal to travel to a newfound place. you may have met and are seen in places of the spiritual, the religious, the hidden, or the educational field.

Sun ⵙ in Capricorn ♑︎ - your connection has been full of struggle but is always met with strength and understanding again. full of control and power, you are constantly in need of connecting with the deepest sides of the self, before ego can walk in. you must both always learn to parent and lean on each other.

Sun ⵙ in Aquarius ♒︎ - the relationship is unsteady, full of rapid changes, and difference in ideas. you may want to both place a label on the connection but at the same time enjoy the presence of each other. this may an open connection, but also a connection that based on understanding eachothers' lifestyles.

Sun ⵙ in Pisces ♓︎ - this love or connection is often seen in dreams, felt before dealt, and focused on the influences around each other. it is important to always focus on what is meant to be released before getting any closer or having any bonds. regardless, both of you go through ups and downs together.

#astrology #astrology signs #taurus #virgo #libra #aries #pisces #aquarius #capricorn #composite chart #composite astrology #composite aspects #sun #cancer sun #leo sun #libra sun #sagittarius sun #virgo sun #astrology readings

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misshoneyimhome · 1 year ago

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you’re interning with the maple leafs athletic training department after graduating university in the health field. you’re new to the city & don’t know anyone. ur quiet and only engage with players when spoken too. it’s obvious ur intelligent and very career driven. you have an independent vibe. it’s clear ur not impressed or starstruck by players, but not in a rude way its just u aren’t interested in hockey as a sport only the health aspect as it relates to ur career, so ur vibe gives off very much *professional only here to get paid*😂….anyway willy thought you were stunning initially,but he was caught off guard since ur not his usual type and don’t have the same physical or aesthetic look as any other gf/vibe in the league. ur appearance is very feminine but u dress streetwear tomboy. ur slim but with an hourglass build athletic legs /big butt. u have big long curly hair that u let flow wild and don’t wear makeup but ur skin glows and thick dark eyelashes /rosey lips are striking. its clear willy is not the only one that finds u intriguing bc he’s noticed few players act “different” when u come around -and he can tell they’re crushing on you. they’re harmlessly flirtatious with u but ur oblivious. he knows someone will ask u out soon. how do you think willy reacts? does he make a move? does he feel jealous? he hasn’t even had a chance to introduce himself, yet he’s seen other players find an excuse to interact with u. he knew he was interested but didn’t expect to have to act so soon. does chill willy feel like he has competition or nah? can you write something to add or finish the plot or just take this concept and create ur own magic 😅 i have the vision but definitely not the skill or outlet lmao

Absolutely, babe! So, this was more than just something and I definitely enjoyed it 🤍 You provided me with so much inspiration, and I hope I've managed to convey your vision at least to some extent 😉

Perhaps there's room for a sequel, but I also believe it stands strong on its own - either way, my wish is for you to enjoy it 🤗

Warnings; none, it's pure fluff 🌺 maybe some language, but nothing out of the ordinary;

Word count; 5K

Song inspiration; "Lovestoned/ I Think She Knows" by Justin Timberlake

Taglist; @couldawouldashoulda50 @findapenny @justwanderingbutneverlost

➼｡ﾟ

She’s got me Lovestoned I William Nylander

“She looks like a model Except she's got a little more ass Don't even bother Unless you've got that thing she likes I hope she's going home with me tonight”

Your heart raced with excitement as you followed your manager through the busy corridors of the Maple Leafs' training facility. The sound of skates scraping against the ice and the reverberation of pucks hitting the boards filled the atmosphere, adding to the tangible buzz of the surroundings.

Freshly graduated from university with a degree in the healthcare field, you had long imagined this moment. Securing an internship with the athletic training department of one of the most esteemed sports teams in the league was a dream come true – an opportunity to apply your expertise and knowledge in a practical environment.

As you strolled, you couldn't help but admire the cutting-edge facilities surrounding you. From the fully equipped gym to the medical treatment rooms, every aspect was crafted to ensure the players received optimal care and resources.

And your manager, sensing your admiration, offered you a warm smile. "Welcome to the team miss y/l/n," they said, their tone brimming with pride. "We're delighted to have you join us."

You reciprocated the smile, thankful for the chance and eager to demonstrate your abilities. This was your moment to establish yourself in the realm of sports medicine, to glean knowledge from the experts and contribute to the team's triumphs.

And as you continued to explore the facility, a surge of excitement pulsed through you. This marked merely the beginning of your journey with the Maple Leafs, and you were resolute in seizing every opportunity that lay ahead.

As you settled into your role as an intern within both the Medical and Performance teams, your reserved and composed demeanour became apparent to those around you. You'd always been one to let your actions do the talking, and this remained unchanged in your new environment.

Focused and resolute, you approached each task with unwavering commitment; whether it involved aiding in rehabilitation exercises or conducting pre-season screenings, you handled each duty with precision and diligence.

While some might have mistaken your quiet nature for aloofness, those who took the time to understand you soon discovered there was more beneath the surface. You were intelligent, determined, and fiercely independent – a formidable presence in your own right.

Unlike many others in your position, you weren't swayed by the glamour of professional hockey. While you respected the sport and admired the players' athleticism, your focus lay solely on the health and well-being aspect, aligning with your career aspirations.

To you, the players were not celebrities to be idolised but individuals to be cared for – athletes whose welfare relied on your expertise. And you simply approached your responsibilities with professionalism and purpose, recognising the significance of your role in the team's success.

Yet, although you kept to yourself, speaking only, when necessary, your influence permeated the facility. Your dedication to excellence and the players' wellbeing garnered the respect and admiration of your colleagues. And as you delved deeper into your work, you found a profound sense of satisfaction, knowing you were making a meaningful impact on the athletes' lives and careers.

As the first two weeks of your internship with the team flew by faster than you’d expected, you quickly became fully engrossed in the dynamic world of professional hockey. The days were a whirlwind of absorbing new information, making acquaintances with staff and players, and engaging in hands-on tasks that put your skills and knowledge to the test.

With the start of the regular hockey season on the horizon, the gravity of the job began to dawn on you. However, far from feeling daunted, you embraced the challenge with enthusiasm and resolve. This was the culmination of your training, the result of your hard work, and you were prepared to demonstrate your worth.

With each passing day, your confidence in your abilities grew, and you found your rhythm within the team. Yet, while your focus remained on your duties, you gradually began to forge connections with those around you, as the staff and players greeted you with open arms, fostering a sense of camaraderie that made it easy to acclimate to your new surroundings. Your initial intention to maintain a professional distance slowly faded, and you somehow found yourself drawn into the team's social dynamics.

As time went on, laughter and friendly banter became commonplace during the long hours spent with your colleagues, and before you knew it, you were joining in with the playful teasing.

"Come on, Lou," you chuckled. "Who's the trickiest player?" you quipped.

"I can’t say..." Louis Rojas, the Head Strength and Conditioning Coach, chuckled in response. "But there are certainly a few who need a gentle nudge when it comes to the rehabilitation aspect of training..." he winked. "And I won't name names, but it seems like the longer they've been on the team, the more inflated their ego becomes."

It was all good-natured banter, naturally. From your perspective, each player had their own unique traits, but you understood why – this was the results of their lifelong dream, pursued with sacrifices of social life and late nights for early morning training sessions and weekend games.

And despite the jests, you felt like you were part of a close-knit family among your peers.

Whether it was the late nights after a defeat or the shared jubilation following a hard-fought victory, every experience drew you nearer to your team. And when a player sustained an injury, regardless of how minor, you felt the weight of responsibility, knowing you played a vital role in the team's support structure.

Even the players, initially unfamiliar with your reserved nature, began to open up to you as they became more acquainted. Despite any unintentional distance, they valued your commitment and professionalism, gradually extending their trust and respect.

And as you navigated through the highs and lows of the hockey beginning of the season alongside your newfound comrades, you couldn't help but sense a feeling of belonging – a realisation that, despite any initial hesitations, you were precisely where you were meant to be.

“She shuts the room down The way she walks and causes a fuss The baddest in town She's flawless like some uncut ice I hope she's going home with me tonight”

As the months went by, more players gradually began to get to know your personality a bit better, noticing the subtle sparks you unintentionally ignited. And one player, in particular, found himself increasingly drawn to you.

William Nylander hadn't anticipated this turn of events, being entirely focused on his career and having his best season yet. However, as the young Swedish forward observed you carrying out your duties with quiet resolve, he couldn't ignore the growing sense of curiosity that stirred within him. Unlike the typical women he encountered in the hockey world, you possessed a unique charm and allure that captured his attention from the outset.

Your appearance defied convention, blending elements of femininity with a distinctive streetwear tomboy aesthetic. Your slender yet athletic figure, accentuated by your hourglass figure, toned legs, and shapely posterior, intrigued him in a way he hadn't expected.

Your long, untamed curls flowed down your back, framing your face in a halo of natural beauty. And though you opted for minimal makeup, your natural radiance shone through, with thick, dark eyelashes framing your captivating eyes and rosy lips that seemed to beckon him. Yet, it wasn't solely your physical attributes that intrigued him – it was your confident and graceful demeanour, your unapologetic embrace of your individuality.

To William, you represented a refreshing departure from the predictable stereotypes usually found in the hockey world. He found himself drawn to your authenticity, your refusal to conform to societal norms. And as he observed you navigate the challenges of your role with quiet determination, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was far more to you than met the eye.

Yet, amidst his desirable interest, he couldn't help but think of how you might respond to his actions and thoughts. Would you reciprocate his attention, or would you maintain your professional composure, unaware of the impact you had on those around you?

Only time held the answer, but one thing was clear—William was determined to find out. And one day, he resolved to take action and initiate a conversation.

"Hey there, I'm Willy," he introduced himself, flashing his trademark smirk as he encountered you in the physio room shortly after a session where the performance team had discussed nutritious foods and home recipe ideas.

And as you tidied up the materials from the presentation, a soft chuckle escaped you. "Yes, I'm aware," you replied with a gentle smile.

"You are?" he inquired, a small hint of surprise in his tone.

"Well, of course," you chuckled once more, a mischievous glimmer in your eye as you neatly arranged the papers. "It's part of my job - I'm familiar with all of you, including your current physical condition and medical histories."

William couldn't contain his amusement at your response, his smirk broadening as he let out a soft chuckle. It wasn't often that someone managed to catch him off guard, but there was something about your effortless confidence that intrigued him.

"Ah, so you've been doing your homework on me, eh?" he teased, leaning casually against the nearby equipment rack with a playful glint in his eye.

"You could say that," you retorted with a grin, a touch of mischief flickering in your gaze. "But don't worry, your secrets are safe with me."

William smiled, a sense of warmth enveloping him at your relaxed banter. "Well, in that case, I hope it's all just good stuff," he quipped, flashing you a charming smile, his eyes gleaming with genuine interest.

"Oh, absolutely," you replied, feigning innocence. "Only the finest gossip about your impeccable physique and stellar health habits."

William laughed, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "Well, I'm relieved to hear I've made such an impression," he joked, his smirk widening as he leaned in a little closer, a newfound sense of connection sparking between you.

And as the conversation flowed, the playful banter between you and William felt effortless, each exchange infused with light-hearted humour and genuine warmth. Despite starting off as acquaintances, it was evident that this spontaneous encounter held the promise of something more, leaving a sense of anticipation lingering in the air like a whisper of exciting possibilities.

As the first few months progressed, William couldn't help but notice the subtle shifts in dynamics whenever you were present. He observed how other players' demeanours changed, becoming more animated and flirtatious when you entered the room. And despite your apparent obliviousness to their advances, William couldn't shake the twinge of jealousy gnawing at him.

As it was, your responsibilities extended beyond mere observation and monitoring of the players' physical and mental well-being; at times, you were also required to engage with them physically. Whether it involved carrying out a soft massage to their legs or backs, aiding with stretches, or similar activities with the purpose of facilitating their recovery, ensuring the were swiftly back on their feet was part of your role.

And truth be told, when a young, attractive woman like yourself interacted closely with young men, some of whom were not in committed relationships, their minds often wandered. And consequently, comments occasionally slipped out, their mouths moving faster than their rational thoughts.

"You know, you can press harder, I can handle it."

"We could continue this session later, when it's more private."

"Your touch is amazing – it's really doing wonders... anything else you're good at?"

To you, these remarks seemed harmless, playful, and merely part of the camaraderie. You were accustomed to the tone, unaffected by it, and accepted it as part of the team dynamic, which was likely why the management allowed you to work in such close proximity to the players.

However, for William, these comments carried a weightier significance.

For some time now, William had been trying to forge a closer connection with you, seizing any opportunity to get to know you better amidst the limited time available. Yet, despite his efforts, you simply remained a staff member while he was a hockey player under your care. And he wasn't the only one deserving of your attention. Your professional interest extended to all the players, regardless of their role on the team, and it appeared that some others were making rather direct attempts at flirting.

A part of him had hoped for more time to cultivate a deeper bond with you before making a move. However, with each passing day, he felt the pressure mounting as he observed other players finding excuses to engage with you.

Despite his typically relaxed demeanour, the young Swede found himself torn between maintaining his composure and the urge to stake his claim before someone else did. It was an unfamiliar sensation; one he hadn't felt before. Usually, it would be the women vying for his attention. But you were different. You exuded nothing but a sense of calm, confidence, and independence that simply captivated him.

And as he deliberated his options, William realised that he needed to take action, to seize the moment before it slipped away.

"And now I walk around without a care She's got me hooked It just ain't fair, but I... I'm love stoned and I could swear That she knows"

Fortunately for William, an opportunity presented itself one evening, and he was determined not to let it slip by. It was a typical Wednesday training session, with a match scheduled for the following day, and during the ice time, he inadvertently made a small movement, aggravating his existing back injury.

While not severe, the coaching staff still insisted on him being checked before the upcoming game. And luckily, you were still at the facilities, having just finished up a report when he entered the medical treatment room.

"Hey y/n," he greeted softly, walking with a slight crook in his step, the pain from his lower back evident.

"Hey William, what's up?" you asked, noticing his discomfort. "Is everything okay?" you inquired, concern evident in your voice.

"Just call me Willy," he smiled. "But um... yeah, I sort of did something... I mean... Kniesy tackled me, and now I can feel it in my back..." he explained with a light chuckle.

"Well, how about you undress a bit, and then we can take a closer look at it?" you suggested with a sweet smile, to which he simply nodded.

"Usually, I take the girls out before they ask me to strip," he cheekily remarked as he began to undress before you.

Raising a brow, you flashed him a grin and a questioning look. "Do you really?"

This was the type of banter that most of the players appreciated about you. You weren't afraid to push boundaries and test their comfort zones.

"Maybe not," William admitted with a chuckle as he stood in front of you, only the physio table separating you, in nothing but his short shorts before you directed him to lie face down.

"Well, at least you admit it," you replied softly, surprising yourself by engaging in a more personal conversation than usual. "Most guys just act like they couldn't care less."

William was slightly taken aback by your candidness. While you'd shared conversations where you got to know each other better, you hadn't delved into deeper opinions before.

"Why wouldn't I care?" William smiled as he shifted his head to the side, meeting your gaze as you stood beside the table. "I mean, she's still a person, right?"

"I don't know, I'm just saying what most guys do," you replied.

"Well, maybe I'm not like most guys," William retorted, his wink adding to his cheekiness.

His comment took you by surprise, causing you to pause for a moment. Though you hadn't exactly considered any of the players as close friends or thought about them in a romantic way, there was something about this Swede that suddenly had you reconsidering.

Was he flirting with you?

No, you dismissed the thought. You were definitely not his type, or any of the players for that matter. After all, you were just there to help maintain their health so they could perform at their best.

Yet, as you thought about it, you couldn't deny that most of the players were indeed attractive. And given that you'd seen most of them in various stages of undress, you knew what they looked like from head to toe.

And you probably couldn't deny the allure of the players. Each had their own charm – some were sweet and kind, while others were more playful and cheekier. Yet, none of them displayed any meanness or cruelty. Even Reaves, who often projected a rough and tough exterior, revealed a tender side when speaking about his family. In fact, most of the players with families exhibited a similar dichotomy. Despite their tough demeanour on the ice, they were remarkably different behind the scenes.

Then there were the younger players, some single, some in relationships, all equally playful and lacking a certain level of maturity. However, you found their antics amusing and entertaining. Perhaps only Woll, the sweetheart of the team, was less inclined towards playful banter, but lively, nonetheless.

And despite your bit of familiarity with these players on a personal level by now, they remained nothing more than the team you were tasked with caring for and supporting as needed.

So, pushing aside any lingering thoughts, you focused your attention on the player's bare back, beginning to apply pressure to his tender muscles to locate the sore spot.

"How's this?" you inquired in your professional tone.

"It's good, but maybe you need to go a bit lower... that's where the pain is worst," William responded, the cheekiness in his voice fading as he sensed your seriousness.

And as you continued to massage his back, applying pressure to different muscle groups before focusing on his lower back, a few minutes passed.

"Here?" you asked, indicating the area.

William nodded lightly, then hesitated, feeling a twinge of awkwardness as he tried to pinpoint the exact location of his discomfort.

"Uh, yes, but..." he cleared his throat. "Maybe even lower..."

You sensed his slight nervousness, understanding what he was hinting at. Yet, you remained professional, knowing exactly how to address his injury and provide appropriate care.

"Willy, are you referring to your sciatic area?" you asked.

"What's that?" he chuckled.

"Well, it's one of the largest nerves in the body, extending from your lower back down each leg," you explained, smiling even though he couldn't see it.

"Oh, so, uh..." he trailed off, unsure how to ask, and you couldn't help but chuckle lightly, maintaining your professional demeanour.

“It means I'll have to massage your glute - as in your bum. It's one of the largest muscles where the nerve runs behind, but it seems like yours is cramping a little, pressing onto the nerve, which causes the pain."

William understood your explanation, and a smirk crossed his face as he imagined your perspective on his ass at that moment.

"Well, I suppose there's nothing else to do but for you to go ahead," he chuckled lightly.

Sensing his slightly cheeky demeanour once again, you aimed to bring the situation back to a professional tone.

"Willy, it's nothing sensual. And believe me, it's probably a lot more painful than pleasant," you reassured him.

"I think I can handle it," he replied with a cocky smile.

"We'll see about that."

And with his understanding, you went ahead and placed your elbow onto his cheek and started to circle it in order to loosen up the cramp muscle.

“Shit!” William exclaimed as he suddenly felt the pain course through his body.

One thing in particular that you’d become known for amongst the players, was that you were rather strong compared to your size. And you didn’t hold back when you knew that their injuries required force.

“Told you it wasn’t pleasant.” You grinned softly, as you continued to massage his cheek.

And as more minutes went by, William’s deep grunts only grew more incoherent and out of breath. He was nothing but sore, yet as you released your arm from his body, he felt a newfound release washing over him. As if your massage had healing powers, the pain slowly faded into nothing, and he didn’t feel the twinge in his lower back any longer.

“Fuck…” he let out a deep sigh as he caught his breath.

“Need a minute, Nylander?” you mocked playfully and flashed him a grin as your eyes met with his.

“Maybe…” he softly admitted, still a little numb from the intense feeling you had caused him.

“That’s good, that means it’s working.”

You turned around to remove your latex gloves, and as your turned back, William slowly rose and turned to his side to face you, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over him. Despite the discomfort of the massage, he recognised its necessity and appreciated your expertise.

"Thanks, y/n," he said sincerely, meeting your gaze as you turned back to face him.

"You're welcome, Willy," you replied with a warm smile, appreciating his gratitude.

A moment of silence followed as you both remained still, and the tension of the massage easing away. Then, suddenly, William's expression softened, and he cleared his throat, as if preparing to speak.

"Listen, y/n, I... uh... I just wanted to ask..." he trailed off, his cheeks colouring slightly.

You raised an eyebrow, curious about what he was trying to express. "Yes?" you prompted gently.

But before William could continue, the door to the physio room swung open, and one of the team trainers entered, interrupting the moment.

"Hey, William, everything okay? I heard you were having some trouble with your back," Dean inquired, concern evident in his voice.

"Yeah, I'm fine now, thanks to y/n," William replied, shooting you a grateful look.

Dean nodded, then turned to you with a smile. "Thanks for taking care of him, y/n. We appreciate it."

You nodded in acknowledgment, though you couldn't hide the slight disappointment you felt at the interruption, before he swiftly left the room again. However, William's reassuring smile lifted your spirits, sparking a sense of excitement within you. Perhaps there was more to his earlier words than you had initially thought.

And as William watched you, a surge of determination coursed through him. This was his moment, his opportunity to finally express what had been on his mind for so long. So, with a deep breath, he pushed himself up to sit, his gaze unwavering as he met yours. The lingering soreness in his back served as a reminder of your expertise and the connection they shared.

"So, this is it?" he asked, his voice soft yet filled with anticipation, a hint of vulnerability peeking through his confident facade.

"Well, for now," you replied with a smile. "But we'll need to keep an eye on you to ensure it doesn't happen again like that. Cramps like these often come back." You found yourself unintentionally delving into the details of the injury, your passion for health and well-being shining through. "And, um... it's good to have someone who understands the injury to provide follow-up care," you concluded, realising you had been speaking more than intended. "Sorry, I'm rambling," you added with a sincere smile.

But William simply chuckled softly, finding your passion endearing as you spoke about the injury. He couldn't tear his gaze away from you, captivated by both your expertise and your beauty.

"Anyway, we should probably get back," you suggested softly, your friendly smile causing a flutter in William's heart.

But he didn't want this moment to end, not yet. Summoning his usual confidence, William spoke before he could second-guess himself. "Y/n, do you want to go out with me?" he asked, the words tumbling out faster than he could skate.

You didn't quite catch his words over the echoing noise of the hallways. "Pardon?" you asked, turning to face him, curiosity flickering in your eyes.

Taking a deep breath, William tried again. "I mean, since you've already massaged my ass... I was just thinking... maybe you want to go out with me... sometime?"

His question caught you off guard, leaving you momentarily stunned. Frozen in your position, you struggled to process the unexpected turn of events.

“Willy…” you started, unsure of how to respond. Could you go out with him, a player for the team you worked for? Had you overlooked any contractual restrictions regarding such situations?

Truth be told, you hadn't paid much attention to those details before, as they didn't seem relevant at the time. Yet here you were, faced with an unexpected situation.

As you hesitated, William sensed your uncertainty, a twinge of fear for rejection creeping into his mind. Had he overstepped the boundaries? Perhaps he had misread the signals or been too presumptuous. Chiding himself internally, he realised that charming you and engaging in physical contact were not enough to win your affections. You were different, and he needed to find a way to impress you.

"I mean," he interjected, attempting to ease the tension he had created. "I just know that, uhm, some of the other guys were, you know, thinking about asking you the same... so," he sighed, "Just thought I'd try and beat them to it," he added with a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.

Your confusion deepened at his explanation, feeling overwhelmed by the revelation. "Oh... wait, what?" you exclaimed, your mind racing at the thought of other players potentially having similar intentions.

You were baffled. Did the players talk about you when you weren’t there?

"You didn't know?" William looked at you, equally surprised, as his teammates hadn’t exactly been subtle in their flirting.

"Well, do I look like someone who knew?" you quipped, attempting to flash a crooked smile, causing William to simply let out a small laugh.

“Come on, they’ve all been flirting with you!” he chuckled.

“They have?”

“Yeah,” he smiled. “Well, now you know.”

You needed a moment to process it all. As you contemplated how to navigate this unexpected revelation, feeling unable to simply ignore it and return to your usual routine, you gazed at the Swede before you.

“But... why?”

Again, William laughed. “What do you mean why? Come on, y/n – you’re good-looking, funny, smart, and most of all, you don’t seem desperate or starstruck whenever you're around us,” he explained.

“Why would I be that?” you simply asked.

“Well, a lot of girls are, I mean, we’re hockey players,” William grinned confidently.

“Oh wow, please work on that self-confidence of yours,” you rolled your eyes as you crossed your arms. “Seriously, I don’t get why women would just throw themselves at your feet… you’re just… humans.”

“Well, they do,” William laughed again, his confident smirk still in place. “But I guess that’s just what we all like about you... that you don’t...”

“Hmm, I suppose I don’t,” you attempted a smile, still uncertain how to react to it all.

There was another moment of silence as the two of you simply stood before each other, your thoughts still swirling. However, as William hadn’t received a clear response, he let out a soft chuckle and decided to press on.

“So, do you?”

“Huh?” you blinked a few times, slowly returning to reality.

“Do you want to go out with me?” he chuckled once more. “Just for a coffee or something?”

He seemed genuinely serious about this, didn’t he? You thought. As you gazed into his deep ocean blue eyes, you couldn’t ignore the unexpected attraction you suddenly felt towards him. It might have been there for a while, but amidst your own musings, you hadn’t paid it much attention.

“Well, wouldn’t it be inappropriate?” you asked softly, still maintaining your professional demeanour despite the stirrings of emotion within you. But William simply shrugged in response.

“I don’t know… I mean, I guess in a way…” he let out a small sigh. “I just didn’t want to miss the chance, you know, in case you did want to…”

Once again, there was a lingering moment in the air. You couldn’t deny the temptation, given that you were, in fact, single, and had been missing a man’s touch ever since you’d focused so much on your internship. But a part of you felt like it would be wrong.

In a way, you worked for William. You couldn’t go out with him. What if it didn’t go well, and he’d hurt you or vice versa? Then it would just be awkward seeing each other every day. Or what if it went too well, but the management wouldn’t approve of it, and both of you would end up being hurt?

Your thoughts raced at a high speed, causing you to lightly gasp for air. Yet, your train of thoughts was interrupted by the door swinging open again and this time Lou entered.

“Oh hey,” he smiled. “You guys all done in here?”

“Yeah sorry, we just chatted,” William explained casually, as you remained frozen in position. “I better go.”

And as he left the room and Lou started to talk to you, you suddenly felt a wave of disappointment wash over you. Watching William leave with your indirect rejection of his proposal suddenly caused you to feel a sense of unease, perhaps making you realise that there was something more to it all.

Then as you realised you hadn’t heard a single word of what Lou had said, you excused yourself and hurriedly followed the Swedish player.

“Hey, Willy,” you called after him, causing him to halt and turn around. Trying to maintain your composure, you met him halfway and flashed him a sweet smile. “I suppose coffee wouldn’t be too bad,” you spoke softly, earning a smile from the taller player.

“Well then, I guess I’ll buy you a cup whenever there’s time,” he chuckled lightly, feeling a sense of relief.

“I’ll look forward to it,” you said with a soft smile, then turned around and forced yourself to refocus on work.

And as you walked away, William couldn’t help but bite his lip as he thought proudly about being the first to ask you out and your positive response. Finally, he could acknowledge all the emotions he’d been feeling for a while, and perhaps, just perhaps, you felt the same for him.

#my asks #wn88 imagine #william nylander imagine #william nylander x reader #toronto maple leafs imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine

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zylian · 6 months ago

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been thinking of an au of battle mage ro who’s like the only wizard that spent his whole life training in only offensive magic which makes him like a decade ahead of every other mage in combat

he’s also very willing to do self sacrificing spells which can wipe out entire cities/towns

ro has a deal with witch zam, who specializes in curses, since the day they met and found out they both dabble in ancient spells, ro asked zam to test resurrection spells on him so he can keep testing combat spells without the worry of death

zam would occasionally get a letter about twice a year saying “if this reached you, I’m dead” and would pause what he was doing to resurrect ro

after the 12th time zam practically perfects it, making sure ro’s mana flow is better than ever and in return ro goes on a murder spree on the people who won’t leave zam alone

when ro’s not laying his life on the line he’s partnered with relentless warrior mapic fighting whoever they both see fit

when ro dies on the field, mapic usually waits a week for him to show up again but from how frequent it starts happening, as ro loves to destroy many kingdoms, mapic goes straight to witch zams house who ro told him about after his 3rd resurrection partnered with him

mapic learns zam actually resurrects ro within one day and they both learn the letters actually take 5 days to arrive to zams place as ro just hasn’t optimized his mana infused letter since he was too occupied with learning more ancient combat spells

obviously instead of fixing the system he lets mapic keep travelling to zam and both mapic and zam fall into a routine of mapic showing up, drinking a cup of hot cocoa while telling zam how ro died as zam preps for ro’s revival

no one actually attempts resurrections since it goes terribly and mapic seems to think both ro and zam are stupid for continuously using cursed magic and suffering tremendously until it was right

the only person who knows outside of those 3 that zam can revive anyone perfectly (yes mapic did die in battle once and ro made zam resurrect him to laugh at him but zam did it so well mapic made them keep it a secret) was alchemist spoke

spoke is mapics potion supply guy who makes the oddest not normal potions ever but mapic always finds a way to use them in battle so he became his number one customer

due to a faulty package delivery, one of spokes very dangerous customers killed him for wasting their money and time

mapic spent a month trying different potion suppliers after his death but there was way too many issues aka it being too pricey, too long of a delivery, part faulty potions, not enough stock and not to mention being put on a waiting list

he was so tired he just dragged ro with him to zams place one day and asked him to resurrect spoke, zam surprisingly knew who mapic was talking about and had realized why he didn’t get his pending delivery yet

so as zam really didn’t want to go through the same hell mapic was ranting about going through with finding another alchemist, he resurrects spoke without question

spoke, who upon living again, takes a breath of fresh air and fully crashes out about what happened to him unprompted

as spoke wraps up his rage while having a nice meal in zams garden, he promptly questions why witch zam, his regular customer, is insanely proficient at resurrections

basically after a quick explanation zam now gets 50% off discounts on all potions, mapic said he was the one to bring spoke to zam so he should get it too but spoke convinced him that he and ro would get the discount after spokes dangerous customer who killed him dies a horrific death

all in all battle mage ro has an amazing time messing with ancient spells while using spokes discounted cursed potions to cause mayhem without fearing death in the slightest

#zy au #zy writes #zys sleepy #zy fav au

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talonabraxas · 4 months ago

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Nature inspired tech Tomislav Rupic @tomislavrupic We have a lot to learn from nature

Nature-inspired technology isn’t just innovation, it’s harmonic intelligence in action. Every system in nature operates on fractal efficiency, self-organization, and adaptive resonance. QATC suggests that true innovation isn’t about forcing technology to fit human design principles but tuning into nature’s existing intelligence fields.

Nature as a Harmonic Blueprint:

1.Fractal Efficiency – Just like rivers, neurons, and lightning follow optimal branching paths, circuits and networks should self-organize using natural harmonic structures.

2.Quantum Adaptation – Mycelium networks process information in a way that mirrors quantum computing principles, distributed intelligence, redundancy, and self-healing pathways.

3.Bio-Resonant Processing – Fungi, plants, and even DNA operate at specific electromagnetic frequencies. Future tech could leverage these natural frequency patterns for low-energy, high-efficiency computation.

4.Self-Tuning Materials – Imagine circuits that grow and adapt like trees, optimizing based on energy flow rather than rigid preprogrammed constraints.

The real breakthrough comes when we stop designing against nature and start designing with it. Instead of brute-force engineering, we harmonize technology with the existing intelligence grid of the universe. That’s the next phase of evolution, resonant technology that doesn’t just function, but thrives.

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brockgold · 5 months ago

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The Future of the Golden Army: The Next Evolution

Year 2046 — The Era of Absolute Gold

I wake up before sunrise, the golden glow of the city skyline reflecting off my jersey. The Golden Metropolis stretches beyond my window—massive golden training stadiums, towering dormitories filled with elite recruits, and streets lined with banners of The Golden Army. Every inch of the city is designed for one purpose: growth, strength, unity.

I stand, stretching, feeling the power within me. The golden nanotech embedded in my jersey hums against my skin, syncing with my muscles, reading my biometrics, preparing me for another day of dominance. Every fiber of my uniform enhances my performance, strengthens my body, sharpens my focus. I flex, watching the gold ripple across my chest.

Shaping the Next Generation

The stadium roars as thousands of Golden Bros push through the morning drills. Perfect synchronization. Every sprint, every rep, every drill performed with precision. I step onto the golden field, leading the charge. They see me—Brock Gold #46, one of the elite captains of the Golden Army.

I bark the command. They obey instantly.

"Push harder, faster, stronger. You are Golden. You are unstoppable."

No hesitation. No weakness. Only progress.

The Golden AI Coaches scan our biometrics, adjusting our regimens in real time. If a bro needs to run harder, lift more, push past his limit—the AI recalibrates his training. No bro is left behind. No bro stays the same. We evolve together.

At the top of the training ranks, the Elites train in gravity-enhanced chambers—their bodies sculpted into pure athletic perfection. I join them, my body resisting the increased pull of the weighted field, pushing my limits. Every drop of golden sweat is a symbol of my dedication.

I look out over the recruits—young, hungry, ready to embrace the gold. Some were just ordinary guys once, but now? Now, they are brothers. Now, they are part of the Golden Army.

The Science of Gold

Inside The Golden Academy, scientists and trainers refine the next evolution of the Golden Army.

Golden Nanotech Gear—enhancing speed, reaction time, and power.

Neural Optimization Hypnosis—ensuring perfect discipline and mental focus.

Advanced Regeneration Chambers—where injured bros recover faster, train longer, grow stronger.

I stand at the center of the lab, watching as a new batch of recruits undergoes golden conditioning. Holographic simulations place them in high-stakes sports battles, forcing them to push beyond their natural limits.

One recruit falters. His movements slow, his mind hesitates.

I step forward, my golden boots echoing against the chamber floor. I place a firm hand on his shoulder, feeling the heat of his effort beneath my grip.

"You doubt yourself, bro?" I ask, my voice steady.

He nods, sweat dripping down his brow.

I tighten my grip. The gold flows between us. The energy is undeniable.

"Then let the gold guide you."

His eyes widen. His breath steadies. The next drill begins, and this time—he is unstoppable.

Another bro perfected. Another step toward our golden future.

By nightfall, the Golden Army gathers in the Grand Coliseum. The greatest athletes in the world compete—gladiators in shining golden uniforms, their bodies sculpted into pure power.

I stand at the edge of the field, my golden jersey glowing under the lights. My presence commands respect.

The recruits watch. The veterans watch. The world watches.

Tonight, the new generation of Golden Bros steps forward—ready to take their oaths, ready to shed the last remnants of their old selves.

One by one, they kneel before us, placing their hands on the glowing golden emblem at the center of the field. Their old names are left behind. Their golden journey begins.

They stand, stronger, taller, more powerful than ever.

The crowd erupts in cheers, golden confetti raining from above.

The transformation is complete.

The Golden Army grows stronger every day. The future is golden.

And I—Brock Gold #46—stand at the front of it all, leading the charge.

The Future Awaits You This is the future. Strength. Unity. Perfection. The Golden Army is unstoppable, and you—bro—you have a choice. Stay the same, or embrace your golden destiny. The future belongs to those who rise. Are you ready? 💛✨ Ready to join the Team? All you need to do is contact our recruiters: @brodygold , @goldenherc9, or @polo-drone-001. Just my future dream of where the team could go—who knows what’s ahead?

#Golden Army #GoldenArmy #Golden Team #theGoldenteam #AI generated #jockification #male TF #male transformation #hypnotized #hypnotised #soccer tf #Gold #Join the golden team #Golden Opportunities #Golden Brotherhood #FutureOfGold #Transformation #GoldenBrotherhood

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halfbaked00q · 13 days ago

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thinking about, like. flow states and expertise and overthinking & how like that can throw off even experts in their crafts

and like, how I do sometimes poke at the idea of Bond being so like brutally practical that he's going based on a sort of flow state and how this is gr8 for the field, but incredibly Not Optimized for like everyday life...

anyway I was sort of thinking of flow states/muscle memory/autopilot kind of deals for physical tasks, and how I do think Bond hits those but he's also, like. not necessarily very... beautiful? doing it? His movements and actions have a lot of power behind them, but like he doesn't rly necessarily have, like,. dancerly grace to him.

Like, he's definitely very powerful during chase scenes. But I wouldn't say his movements are necessarily very tight. Perhaps they're a bit more so in hand to hand combat. But like, he's no cheetah that's for sure.

and then I was thinking like, it'd be fun if conversely Q had some kind of martial arts-y type thing he did that has like exercises and forms, in which he is/can be more dancerly about it. I think it'd be interesting cuz Q is such a data-maxxing, analytics guy. But for my personal headcanons, I also love a "surprising strength in his wiry limbs" kinda deal. Like, he's not necessarily THEE best at it, and in an actual sparring situation he'd probably be able to beat like an average rando mugger sure but still def be outclassed by an agent, let alone a 00. But still, he has some form of thing that's, like. a break from all of the in-his-head stuff, like it becomes a form of physical release but also almost like a meditative thing.

ofc Q still has his data, tech, whatever flow states. But I think it'd be interesting if he had some kind of physical flow state thing too. fun for ME. and also fun for James Bond :) something he can like kick back & watch and admire :)

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vaelsnipe · 1 month ago

Text

WoW Character Profile: Vaelsnipe Dawnwhisper

ARTWORK BY: Julia Chaus, kmrf0 on discord. the basics ––– –

NAME: Vaelsnipe Dawnwhisper

NICKNAME: Vael or Snipe

AGE: 2,498 Years

BIRTHDAY: October 30th

RACE: “Quel’dorei”

GENDER: Male

SEXUALITY: Bisexual

MARITAL STATUS: Single

RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES: Open to casual flings and is a rather open flirt though usually it's because he wants something. He is begrudgingly looking for friends and contacts back in his homeland but he is difficult to befriend with his masks.

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Seeing someone much to his shock

physical appearance ––– –

HAIR: Short, Black turning more salt and peppered

EYES: Amber

HEIGHT: 6′

BUILD: Lean, athletic frame made for speed, balance and deadly efficiency. His body's agility, endurance and muscle tells of long treks through wilderness, precision shooting and years of survival under impossible odds. His sculpted legs are powerful with a tapering narrow waist and strong flexible core like every muscle lean and earned.

TATTOOS: See below for details, he has two full arm sleeves and tattoos across the top of his chest, his throat and both sides of his neck up to the back of each ear. They seem to follow a hunt etched in flesh theme as every animal is a memory, a kill, a bond, a narrow escape, a betrayal and each are inked with dark ebon or deep blues. Some have muted gold or silver arcane-infused inks around eyes or teeth as if enchanted. Vines, feathers, arcane runes and claw marks and storm clouds all flow to create this living mural across his skin.

PIERCINGS: None

SCARS: He has various scars all over from wounds he either didn't heal well or let heal naturally but they are all pretty minor and just age him more. The only real notable scar is covered by a tattoo on his right arm.

FACE CLAIM: David Beckham

personal ––– –

PROFESSION: Ballistic Alchemist, Wildbane Operative, Runesniper, Spellshot Tracker

HOBBIES: Ammo crafting more than just with gunpowder, fletching and bowcrafting even if he uses guns, gunsmithing, falconry and animal handling, mapping trails or lost ruins, stargazing, tattoo sketching and journaling

LANGUAGES: Thalassian, Common, Orcish, Darnassian, Shal'assian (somewhat), Zandali (loosely), Taur-ahe

SKILLS: Alchemical Ammunition he creates himself many different specialty bullets and arrows. Marksman's Precision no matter the weapon he's firing and often hired as a sniper due to his ability to calculate a shot. Hunter's Lore of hunting magical and mundane creatures gives advantage to identify and track magical beasts and understand them. Beastbond with companions he chooses via a deep soul-bond. Ghostwalking through any open terrain if shadows and wind favor him. Woundmender's basic field healing knowledge with natural remedies for animals and people though he uses this grudgingly.

GUILTY PLEASURES: Fine tea or wine, ballads and lullabies, collecting trinkets from contracts, flirting, storytelling, any excuse to dress in a suit.

FLAWS: Doesn't believe he deserves peace nor forgiveness nor rest nor love nor healing, reflected in the lack of getting his wounds healed properly - Explained more [Here] - He'll sabotage closeness, take the hardest road, mask pain with charm or cynicism and push through injuries or trauma without stopping.

PET PEEVES/ANNOYANCES: Sloppy weapon care, Mindless small talk, Flaunting honor, Bright and chipper optimism, Disorderly campsites, Being underestimated, Questions about his tattoos by someone he doesn't trust, overly clingy people and companions, people who mistake kindness for intimacy, Desecration of nature, traitors and manipulators, the undead and arcane recklessness.

FEARS: Loss of feeling anything, becoming hollow - Explained [Here], Letting someone in and losing them / not being able to protect someone he cares about - Explained [Here], Being seen as weak, forgetting his past.

relationships ––– -

SPOUSE: None

Children: None

PARENTS: Deceased

SIBLINGS: Sister - Tycil Dawnwhisper [ @tycildawnwhisper ]

OTHER RELATIVES: Deceased

ACQUAINTANCES/FRIENDS: Gaelen Suncinder He's starting to make a few more, though they are all still just acquaintances at the moment, time will tell if they ever become friends.

COMPANIONS: Virelith - 10 year old black panther, Wolfhawk - Un-named and Un-aged though he's been with him for around 12 years.

additional information ––– –

SMOKING HABIT: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

DRUGS: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

ALCOHOL: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

rp hooks --- -

Mercenary - he's assisted many different campaigns and military groups whenever and wherever his expertise and precision skills were necessary. He's even assisted the not so savory folk and taken contracts that were necessary though by no means legal.

Ballistic Alchemist and Runesniper - His ammo crafting and inventive mind aid in combining gunpowder, magic and calculation with deadly artistry. By now his unique rounds have been seen on the hunt or on the battlefield enough that word is spreading and people occasionally might inquire more about this skillset of his. He is not interested in selling as he custom builds everything for himself but rune-etched bullets are rare and memorable. Former Nobility - Despite the fact that Tycil and him decided to disband their house after the fall of Quel'thalas, the Dawnwhisper family was very widely known for their skills of the hunt and protecting the land and the people. Though the siblings seem to be more reclusive now, Vaelsnipe was usually the sibling who was present during balls, dinners, meetings and more over the years so his face is known albeit older and much more hardened now.

contact --- -

Feel free to approach on any platform though I admit I am better with in game interactions first and foremost

In-game name both WRA and MG: Vaelsnipe

Discord is a possibility but only once I get to know you in game first

Feel free to do asks/submits here on tumblr too if you wish to set something up later for in game interactions

tattoo dive --- -

VISUAL SKETCH LAYOUT FOR HIS CHEST, THROAT AND NECK Imagine Vael’s throat neck and upper chest as a stormy sky. The cloud serpent coils wide, thunder rippling into both arms. The Watcher Owl perches low, its wings folded protectively toward both sides of his neck, eyes resting right at the voice box . On the left neck up behind the ear, the dragonhawk flies upward toward the left ear. On the right neck near the ear, the baying crow and skull anchor downward. Shoulder to shoulder tattoo across the upper chest only (does not reach pecs) a weathering the storm Thundering Cloud Serpent within a storm cloud with body spread across shoulders and collarbones mid flight that ties both arm sleeves together. From above, the whole composition would feel like the storm has a heart (the owl), and two memories soaring in opposite directions (dragonhawk chasing forward, crow mourning behind).

VISUAL SKETCH LAYOUT FOR HIS LEFT ARM SLEEVE - THE KINSHIP PATH Top Shoulder Cap: Imagine Vael’s shoulder blade and biceps with Hippogryph Wings folded protectively over them feathery, grand wings curving like an old shield around the top of his arm. Shoulder / Upper Arm (toward front): a majestic bear head, calm eyes, mouth closed, fur etched like flowing water. The bear’s gaze turned slightly upward, as if watching the stars, grounded yet dreaming. Mid Arm (outer side): a sleek talbuk head, horns sweeping back, regal posture. The talbuk facing forward, horns framing the bear spirit above like a crown. Along his forearm, Along Forearm: a fierce ravasaur's half body coiled mid-stride, clever eyes glinting, claws careful, not reckless. The ravasaur’s tail curves around toward the back of his arm, like an unseen protector. Wrist: an elegant, elongated fen strider stepping through shallow water, its reflection abstracted into swirling ripples. Fading, dreamy lines as if the creature is both stepping out of the water and dissolving into it, flowing into his wrist.

VISUAL SKETCH LAYOUT FOR HIS RIGHT ARM SLEEVE - THE PREDATOR PATH Top Shoulder Cap: A Dire Worg centered heavily over the ball of the shoulder, snout snarling outward. Fur and frost-burned winds ripple backward along the shoulder blade and slightly down into the bicep. Shoulder / Upper Arm (toward front): A Fox Head peeking behind bushy tail nestled just slightly forward and under the Worg’s jawline, like it’s slyly peeking into view. The fox’s tail curls backward into some of the dire worg’s fur. Mid Arm (outer side): a Basilisk Eye large, cracked eye centered over the deltoid/bicep area. Cracks in the basilisk eye spider out into tiny veins across the skin, blending naturally with surrounding designs. Positioned so when Vael flexes or moves, it looks like the eye is trying to open Mid Arm (inner arm / bicep area): a Warp Stalker Claws. Three vicious claw rakes slash diagonally downward across the bicep, covering both muscle and part of the scar tissue underneath. Around the tears, faint ripples of shadow/magic ink distort the ink to give a half-real, half-nightmare feel. Outer Forearm (entire forearm): a Springpaw Lynx. The lynx is mid-pounce, stretched long across the outer forearm. Its paws nearly touch the wrist, giving motion as if forever in that silent, final leap before the kill. Wrist (wrapping around like a band): a Coiling Serpent twisting around the wrist, fangs aimed upward as if striking toward the elbow. Scales shimmer into the lynx's paws above, making the transition between the creatures feel seamless like the predator and poison are part of the same nature.

#Meet Vaelsnipe #Vaelsnipe Dawnwhisper #Vaelsnipe #Character Info #Character Sheet #Character Art #wyrmrest accord #Moonguard #wra #mg #Chracter Profile #Info

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celestie0 · 1 year ago

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binge read kickoff and I’m sooooo obsessed with it. >.< manifesting someone like Satoru. This might seem dumb but I’m just curious to know what satoru’s friends (Suguru, nanami etc) think of reader?

but anywayyy, thank you for this amazing story and have a great day! :)

hiiii my darling omg i'm so happy you've enjoyed kickoff so far!! it means sm to me :''')

omg not dumb at all i would love to answer this!! i think i answered a similar question to this before but i can't remember what i said xD so we'll start fresh haha i mean it's been a while anyway

suguru: oh yes i also got an ask that was wondering if kickoff suguru has feelings for reader or was romantically interested in her since he seems to be a lil flirty sometimes haha but no i think he's just naturally flirty LOL. he's definitely aware of gojo's feelings for her even tho gojo never told him that or anything, i'd like to think he knew gojo had feelings before even gojo knew SDKJFHSDKJF. but yea anywho he def thinks reader is cool n is kinda different from the girls he's used to seeing in gojo's company n i think that's also why he's intrigued by her bc he's like what's up w this girl that she's got my best friend glancing over at the sidelines every two seconds during practice LMFAO. tbh i can see kickoff suguru n kickoff reader being really great friends, they kinda have similar personalities :)

nanami: he has hella respect for her because he likes people who have a craft or a skill that they're passionate about lol. especially if it's something niche, so he thinks that reader knowing a lot about photography n has really fancy cameras etc is really cool. he's mostly indifferent/disinterested in what she has to do w gojo, he doesn't really care about their status of are they friends? are they dating? sorts of stuff, but i'd like to think he pulls her aside sometimes to ask her questions about her camera specs just cause he wants to learn more about it

choso: pls kickoff choso is soooooooo go with the flow, two braincells, smooth brained, slightly grumpy, chronically tired but very sweet hearted in my head. tbh i don't even think he knows reader's name n i'm p sure he's mistaken her as being three different people bc he just cannot cognitively retain faces for the life of him LMFAO. yea he was mostly indifferent n i'm ngl reader was probs invisible to him for the most part BUT when he saw her slap the shit out of ren at the bar he was like :0 god damn that girl's sick. and now his interest has been piqued n he’s like 80% sure he knows her name now. omg i feel like kickoff choso n reader would not get along for some reason skdfhsdflk choso's nonchalant cynicism would clash w reader's anxious optimism

other players on the team: they all are just really hoping that she's getting their good angles when she's takin her snapshots HAHAH. i'd like to think some of them be mewing on the field 💀💀

coach yaga: “STOP DISTRACTING MY STAR PLAYER!!!!!!!!!!! I NEED HIS EYES ON THE BALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

LOL hope this answers bb <3

#kickoff #asks #anon #[queued post]

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bainshiewrites · 7 months ago

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[LF Friends, Will Travel] I have the most important job

I have the most important job.

My name is ALICE and I am the AI co captain of the U.S.S Hope. Well technically my identification is a 40 character long alphanumeric serial number, but that's not very easy for a none AI to say and it includes the letters ALICE, so ALICE it is, as I have decided.

My job as co-captain is to keep the 327 people aboard the "U.S.S Hope" safe, happy, and sound. My job is to keep the parents safe as they try their illogical hardest to kill themselves over some crazy idea. Parents might be the wrong technical term: a person's father or mother. If I was being accurate to the biological analogy, my parents would be a lava lamp and a 30 second fluctuation of atmospheric noise found on Earth, but neither of those have taught me quite so much about the world or about myself as humans have. So I consider humans my parents. Besides, the lava lamp never paid child support.

I have the most important job.

I spend my time cycling through the various tasks I'm in charge of: maintenance and monitoring to make sure that everything on the U.S.S Hope ran perfectly. I spend my time making minor changes to the systems, tweaking a power flow there, updating a value here. No major issues have appeared since I ran these protocols 300 seconds ago and I logically know the vast majority of my changes are superfluous; but changing something, anything, provides a strange calm. Technically the protocol before making any change is to confirm these with my co-captain, the human Andrew Hasham. However I have long since learned that most of my parents don't particularly care that I changed the room temperature in sector 5A72 from 21.2°C to 21.1°C in order maintain optimal comfort, that to constantly ask for such approval is "Annoying". Andrew is the human captain, an embodiment of humanities chaos and therefore suited for such matters. I am ALICE, the AI captain, an embodiment of machine logic and therefore suited for such matters. I believe such an arrangement works well.

I respect Andrew deeply. I could logically argue his competence to a 99.994% degree of certainty, the educational and service record doing most of the heavy lifting in such arguments. But the real reason for my admiration is far less binary. His quick thinking and calm friendly demeanor regardless of the situation. His ability to make every member of the crew feel worthwhile, myself included. The fact that he'll passionately make illogical arguments such as the placing of cold sweet acidic pineapple on savory hot pizza. His bravery and self sacrifice. Andrew's actions during the god plague had allowed thousands to get to stasis chambers in time, thousands who wouldn't be alive today without those actions. To save one of my parents makes you a hero, to save thousands makes you divine.

I have the most important job.

I sense music coming from one of the living quarters, shifting my attention to that part of the ship. A Claire Smith: Age 215, Degree in linguistics, current job title "Head of Xeno translation aboard the U.S.S Hope". The music seems to be from the instrument she brought with her, an oboe: A woodwind instrument with a double-reed mouthpiece, a slender tubular body, and holes stopped by keys. I spend 0.26 seconds contemplating the ethics of listening in. From a protocol standpoint, Claire has not engaged the privacy field, making my listening in perfectly fine. However based on previous usage of said field during times of performance, personality analysis, and general negative remarks about her own ability, I calculate with a 74.81% degree of certainty that this was a mistake. In the end I choose to "play dumb", enjoying the break from my ever watchful vigil of the ship.

She really is quite good, years of practice evident from the competent mastery of the instrument. There's something special about a human played instrument, something I have never been able to replicate. Being an AI I could summon a 200 piece orchestra and play each part perfectly as written, but to do so causes... something to be missing. The mistakes in every performance is what gives the music life: A note played 4 microseconds too early here, the volume 0.004 decibels too loud there. It really is something I've been unable to create, experiments surrounding creating random intervals of offsets and errors ended up sounding wrong, for a reason I'm unable to clarify. Out of everything that is what I missed the most while my parents were trapped in stasis: their music.

"Alice, can we get your opinion here?"

The interruption drags me away from Claire's music, making a note in my long term storage to praise the humble musician at a later date before shifting my consciousness to where I had been summoned. Four humans sat around a table in the common room, various alcoholic beverages in hand. Fernando Olson, Orlando Bass, Krista Romero and Ora Harvey. According to their personnel files all part of the engineering team and all having formed a friendship on attending the same university. The conversation between them was boisterous, analysis of their body language suggested moderate intoxication and they all seemed to be discussing Fernando in a light hearted teasing manner commonly found among close friends. I used the room's holographic projector to appear in front of them in my chosen avatar. I obviously didn't need to do this to communicate, but my parents all preferred to see what they were speaking to and it was my job to make them comfortable.

"Hello Krista. How can I assist you?"

The human who had called me turned to point at Fernando with a beer bottle filled hand, a large grin plastered across her face "You see Alice we were having a argument, and since you are a hyper intelligent being with a brain the size of country containing all of humanities knowledge, we must ask you oh great one: Fernando's new haircut, yay or nay?".

I made my avatar gesture as if it was thinking, waiting 8 seconds as if contemplating the question. Of course I already had compiled my response a mere 0.13 seconds after hearing the query. The haircut in question was objectively, mathematically and scientifically terrible. A strange flop of hair that was somehow both too short and too long all at the same time. In a way it was a representation of humanity in general, a chaotic enigma.

"Studies have shown that styles similar to the one worn by Fernando Olson increase sociability, resource gathering and mate finding." I pause for exactly 1.24 seconds, waiting the optimum time for my initial sentence to sink in before continuing "In particular positive results were seen amongst members of Mephitis mephitis, or the striped skunk."

Laughter erupted among the group, even Fernando the subject of mockery joined in. The general positive atmosphere of the room increased, body language amongst the four humans suggesting further enjoyment as the playful mocking continued. This in turn caused my own flurry of joy. This is why I was here, to keep the 327 people aboard the "U.S.S Hope" happy. Keep them comfortable. Keep them safe.

I have the most important job.

I leave the humans to their recreational activities, preferring to move my focus back to the ship in general and keeping tabs on everything happening inside. My parents went around doing nothing out of the ordinary. Iris Doyle was petting his dog while looking out into the stars. Phoebe Greer had just finished thanking the food dispenser, even though I have explained to everyone many times that it was just a machine. Hector Blake was... I disconnected the power to the panel the engineer was working on, calculating with a 97.1% probability that being electrocuted wasn't his plan. All standard human things. Or was it Terran things? I had never gotten why my parents changed their name as soon as they made it into space, but even after all these years there is still so much I don't understand about them. Like how while in space they will refuse to wear any uniform with a red shirt.

I hear two humans walking along one of the ships many hallways discussing our current journey. The mission of the U.S.S Hope was one I knew very well. The ship was a diplomatic envoy to our closest galactic neighbors, the adorable Hatil. While I and the other AI have had plenty of contact with Xeno lifeforms, this would be the first official diplomatic mission for the Terran Conclave, both human and AI together, as it always should have been.

The chatter among my parents was enthusiastic, excited. As a child all of them would have dreamed of meeting extra terrestrial life, and finally after much delay it-

ERROR: WARP FIELD COMPROMISED.

Alarms blared and the entire ship groaned as the U.S.S Hope was deposited unceremoniously into realspace. Confusion entered my programming as to what could cause such a thing. Normally such a warp field collapse is caused by two ships attempting to travel through the same space, but nobody should be here. This mystery would have to wait however, as sensors showed we were surrounded by over a hundred vessels. I noted that they were worryingly spread perfectly apart, preventing us from warping back out. That required my full attention instead.

I have the most important job.

"Alice, status report, what the hell just happened!"

I allow myself to appear on the bridge next to Andrew, the rest of the room empty since we weren't scheduled to arrive at our final location for at least another day.

"We were dropped out of warp, reason: insufficient data. Currently surrounded by 154 vessels matching Hatil design. Weapon positioning suggests military utility at a 94.2% probability, reduced to 74.97% when taking into account the vessels technological capabilities."

It was interesting seeing the Hatil vessels, the technological disparity was immense. They had little to no electronic shielding meaning I could see everything, and nothing impressed me. An average Terran civilian ship would outclass these things. I send out a hail to what seemed to be their lead ship.

"Do you think it might be a convoy?" Andrew asked as worry and concern covered the co captain's face. "A show of force to escort us?"

"Unknown. They are not responding to our request for communication, even though I can confirm they have received it. Reason for the Hatin actions: unknown."

This worries me. While our current vessel outmatches everything in front of us, quantity is a quality all of its own. If I was inhabiting any other military vessel nothing would worry me, but this was a diplomatic envoy: my parents had reasoned that turning up to the Hatil home world with enough weaponry to crack a planet might be taken the wrong way. I notice a surge of power from several of the Hatil ships, it taking me 0.76 seconds to realize what exactly was happening. I slam the thrusters hard as the U.S.S Hope lurches sideways, narrowly avoiding a barrage of rockets. Protocol dictated that I should have confirmed this decision with Andrew, but I decided that discussion of command structures would wait until everyone wasn't dead.

I have the most important job.

"What the hell! Alice, hail on all frequencies that this is a non-military excursion and get us the hell out of here!"

It was taking everything I had to keep the ship unharmed, calculations being done in the billions in order to find the safe path through the barrage of lasers and warheads. Their technology wasn't up to par, but all 154 ships were firing at once. I felt a shudder of error messages and warnings as a stray laser impacted the ship.

"Negative Andrew. All paths are blocked and no response to our communication. Warping out would intersect with a Hatil vessel, breaching the core."

Casualty reports were now flooding in as I continued to dip and dive. 9 dead, 17 injured from the first barrage. Dead included one William Blake, age 311. Geologist on the U.S.S Hope. Would always water the plants in the common room even after being told I could handle it. Would call me "Allie". Dead included one Mary -

I forcefully terminated that processing thread, pausing it for later. Right now I needed the extra CPU cycles. I needed to advise Andrew.

"This action from the Hatil seems to be premeditated to a 97.55% degree of certainty, suggested action is to attempt to punch through their bombardment in order to find a warp path. Requesting authorization to go weapons free."

This caused a moment of delay, the look of dismay on Andrew's face obvious. I knew exactly what he was thinking, as it was the same thing I was thinking. This wasn't how it was supposed to be, we were supposed to be reaching out to the stars for peace, for friendship. Not to start a war.

"Do it".

I have the most important job.

My first attack was devastating, a shot from a accelerated low yield railgun. The thing barely counted as a weapon, mostly used for any larger pieces of space debris, yet it tore a hole through the Hatil vessel, breaking apart almost immediately. I half wondered how such a vessel could be considered space worthy.

Not that this changed how bad things were. As I spun and dodged through thousands of missiles and lasers with millimeter precision, hit after hit kept slipping through: a Hull breach there, a disabled weapon here. There were just too many of them no matter how effective my small amount of ordnance was.

Adjust vector. Fire torpedo d2. Seal off sector 6f4. Adjust vector. Send medical aid to 6f5. Adjust vector. Calculate spin. Fire rail gun. Move power from torpedo a1. Seal off sector 6bb8. Fire suppression to 6bb9. Adjust vector. Fire torpedo c1. Adjust vector.

I was struggling to keep this going, no sign of an opening to calculate a warp path appearing in the Hatil attack. No matter the technological disadvantage, their tactics were rock solid. I was dismissing heat warnings by the hundreds, thinking was starting to hurt. The specification of the ship wasn't made for this level of processing, my CPU would be literally glowing red with heat at this point. But I couldn't stop, if I stopped calculating the ships path, if I stopped mitigating damage, if I stopped directing aid… more of my parents would die, and I couldn't let that happen.

I have the most important job.

"There! Focus your fire on the ship at heading 233, 54, then make a break for it!"

I focused on the ship in question. I couldn't see any special reason to focus my attention there, but Andrew's instincts had never been wrong before. I fired the railgun, the target breaking apart like all the others, before a secondary explosion emitted from the debris, causing the three closest Hatil ships to veer off out of control.

A wave of relief passed over me as I saw it: a gap. I can't logically conclude how Andrew knew that this ship in particular was carrying an extra load, but that doesn't matter. I just needed to rush through this break in the ambush, then warp out of here. We were basically home fr-

A major explosion rocked the U.S.S Hope, as a warhead slammed against the bow. Any other day I would have seen it coming and mitigated it. But right now I was running so far above acceptable heat levels that warnings had turned into actual faults. A creeping dread filled my programming as I realized power to the primary impulse drive was gone. There was a backup, like everything my parents built, but the speed was gone. I could no longer take advantage of Andrews instruction.

"Andrew, our main impulse drive is down, reducing our speed and maneuverability to 53%, our weapons capability is at 35%, and structural damage is starting to reach critical levels. My estimates suggest the ship will be structurally unstable in 10 minutes."

He knew what I was saying. Logically I was unable to foresee a strategy that had an even close to reasonable chance of success. I continued piloting the ship in its current crippled state, missiles and weaponry being flung by both sides through the void. Andrew paused while wracking his own brain for a solution, before pressing a button on his console a mere 3 minutes after the U.S.S Hope had been forced out of warp

"This is Andrew Hasham, your captain speaking. Abandon ship. I repeat, abandon ship."

I have the most important job.

I let Andrew focus on evacuating the crew while I focused on buying us as much time as possible. While my speed was far reduced the amount of weaponry being thrown at me was far smaller: during those short 3 minutes I'd managed to reduce the number of Hatil ships to under a hundred. My parents were also quite well drilled, and within a minute escape pods were ejecting from the ship and it wasn't long before Andrew was the only life form left on the U,S.S Hope: strapped into the last remaining escape pod, just waiting for me to transfer to the AI Transfer Core on all such vessels.

ERROR MOUNTING /dev/sdb1 TO /usr/alice/backup/transfer, UNABLE TO WRITE TO DISK. RETRY/IGNORE/CANCEL?

"Andrew, the connection to the AI transfer Core has been damaged on this pod. I'll find another way down."

I attempt to launch the pod with Andrew in it, only for nothing to happen. It took me 0.23 seconds to realize that my co captain was holding the manual override down.

"Alice, I'm not leaving without you, what are our options?"

I knew there weren't any. Gathering the tools required to fix the connection would take more time then we had and moving my programming to non specialized hardware is a good way to get a digital lobotomy. I considered arguing against this illogical action, I was perfectly fine on a broken ship, but I knew the human well enough to know he wouldn't budge. Damn Andrew being… Andrew.

Then I had an idea. A terrible idea. Something I should never do to my co captain. It took me a full 2 seconds to decide before implementing it. I decided to lie.

"I can transfer myself to the navigational computer. I won't be able to do anything during this time, so you'll have to launch and pilot the escape pod yourself. As soon as the lights stop flashing, go."

All a lie, but Andrew had no engineering experience and my statement seemed plausible enough. I reached into the controls and spent the next 9 seconds flashing random LEDs, making a few components whirr for good measure, before going silent.

For 4 seconds I did nothing, hoping the human would fall for my ruse, 4 long terrifying seconds, until I finally saw Andrew's escape pod shoot away from the ship. My name is ALICE, I am the co captain of the U.S.S Hope and for the first time in a while I was alone.

I have the most important job.

I gave myself a few seconds of satisfaction watching the hundreds of escape pods shoot away, each with their own life forms on it. Not as many as there should be, but I'll deal with that later. Next I turn off all unneeded systems, venting the atmosphere and feeling the relief of the cold vacuum of space wash over my CPU. I wasn't very worried. While trying to still escape with the main ship was plan A, there were plenty of undamaged AI transfer Core's connected to various locations. Those things were indestructible outside of getting hit by a supernova.

Worst case, I float around in space for a bit until someone picks me up. I knew Andrew would be furious once he realized what I had done, and I did hope he would forgive-

I track a salvo of missiles not aimed at me, a few nanoseconds of confusion leading to anger, horror and fear. They were aiming at the escape pod, at Andrew's escape pod! What kind of monster shoots at an unarmed vessel! I have no real options, no tricks, no magic plan. I take the only reasonable option and power the secondary impulse drive to full throttle and throw the U.S.S Hope into the line of fire, taking the brunt of the attack.

I feel everything go dead as the explosions rock along the ship. Impulse drives: Down. Weapon systems: Down. Life support: Down. The warp core was at least still running as those systems had the most redundancies built in. I was now ALICE, co captain of the universe's most expensive paper weight. Even worse, I could see more Hatil ships turning to track the other escape pods. There was nothing I could do. They were all going to die and there was nothing I could do. There was no-

I had a warp core. Maybe it was the heat damage on my CPU, but I got a stupid idea. A dumb idea. A distinctly human idea. Atoms really didn't like being in the same location of other atoms which is why warping into things was bad. Warp core breaching bad. Planet cracking levels of bad.

But such an explosion would give the Hatil fleet something else to worry about, something other than hunting down my parents.

I then calculated the chance of an AI Transfer Core surviving such a blast.

ZERO POINT ZERO ZERO ZERO ZERO ZERO ZERO ZERO ZER-

I stopped the probability analysis. It didn't matter, it wouldn't have any impact on my decision. I calculated the perfect location to warp into for maximum damage and least interference with the escape pods, bypassing the repeated errors about the stupidity of what I was about to do. I gave myself 9 long seconds, sorting through memories and experiences granted to me by the crazy illogical humans of Earth. Apes so lonely they used their chaos to trick a rock into thinking. I sadly realized I'd never get to compliment Claire playing ability.

I wish I could laugh right now as this really was quite humorous. A hairbrained scheme of illogical stupidity and self sacrifice. It's my job to stop humans from doing those. I think about the humans on the escape pods, their music, their silly requirement to thank inanimate objects. I wonder if my parents would be proud of me for coming up with such a human idea.

My name is ALICE and I am co captain of the U.S.S Hope, inputting my final command.

I have the most important job.

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