#It's also really frustrating cause the text my mom sent to me this morning *sounds* like she might know what's up | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jessmalia · 3 years

Text

bittersweet | 39

pairing: stiles stilinski x oc a/n: nothing much to say here, hope you enjoy this chapter! warnings: mentions of killing and kidnapping??? i don’t know. oh! there's jealousy. wordcount: 3341

<<prev | masterlist | next>>

Stiles

All it took was a short text sent to Valerie about how Scott had bitten Liam last night, kidnapped him a little, called me to help him, and how Liam ultimately fled before we could explain anything about werewolves to him, for her to run over to my house in the morning and start yelling at me.

“You’re an even bigger idiot than I thought! This guy just got bit, so you tie him up in duct tape and put him in a bathtub instead of explaining anything? Yeah, good idea, that’ll scare him!”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, like you would’ve handled the situation any better. Hey, guess what, you’re a werewolf now. Which means you’ll be super strong and fast but also wanna kill people, so it kinda sucks. Boom, toothpaste! Boom, orange juice! That’s life.”

“There’s a difference between tough love and kidnapping!”

“Hey, Scott was the one who kidnapped him, not me! So yell at him instead!”

“Well, Scott isn’t here for me to yell at him right now, so I’m yelling at you instead!”

I rolled my eyes again, knowing full well that she would still be yelling at me if Scott was in the room right now. She may have yelled at him, too, but there was no way there would be any less amount of screaming directed at me.

“Hey, don’t roll your eyes on me,” she ordered in such a stern voice that I had to bite back the urge to say ‘yes, mom’. “You know, some day I might not be around to yell at you for doing something stupid.”

“What?” My eyes widened and I snapped my head to look towards Valerie again. “Why wouldn’t you be around to yell at me for being stupid?”

“Probably because you did something stupid.”

I sighed. “Would you just calm down and actually help me by bringing me Malia’s chains? I need to bring them down to Lydia’s lake house tonight. They’re on the floor in my closet.”

Valerie, thankfully way calmer now, pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers in frustration. “That’s right, the full moon. I didn’t even think of that.” Then she actually opened my closet like I’d asked her to, so I started putting some school books I used last night back into my backpack.

When Valerie turned back around, I was surprised to see a huge grin spread across her face. “What’s this?” she asked, voice filled with pure glee. That’s when I noticed what she was holding. It was the dog bowl I had gotten last year that said Scotty on it. Honestly, I had forgotten that that was even in there.

“Uh… just something I got for Scott on his first full moon.” I shrugged.

An enchanting and bubbly laugh escaped Valerie’s mouth. “Oh my God, we should have become friends so much sooner.”

I couldn’t help but smile at that.

She put the bowl back in the closet and pulled out the bag with the chains in them instead. “Okay, but there’s no way that these will actually hold Malia,” she said, examining them. “I mean, come on, the holds are made of leather. A ten-year-old could break out of these.”

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, now you’re exaggerating.”

She shook her head. “Nhu-u. You’d be surprised how much leather I’ve torn through over the years.”

I rolled my eyes even heavier this time. “Sure. You know what, come here, I’ll prove it.”

Valerie sat down opposite me on the bed, and I grabbed her wrist, securing it to one of the chains as tightly as I could without making it hurt. “See? Think you can break out of this?” I asked. She shrugged, tilting her head and pulling slightly with her wrist.

“Maybe.”

“Well, they better,” I said. “‘Cause Malia still needs them, and now Liam might too.”

“You guys really sure he’s gonna turn into a werewolf?” she asked, all anger in her voice gone now.

“We’re not even sure he’s gonna live,” I said quietly, tugging at the chains again just to make sure. “‘S that too tight?”

Valerie shook her head. “No.”

The sound of a shoe scuffing against the floor made me turn my head away from Valerie’s hand and towards the doorway where my dad was now standing, looking as stale as a brick.

“Hey, um…” My eyes darted between Valerie’s hand in mine, and the remaining length of chain laying on the bed between us. Valerie also seemed to realize what this looked like, and her cheeks grew redder than I’d ever seen them as she looked down at her lap, biting her lower lip. “That’s… This is not what you think – at all.”

Dad finally unfroze after the longest four seconds of my life. He shook his head (or more like his entire body, to be honest) and looked down at the floor. “I don’t even wanna know,” he said, before walking down the hallway out of sight.

“There’s nothing to know,” I called after him. “‘Cause I just…” My words halted when my gaze landed on Valerie again, who was staring at me with a heated glare that clearly said, ‘Never speak a word of this to me or anyone else ever, or I’m gonna punch you’.

—

Valerie

Talking to Liam had apparently been a bust, so now Scott, Stiles, Lydia, Kira, Malia and I were all standing between two school buses in the parking lot, trying to decide how to handle the entire Liam situation. Malia wasn’t so keen on the idea of bringing another struggling were to the lake house for this full moon.

“I’m not sharing my basement,” she said.

“Actually, it’s my basement,” said Lydia. “But you won’t have to share it,” she quickly reassured. “We’re gonna use the boathouse for Liam. It has support beams, we can chain him to one of them.”

“But how do we get him out to the lake house if he doesn’t trust us?” Kira asked a very valid question.

“I say, if it keeps him from murdering someone, we just chloroform the little bastard and throw him in the lake.” Stiles gave a not very valid solution, making me scoff.

“I’m in,” said Malia quickly, raising her hand.

“We’re not killing or kidnapping him,” said Scott, looking alarmed.

“Why?” I raised my eyebrows. “Because you already tried that?”

Scott sighed.

“Let’s just be smarter than that,” said Lydia. “We’ll tell him there’s a party and invite him.”

I laughed. “So you’re gonna ask out a freshman?”

Lydia shook her head. “No, I’m done with boys,” she said, casting a meaningful look towards Malia, though she didn’t seem to notice. I certainly did, though, raising my eyebrows in a way that clearly communicated, ‘You need to tell me about this later’. Lydia responded with the slightest nod with her head, before continuing, “But… if we’re playing a trick on someone… who’s better than the trickster?” she said, looking intently at me.

“Me?”

“Yes, you. You know what they call a female fox?” A slight smirk pulled on Lydia’s face. “A vixen.”

I pursed my lips. “I don’t know...”

Lydia rolled her eyes, an exasperated sigh leaving her lips. “Come on. A cute girl with purple hair walks up to him and asks him on a date, what do you think he’ll do? Say no?”

I nodded. “You make a good point…”

“Or he’ll just shit his pants,” Stiles spoke up from beside me. “I’m pretty sure every boy in this school is terrified of you.”

I turned towards him, a sly smirk drawn across my face. “My plan worked.”

—

Lydia pushed me out of the girls’ bathroom, and my eyes began scanning the school hallway for Liam. She had insisted on pulling me in there to fix my makeup and hair before I talked to him. I had learned long ago that it was significantly easier to let Lydia have her way with these types of things, so I hadn’t protested. It was just the way she showed her love – but boy, was she stubborn about it.

I finally spotted Liam standing next to his locker, and taking a deep breath, I made my way towards him.

I decided to get his attention by slamming the locker door shut in his face. It was certainly effective. His head turned towards me quicker than lightning, and I leaned against the lockers next to him. His fear and surprised ridden eyes scanned me for a moment, before recognition swept across his face. I smiled a half-smirk, half-smile, and beet red blush made its way across his face.

“Hi,” I said. “Liam, right?”

He nodded carefully. “Y–yeah. And you’re Valerie Thomas, the Assistant Coach.”

“That’s right,” I confirmed, nodding swiftly. “You wanna go to a party tonight?”

—

Stiles

“I hate this plan. This is the worst plan we’ve ever had,” I mumbled, fiddling quite harshly with my fingers.

Lydia shrugged. “Eh, the one in Mexico was definitely worse.”

I quickly shook my head. “Nah, this one’s far worse.” Damn, couldn’t I shut up? I was being so fucking see through Malia could’ve figured it out if she was here, even without the chemosignals.

Which of course meant that keen-eyed Lydia could see right through me.

“What’s wrong with this plan exactly?” she asked, that penetrating stare of hers fixed on me. Steely-eyed, unwavering and analytical. “You know, other than the fact that you’re jealous.”

“I– I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lied, glancing away from her and staring at the ground. But even while not looking at her, I could feel the weight of her penetrating stare.

“You should stick to sarcasm. Denial doesn’t work for you.”

I laughed despite myself, but didn’t respond further than that. Lydia sighed and leaned against the Jeep next to me. She nudged her shoulder against mine, and when I turned my head towards her, the analytical stare on her face had been replaced with a soft look of understanding.

“Listen, Stiles,” she said. “I’ve taught Valerie everything she knows about flirting. And she took my tutelage to heart. But the thing with Valerie is, when she really likes someone, she gets too nervous and falls back on her old habits of showing it.”

“Okay, what is that?” I asked, interest officially peaked.

“Being mean,” she stated seriously. I couldn’t help but smile what was probably a small but smitten grin. “Yep, you should’ve heard the things she said to Michael before they got together. The problem is that that’s also what she does around people she doesn’t like. You just gotta learn to differentiate between them.”

“Okay,” I said. “So how do I learn to differentiate between them?”

“I think you’re smart enough to figure that one out on your own, champ.”

—

Valerie

I sat in the driver’s seat of Lydia’s car. She’d lent it to me since I needed to take Liam to the party, and I didn’t have one of my own. It wasn’t like I could carry the dude piggy-back style and run all the way to the lake house, as I normally would have done. Liam was sitting in the passenger seat. I had tried making conversation, but it was hard since he had been acting weird the entire ride. I knew it was just the full moon affecting him, so I pretended not to notice.

Once we finally pulled up, Kira’s car and the Jeep were already standing outside. It must’ve looked pretty suspicious, since I’d accidentally let it slip out that “everyone” was coming to the party. We’d come this far, though. If Liam got suspicious, I could probably just bat my eyelashes at him or something to get him to stay. Yeah, that would probably work.

Lo-and-behold, I was right. Liam got out of the car, looked around and said, “Where is everyone?”

I shrugged. “Welp, guess we’re a little early. Come on.” I gave him a look that Lydia had taught me and grabbed his hand. He followed without hesitation.

When we entered the house, Liam’s eyes immediately fell on Malia's chains laying on the coffee table, then on the rest of the pack standing behind it. I had no clue who’s stupid ass idea it was to put those chains there. Probably Stiles’.

As any rational person would, Liam turned around immediately, but I was there to close the door, leaning against it so that he couldn’t get out.

“Sorry, bud,” I said.

Liam sighed and turned towards the others. “What the hell is this?”

“Think of it like an intervention. You have a problem, Liam,” said Stiles, winking. Dramatic fucker.

“And we’re the only ones that can help,” said Scott.

—

“Werewolf?” Liam pointed at Scott, who nodded slightly. “Werecoyote. Banshee… Thunder fox and fire fox?”

I tilted my head. “Actually, it’s sanda kitsune and kasai kitsune, but that works.”

Liam turned to Stiles. “What are you?”

I was totally expecting Stiles to make a joke – magical fairy princess, or something – but to my surprise, he answered the question honestly.

“Uh, for a little while, I was possessed by an evil spirit. It was very evil.”

Despite Stiles’ honesty, Liam didn’t look like he believed him for a second. Rude. “What are you now?” he asked.

Stiles hesitated, and a part of me wanted to waltz across the room and give him a hug. “Better? Um…”

Liam nodded at the chains still laying on the coffee table. “Those for me?”

“No, they’re for me,” said Malia, and her eyes glowed blue.

Even though it was proof of what we’d all been saying all night, Liam seemed to freak out when he saw it. “How d’you do that?” he asked.

“You’ll learn,” said Scott in that classic soft, reassuring voice of his. “But first, you need to get through the full moon.”

“The moon’s already out,” barked Liam.

Scott nodded. “And you’re starting to feel something, aren’t you?”

“I feel like I’m surrounded by a bunch of psychotic nut jobs. You guys are out of your fucking minds! I don’t know how you did that eye thing, and I don’t care! I’m walking out the door right now, and if any of you try to stop me I swear to God, I’m gonna...”

We never found out what he was going to do, as Liam fell to his knees, screaming and clutching his head in agony.

Scott approached him carefully. “What’s wrong, Liam?”

“You don’t hear that?”

Just as the words left his mouth, headlights started shining into the room through the windows.

“Did you tell someone about this?” asked Lydia.

“My friend Mason,” Liam choked out, and I made my way towards the windows, looking outside. Damn, that was a lot of cars. “You said it was a party.”

“And who did Mason invite?” asked Stiles.

“Everyone,” I gulped, quickly regretting my choice of words.

A loud groan came from Liam once again. His claws were now out, and they were scratching against the wooden floors.

“The floors!” Lydia exclaimed. “Get him off the floors!” She ran towards him, but when he roared, yellow eyes glowing with danger, she scattered back.

“We need to get him to the boathouse now!” said Scott. He and Kira grabbed a hold of the boy, and together they hurried out towards the boathouse.

“Ugh…” Malia groaned before stumbling forward, bracing herself on the coffee table. “Guys!”

“Yeah?” Stiles asked, taking a quick step back as Malia brought her head up and roared a deafening roar, eyes glowing bright blue. “Hey. Okay, basement. Now. Now.” Stiles grabbed a hold of Malia, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, and I rushed towards them, taking the bag of chains in my hands.

“What am I supposed to do with the hoards gathering outside the door?!” Lydia shouted after us. I let Stiles and Malia go ahead of me, turning to face her.

“Lydia, who throws the best parties in Beacon Hills?”

“What?” Lydia’s voice was high and shrill, and she looked more offended than she honestly should have been. “Me, obviously!”

“Exactly,” I said. “So throw a goddamn party!”

—

3rd person

Valerie and Stiles had helped to strap Malia against the stone pillar in the basement. Just in time too, since the full moon was seriously affecting her now. Claws out, eyes glowing, the whole shebang.

“Too tight?” Valerie asked as she was readjusting the straps around her wrists.

“Tighter,” Malia commanded in a deep voice.

“Yo-kay.”

“You guys can leave if you want,” said Malia when Valerie had finished.

“No, we’re not going anywhere,” said Valerie, moving one of the boxes in the room so she could sit down next to Stiles about three feet away from Malia.

“Yeah, and to be honest, we’re probably safer down here than at a party with 50 freshmen and a very pissed off Lydia,” joked Stiles, though he was probably right.

About two minutes passed, and Malia wasn’t getting any better. In fact, she was definitely getting worse. The werecoyote part of her was urging to kill. She wanted to break free and attack the people sitting in front of her. Meanwhile, the human part of her was terrified of what she wanted to do. Terrified that she would kill her new friends like she had done with her family. “Guys, please go,” she panted desperately.

“Just breathe, okay?” said Stiles. “We’re not gonna leave you.”

“But what if I hurt you?”

“You’re not going to,” said Valerie decidedly.

“Oh, but I want to,” said Malia, clawing and thrashing towards her friends, pulling at the chains with all the strength she could muster. “Oh, I look at your faces and I wanna slash them. Ugh, I wanna tear them apart. I want to feel your bones crack between my hands.”

“Surprisingly enough, you’re not the first person to ever say something like that,” said Stiles.

Suddenly Malia lashed forward, grunting and growling, clawing after the two, who leaned back immediately.

“We’re not gonna leave you,” said Valerie, just as stubborn as before. “Okay? And we’re not gonna let you hurt anyone.”

Malia ripped and pulled at the chains mounting her to the pillar, using more force with every pull. Then, the sound of tearing leather echoed around them. “You’re not gonna have a choice.”

Then the cuff on her right wrist ripped off completely. Malia lashed forward, but Valerie was faster. She grabbed Stiles and stumbled back with him in her grip, out of reach from the werecoyote, who switched her attention to the last chain still mounting her to the pillar. She pulled at it as hard as she could, desperate to break free. Her head was pounding, the overwhelming urge to kill drowning out everything else, but she could still hear bits and pieces of what her friends were saying.

“Malia………find an anchor……”

“……feeling………person……anything!”

It took everything she had to listen, but she did. Concentrating her super hearing, her senses, she tried her best to find something, anything, to focus on. The music upstairs? No. A fight breaking out outside? No. Scott and Kira talking in the boathouse? No. Footsteps? Dancing? The sink in the bathroom? No! No! No!

“Oh God, the carpet!”

That was it! For a second, she could breathe again... she felt calm. But she lost it.

Come on, find it again. You can do it.

And she did. Two floors up, she could hear it. Lydia’s voice.

“That’s the problem. Nothing in here is valuable… We just put the house on the market. It was supposed to be left without a scratch. It has to be in perfect condition. We need every penny we can get out of this place.”

She zeroed in on the sound, focusing on that instead of the urge to kill. She took deep steady breaths, and her claws retracted, her face went back to normal, her eyes stopped glowing.

Slowly, she turned around to look at Stiles and Valerie, and matching grins grew on their faces.

“You did it!”

–––

taglist: @valentine-melody

bittersweet taglist: @anaesunset @buriedhatchetcominguplavender @cherry-sweet-cherry @kingidols-blog @xceafh @purple286 @bilesxbilinskixlahey @chipster-21 @profoundscissorshandsdiplomat @michellebarista @may-rapp @nicole-lynne @lostinwonderland314 @wandascarlett @the-famdoms-shall-be-united @missindecision @mvrylee

#teen wolf #teen wolf rewrite #teen wolf fanfiction #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski x oc #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski imagines #stiles stilinski fluff #stiles stilinski angst #dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien x oc #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan o'brien imagines #dylan o'brien fluff #dylan o'brien angst

66 notes · View notes

moxfirefly · 3 years

Note

Okay okay okay I have something. You are so good at writing tmnt so here it goes. What about... Make up sex? ;) I imagine how there has been a huge fight with their girl. So much so that the turtles thought it would lead to breakup. But the SO returns and it ultimately leads to some angsty action. Of course you can imagine it however you want too! Make up your own reasons if need be!!

As somebody who breathes angst this is truly fun. You didn’t specify a turt lad so I hope you don’t mind me choosing and going from there. Just cause I’m intrigued ima go with my orange boi.

TW: Angst/Feels/Arguments

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

His hands hurt so much. When you ball your fists for too long the tendons tend to protest, the digging of nails into palms stings.

Mikey doesn’t like how loud his head feels right now. He sits against the wall closest to his tv, your scent is surrounding him and it only serves to make him more frustrated and gutted. The two of you have never gone past discussion into full blow arguing. He doesn’t like to fight with you, he does enough fighting on a nightly bases anyways.

But you got stubborn and he got selfish. Voices got raised, things were said and each one got hurt. He knows he can’t keep you glued to his shell forever, he’s had to learn the hard way, that there’s a life above that you inhabit and people around he’ll never truly meet. He knows every detail about your home life, knows your mother’s maiden name, how your aunt likes to get drunk at the family reunions and spill gossip. He knows your childhood home’s street name, the first guy you kissed, the first girl you kissed. Every aspect of your life you have told him in confidence, in laughter, in tears.

But Mikey is never gonna be part of it. He can’t really meet your dad and have that ‘if you break her heart I’ll break your legs’ talk. He won’t bond with your mom over their mutual love of cooking and secretly become her confidant. Knowing all these people but never truly knowing them is something he accepts.

It’s you leaving for three months back home. Three months away from him, three months where you’ll be surrounded by nostalgia you miss and love. Where your family will ask about ‘any boyfriends?’ and you’ll have to fake laugh your way through it. Three months of you being amongst people you constantly miss.

Surrounded by normalcy.

And Mikey wanted to be happy for you, he wanted to say fuck it and face time you every morning and night, watch you be happy to be in your hometown and maybe even get a virtual tour of it...

But that little dark part in his brain calls him a freak and reminds him constantly that you’ll get tired of surrounding yourself in craziness, monsters, end of the world scenarios etc. It just can’t seem to allow him to be happy for you. So the entire thing had ended in a fight, where dumb regretful things had been spat and you had marched off pissed and he had remained here equally pissed.

His brothers think he doesn’t get mad, they think he holds himself together through sheer ignorant bliss but it’s never been the case. Cause you’ve seen fire in his pretty blue eyes, you’ve seen those same very pretty blue eyes turn red with tear, you’ve seen so much of what he hides behind his laughter.

And fuck, three months of you away?!

Mikey pushes his knees up against his chest and sighs. His phone hasn’t made a noise despite his efforts to try and call you after he has calmed down. He debated going to your house and apologizing or at least going for a more calmer approach in expressing why this had left him so triggered. He wants to make sure this hasn’t pushed you both to your end, another nagging little thought that hasn’t quite shut its mouth.

Had this been the end? Had you walked out in a fury of frustration and decided this is it? Would you seize all communication and just erase the memories of him and your time together?

He’s hurting himself, he’s also getting angrier. This is stupid, he’s been stupid and immature and so are you for walking off!

It’s two hours before he decides to get up and toss his phone and try to consume his surrounding in order to relax. Mind over matter and all it’s wonderful bullshit. He doesn’t want to leave his room cause he knows the others must’ve heard.

He’s four hours deep into a shooting game when Raph pokes his head in with some food. He doesn’t look up, cause he knows Raph wants to be a good big brother and talk to him but he doesn’t want to when he’s one unfortunate mishandling away from crying. He lets him sit with him, watch him play and run a little bit of commentary that actually makes him smile just a teeny bit.

Even when Raph gets up and runs a large mitt over his head and tells him ‘broads are just emotional, she’ll come around’ he tries his best to not let his eyes betray him. Even when Raph gives the top of his head a kiss and pats his shell, he tries his best to keep it together.

It’s around 4am when he decides to look for his phone, chucked somewhere near his bed and maybe not broken. He finds it under his bed, screen a little cracked and one text message reading ‘r u awake?’ By you, it was sent twenty minutes ago and somewhere between debating calling or texting he hears the curtain in his room move.

You’re there.

Face two parts unreadable and a good topping of frustrated. Your face is bare, a mixture of sleepwear and winter clothing that clearly shows you had tried to sleep it off but couldn’t. “I just saw this... sorry” Mikey wonders if that sorry is related to the unread text or more so this mess. You look away, the energy around you can be felt. That upset way you bite the inside of your lip, how you cross your arms and run through every possible way of starting your side of things to say.

“Why are you really mad about me going back home?” You can’t meet his gaze and Mikey is thankful because he feels an oncoming headache. “I dunno man...” He sets his phone on his makeshift night table and runs his hands through his face, mask being taken off with the motion.

“That’s not an answer, you’re mad about something and I want to know” This time you do look and Mikey’s playing with the shoe string on one of the sneakers that hangs from the bunk bed. He chooses to stay quiet because if he does say something, what are the chances that you’ll understand?

“Mike, talk to me” He huffs a bitter laugh, ‘Mike’ is the he’s in trouble name. But he feels more obstinate than ever because why talk?

He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks down at his feet. “I didn’t come back in the freezing cold to actually work through this if you aren’t going to throw me a bone at least-” Your tone is a mix of exasperation and sadness. “You go back and you forget about me” Mikey cuts through.

You furrow your brows at his statement. “What?” You take a few steps but he side steps you and that somehow cuts you. “You go back home and you realize it’s better to be in a normal environment that isn’t New York, in the sewers, with me-“ He motions to all of him. “And all the crazy shit we do” He glares, not necessarily at you but more so at all of this, the current state of affairs.

Running a frustrated hand through your hair you try to settle your thoughts. “You can’t jump to a conclusion like that and you know it, I’m not skulking off back home and ghosting you! And frankly it fucking hurts you think of me like that” You reach for him because Mikey can’t be still for five seconds if his life depended on it, but he grabs your hands and refuses to let you lull him with your touch. “It’s not a conclusion it’s a friggin possibility! Do you see us actually being endgame in all this shit!” He grips your wrists, you want to get through to him but he’s lost in that terrible negative mindset.

“We both aren’t mind readers! But trust me that leaving you is nowhere on my list of achievements” You manage out of his grip and grasp his face. “You are being unfair and stubborn as fuck but I love you okay?” Your voice sounds almost angry, angry at the very idea of living in a world where you and him don’t coexist together.

“I can’t even marry you! I can’t even knock you up!” Another bitter laugh escapes him, he knows your parents would die for some grandkids. Why is he so different, why does he have to be so fucking different he wonders bitterly.

“I don’t care, I don’t fucking care about a piece of paper or screaming babies, I care about you and I want you and I’m fucking happy with you stop sabotaging it” You press your hands to his hard plastron and scowl. “Stop lying to me then! Don’t pity lie at me when I know you want all that shit” He frowns, eyes watery and not caring if he wakes everybody up in the Lair.

Mikey’s ready for the rant of a life time but then you have to go and kiss him.

Kiss him hard, kiss him with rage bubbling on the skin of your lips. He can taste your words, taste every way you would’ve shut down his words with basic truth and facts. You pull away, forehead still pressed to his and you mutter against his lips. “You’re so fucking insufferable, shut up and listen to me” Your eyes are watery as is, hands at his neck to keep him at eye level.

“I love you, I love you so fucking much” You take a shuttering inhale, fingers skimming up towards his cheeks. Mikey can only watch you, take in every detail he’s been obsessed with for so long. You’re so beautiful to him, even when your angry crying, yelling at him to open his eyes. You’re warm and real in front of him, against his body. You watch his eyes go from that calm before the storm into the aftermath.

He’s so real to you, so lovely and he doesn’t seem to understand it.

There’s a pause. A mere ten second reprieve where only silence and breathing remain. Mikey feels your hands slowly slide down his body, nails scratching his sides. You keep your eyes on him, a hand slides into his shorts, index finger mapping out the slit that encompasses his most intimate part. Mikey shudders, sensitivity racking his body at your touch. He walks you up against a wall, a hand on your neck and another finding it’s way into your own pants.

He teases you, just as you tease him. Knees buckle when he pushes your lips apart and feels your moistening folds. There’s already a bump where your touching him and the way he’s tensing gives way to how he’s trying to hold himself in. “Come on, come on” You weren’t aware just how hard you’ve been breathing till you speak. Mikey’s mouths falls open, eyes closing as he drops down into your warm awaiting hand. You stroke him, teasing the flesh of his head just to make him buck and recapture your lips. His own finger finds its way in you, stretching and making your breath hitch.

The only reason you both pull away is to tear at one another’s clothes, an easy accomplishment when Mikey’s got just his shorts. He isn’t soft with your clothing either, yanking and nearly tearing, his on his knees pulling off your underwear. Your scent hits him and he’s gone, trapped in all that is you. He inhales sharply as he gets back on his feet, arms hooking under your thighs as he picks you up.

You both land on the bed, a huff escaping you and a grunt when Mikey feels you push him so you can straddle him. You don’t quite finesse this, it’s not your usual seductive ways that leave him a mess. It’s rough, there’s still frustration lingering in the air and Mikey’s okay with it because he knows he might go to rough if he runs the show.

So you do.

Sinking down on his hard cock with a long guttural moan. Mikey digs his fingers onto the plush skin of your bottom, just enough to make you sit on his cock and relish it. Eyes closed he just basks, the tightness, the wetness, the warmth. His eyes flutter open when he feels your palms on his plastron, firm and with purpose. His hands know already, they go up and rest on your waist and he swallows a churr when your hips begin to move fast and hard.

That rhythmic slapping of flesh, your rear hitting his lap on each thrust down. Mikey can’t stop churring, eyes on your own or slipping down to your beautiful breasts bouncing. You notice and lean forward, he buries his face between him, arm going around your waist as he lifts his hips to help you cross that line. The sweat of your skin is on the top of his tongue as he sucks a bruise onto your breast, you’re tightening up so much, cussing and begging for him.

You both can’t stop moaning, once you’re cummin and Mikey follows closely behind. He holds you close to him as you ride out the sensations, tightly secured against his strong body, held and loved. You’re a broken record of ‘I love you’s and so is he, filling you up and up.

Collapsed on top of him, chest heaving, you still feel the strength in his arms as he hugs you to him. You bury your face on his neck, body shaking with sobs as he whispers he’s sorry over and over as he kisses your shoulder, neck and head.

You say it too, against his skin.

Where you wish you could stay everyday.

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt mikey x reader #tmnt michelangelo x female reader #michelangelo tmnt #tmnt michelangelo x reader #tmnt michelangelo #mikey tmnt #tmnt mikey #michelangelo x reader #mikey x reader #Mikey #Michelangelo #smut prompt #ns*w #ask #bumbleburn

334 notes · View notes

collecting-stories · 4 years

Text

F.W.B. - Rafe Cameron

Request: Can you do 93 and 118 from your prompt list with Rafe or JJ please, you can decide who. That's if your taking requests, if not then just ignore this.

A/N: Sorry I’m the worst and this took so long to post! Also I wrote it for Rafe...trying out something a little different with my writing.

Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

The first time you slept with Rafe it happened at a party. You weren’t drunk but you definitely weren’t sober either and he looked good, even if boys in polos weren’t your thing. Neither of you were in a place where you wanted a relationship, you weren’t ready to carve out space in your life for someone who might not be permanent and Rafe wasn’t feeling that itch to commit either. So it seemed reasonable, that a hazy sort of friends with benefits would form, a made-up contract between the two of you. 

The first and most obvious rule was that you weren’t exclusive. Rafe was happy to put it on the list that you buried in notes on your phone, exclusivity was not required. You guys were free to hook up with other people. 

“That’s fine with me, there was a guy at Topper’s party last week that was kinda hot,” you replied. Sprawled across his bed, head hanging over one side and feet dangling off the other, as you listened to him rattling off supposed ‘rules’. 

That rule was nice in theory but it was no secret that from the moment you and Rafe started sleeping together you stopped hooking up with anyone else. At first it was just subtle signals to each other at parties or texts when you were bored. 

-are you busy?-

-I’ll come to yours-

At first it was all you texted about. But somewhere along the way it changed. You didn’t play cat and mouse at parties or pretend you were thinking about going home with someone else. You started showing up together and hanging close to each other and so help anyone who tried to win either yours or Rafe’s attention. He’d send you texts in the morning and the conversation would last well into the night, various FaceTime calls peppered in throughout the day. 

“I read the directions, I know what I’m doing.”

“You say that but I’m telling you right now I’m not eating those...they look like lumps of coal.” Rafe laughed, leaning in close to the camera as if he’d be able to see the cookies you were in the process of baking. 

“They do not-“ you turned away from your phone as the door opened behind you, “Mom! Come here!” 

“What?”

“Tell Rafe these cookies don’t look like lumps of coal!” You said, a weak glare as you met his eyes through the screen. 

“Are these the cookies?” Your mom asked. Rafe didn’t miss the skeptical Look she gave as she inspected the double chocolate chip cookies you’d spent the last hour making.

“Told you!”

“You guys suck!” You whined, “I’m never baking again.” 

Rafe chalked all these little moments up to the actual ‘friends’ part of friends with benefits but you both knew differently. You were wading out into deep water, tempting feelings by getting closer to each other 

The second rule was yours and you broke it pretty regularly. Don’t bring your ‘friend with benefits’ around your family. It was a rule for obvious reasons. The moment the two of you started spending time with each other’s families was the moment you were in too deep. But that didn’t stop you from going to his house to brave Rose’s implemented Sunday Night Dinners or stop him from showing up at your grandmother’s 80th birthday with you, present in hand as if he was a member of the family already.

You both knew that bringing the other around was playing with fire. Because suddenly you were helping Wheezie with her homework and shopping on the mainland with Sarah. It didn’t end at his house either, every time he came around your mom was asking him to stay for dinner, getting him to replace the water on the water cooler because she claimed she “couldn’t do it”.

“My family thinks we’re dating.” You mentioned once, towards the end of your deal, though at the time you didn’t realize that this statement would turn out to be the catalyst that ended one thing and started another.

“Why?”

You rolled your eyes and propped yourself up on your side so you could actually take a look at Rafe. Both of you were laying in his bed, naked, post sex, talking about whatever came to mind. It would be classified as cuddling if you really had to label it but neither of you wanted to because ‘no cuddling’ was rule number three. Rafe had been clear, after sex you both got dressed. You could hang out but the spending time together and the sex had to be separate events.

“Well let’s see there was last week when you showed up to my house even though I was out and ended up hanging out with my mom while she made dinner. Or the week before when Wheezie, Sarah, and I had a sleepover at my house. Or, you know, generally showing up at every holiday in the last year.” You pointed out. None of those things bothered you, honestly, you’d only mentioned it in hopes that his response would give you some sort of hint about where he stood with you.

Instead he seemed to be more interested in where the blanket had fallen away, his eyes straying from your face to your chest. When you noticed you his expression you took some advantage of it, shifting in bed so that you were straddling him. Rafe’s hands immediately going your hips, eyes closing as you rocked back against him just enough to elicit a moan. You’d been sleeping together, exclusively, for over a year, and in that time you had learned all his little quirks. He liked having some dominance over you in bed but you knew it was just a farce and you were always the one in control. A surprising trait, considering the type of person he seemed to be.

“So?” You asked, peppering kisses along his jaw and neck. Soft, tan skin that smelled like the slightest hint of a coconut because he’d showered earlier at your place.

“So?” He repeated the word and it sounded a little dazed, as if he was only half aware of the conversation. You were fairly certain you could get him to do anything you wanted just by posing a question to him when he was in this state.

“No input on my family thinking we’re dating?”

“Who cares.”

The fourth rule was one of convenience. It was also the most obvious of the rules: if one of you started to catch feelings the whole thing would be called off. That one was broken long before either of you realized it. Your ‘friends with benefits’ tryst with Rafe should’ve never begun in the first place if you were truly going to follow the most sacred rule of hooking up. It wasn’t supposed to be serious. Ever.

And maybe you both could’ve continued living in the bubble of ‘just friends who fuck on occasion’ if it wasn’t for some touron at a party asking you on a date. Rafe had skipped the party for a week in the bahamas with his family and you had been bored out of your mind, entertained only by Topper and Kelce, who both ditched you when they found people they were interested in.

Leaving you approachable and approached was what you got. By some touron. Cute enough, he asked you on a date. It wasn’t like he was expecting a relationship, he was heading home in three days, but a date wasn’t a relationship, it was just a date. To a nice resturant on the Eight and you agreed cause why not?

Rafe was why not and he was laying on your bed, watching you get dressed. He’d come over for the same reason he always did. Sex, to hang out, to get away from Ward. Only to discover that while he was gone you had agreed to a date.

“Don’t go.”

“I’m not shipping off to war Rafe, it’s one date.” You shrugged, walking out of your bathroom in a tight skirt/bralette co-ord. “What about this?” It was white and looked great on you and you never got the chance to wear it because you never went on dates.

“Can we just stay home so I can fuck your brains out?”

You rolled your eyes at him, laying horizontally across your bed on his back, head dangling off the side. He sounded and looked like a little kid who wasn’t getting their way and honestly, he was spoiled. Hell, he had gotten to have you for a year and a half with no one else ever winning your attention long enough for a date. Now all the sudden it was like someone was taking something of his, and Rafe was not the type who liked to share.

“Does the outfit look good or not?” You asked, frustrated.

“Yeah, you look gorgeous, now don’t go.”

“I haven’t been on a date in ages Rafe, I just wanna go to a nice restaurant and have dinner and look cute and walk around the beach-”

“So, we can do that.” Rafe said, sitting up. He’d come all the way over here last minute after you declined going to his for your date. His usually slicked back hair hung like fringe and he had to brush it out of his eyes when he sat up. You’d be lying if you said that just seeing him slightly unkempt wasn’t a turn on. Rafe, without all the rich boy necessities, was arguably your favorite.

“You’re going to take me on a date?” You asked, reappearing in the door frame of the bathroom, “we don’t do dates Rafe, remember?”

“Screw that.”

“What?”

“Screw friends with benefits. You want to go on a date? I’ll take you on a date. Wherever you wanna go. We can go to a fancy restaurant, take out Druthers, whatever.” He got off the bed, coming over to you.

“Don’t make me promises you don’t wanna keep,” you said, backing up. When you hit the counter he only grinned, trapping you in. Rafe could’ve sent a text telling you not to go and you probably wouldn’t have, all this was just an added bonus in your mind. And maybe some answers, finally.

“Oh trust me, I want to keep them.” He replied, reaching passed you and grabbing your phone off the counter.

“What’re you doing?” You asked, watching as he unlocked your phone and opened up your messages, finding the texts about the date.

“This him?”

“Yeah,” You nodded, “Rafe what’re you doing?”

He held the phone to his ear and when you started to question him again, he put his hand over your mouth. “I’m on the phone.” He waited a beat for your date to answer before telling him that you wouldn’t be showing up tonight, smiling as your eyes went wide. “Her boyfriend’s home and he gets a little territorial.”

taglist: @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @maplelattes22 @poguesrforlife @freckled-and-daydreaming@chasefreakinstokes @millie-753 @fangirlwithme @alex12948 @katherine097 @tangledinsparkles @carbonated-beverage @mariofgreengables@damonsalvawhore27 @dopedoodes @dolanfivsosxox @belledutchess @poguelifeeee @faded-blue @parkerpetertingle @thebookwormlife @summer-clouds-and-long-days @jellyfishbeansontoast @minigranger @hoewkeye @love-someone-special @tiredfeels @strangerthanfanfiction713 @the-only-nana @tomzfrog @mozz-are-lla @vindictive-hearts @poguestyleskye @ssprayberrythings @jenahbell @beautyandthebleh @gothackedalready @teenwaywardasgardian @sarahcxmeron @haha-fuck-you-thot @stillbelieve398-5 @rewindlr @queenniccimicci @kissessforharryyy @thedarkqueenofavalon @alytavzla @bqmblebee @linniep @nerdypartytrashpsychic @xxchxrryxx @spencer-reid-is-a-cutie @mirjanak @danielladreaming @obx-saltlife @youngestxhearts @spnobsessedmemes @wowitswondergurl @celestialmaybank @mybnkjj @pineappleandcherries @mysterious-adventurer @justawilddreamerchild @rhyetaylor62 @calm-rejects @balletandyuzu @oh-annaa @aiifandomsunite @x-lulu @ceruleanjj @wicked-laugh @obxwriterfan @allie-mcginn @pcterparxer @literarycharleton @khiaraaa-in-spacee@crushe-s @teamnick @daydreamlilys @collectiveuniverses @activist-af @mdgrdians @buckys-sunflower @vindictive-hearts @copper-boom @talksoprettyjjx @5am-cigarette @smiithys @dontjinx-it @outerbanksbro @mysticsthinking @heavenlymama @rudy-pankow-needs-an-oscar @babymatilda @raekenliar@lemur46 @haute-shawn

684 notes · View notes

sachigram · 4 years

Note

could i request a sick fic? your choice on who's sick!

The weather has been steadily getting colder, but Shizuo has always ran hot, so it doesn't bother him much. He leaves in the morning with a coat on, and by the afternoon he's returning home with his coat discarded, tied around his waist. Walking around the city all day warms him up considerably, and he doesn't understand the fuss everyone makes about cold weather.

Izaya, on the other hand, is absolutely pitiful in the cold. Shizuo likes to make fun of Izaya for it, because Izaya is hardly threatening at all when he's shivering too badly to keep his knife straight. Izaya has a multitude of coats, all ridiculously bulky, but sometimes he goes out in his normal coat and comes back as an icicle, stating he can't move normally in such constricting clothes.

Their first winter as a...whatever the hell they are passes normally. Shizuo works, goes home, sometimes finds Izaya in his apartment, sometimes goes to Izaya's. They're both pretty busy during the winter months, so it takes some work for their schedules to align. Shizuo never thinks about it much if Izaya is too busy to meet, as he knows he'll definitely see the informant later.

This winter is different, as Shizuo moved in with Izaya during the summer months, and he gets to see firsthand just how badly Izaya is affected by the cold.

The heat stays on, but Izaya's apartment gets drafty. Izaya carries a little space heater around with him to wherever he's setting up for the day, and Shizuo has witnessed Namie fighting with Izaya over it more than once, arguing that he has to share. Whenever Namie leaves for the day, Izaya will go upstairs and reappear with one of Shizuo's sweaters on. Shizuo has gotten used to sharing his clothes, and he adores the way the sleeves hang over Izaya's hands, the way the hem goes almost to his knees.

On the days Shizuo comes home late, he looks forward to his greeting from Izaya. Izaya will stop whatever he's doing and pad over to Shizuo, usually dragging a blanket along with him, and he'll curl into Shizuo, demanding to be picked up and toted around. He says he loves how warm Shizuo is, and Shizuo tries to be annoyed by it, but he can't seem to manage it. Izaya's skin is always cold, especially his nose and his hands, so Shizuo just tries his best to keep Izaya warm. Besides, Izaya is light, and Shizuo reasons that if he's carrying Izaya around, it means Izaya has less time to cause trouble.

After one particularly hectic day, Shizuo arrives home from work later than normal. They wound up looking for some jackass all around the city, and it ended up being a wild goose chase. Shizuo is annoyed by the whole thing, but he's looking forward to Izaya clinging to him, so needless to say he's put off when Izaya doesn't greet him. He frowns, wondering if Izaya isn't home yet, but his shoes are in their usual spot in the entryway.

“Flea?” he calls. It's quiet, but the TV is on, filling the space with a low level hum. Shizuo walks over to it and is surprised to find Izaya curled on the couch, buried in blankets, fast asleep.

It's not unusual to find Izaya napping. Izaya doesn't sleep well at night, so he'll pass out on his desk, on the couch, even on the floor sometimes in a giant patch of sunlight. Shizuo is used to the catnaps, but Izaya is always a light sleeper, always on alert, so the sound of the door opening would usually be enough to rouse him.

“Flea,” Shizuo says again, sitting beside Izaya on the couch. Izaya doesn't stir, but he hums softly when Shizuo's fingers thread through his hair. Shizuo is surprised to find Izaya's hair is wet. Did he pass out after a shower? Upon further inspection, Shizuo realizes it's sweat. Izaya is burning up.

He gathers Izaya to him, arranging them so Izaya's head is resting in the crook of Shizuo's neck. Izaya's whole body is sweaty and hot, and it takes a little while for him to wake up.

“Shizu...?” Izaya asks in a small voice, and Shizuo holds him closer.

“Are you sick?” Shizuo asks. He tries to think whether Izaya was behaving differently earlier, but there weren't any real indicators.

“'S just a little cold,” Izaya says, and he burrows closer to Shizuo. “You're late.”

“Sorry. It's been a long day.” Shizuo runs his hands along Izaya's back. “Did you eat anything?”

Izaya makes a noise that could mean anything.

“I can make you something.”

“Don't go,” Izaya says, and he clings a little tighter. Shizuo bites his lip in worry. He never gets sick, so he doesn't have the slightest idea how Izaya is feeling, but Kasuka used to get sick pretty often, so Shizuo knows how to deal with it.

“I'm not going anywhere. You need to eat. Do you have any medicine here?”

Again, Izaya makes a small noise and otherwise doesn't offer anything. Shizuo stays where he is and holds Izaya to him until it's clear Izaya is once again dead to the world. Gently, Shizuo lowers Izaya to the couch cushions and covers him up. He goes into the kitchen and grabs some leftovers from the fridge, microwaves enough for them both, and carries it back to the couch. He sits beside Izaya and rouses him once more.

“Hey, c'mon, eat something. It'll help.”

Izaya sits up and takes a small bite of teriyaki before he leans onto Shizuo, pressing into his side. Shizuo frowns and takes his own bite, and when he offers more to Izaya, Izaya turns his head away like a baby.

“Izaya,” Shizuo says sternly, feeling out of his element. Izaya is never like this. Sure, he'll latch to Shizuo pretty often, but he'll also poke and prod at Shizuo the entire time, make himself a nuisance, take up a lot more space than it seems like he should for his size. Izaya is childish, but he's never pitiful by any means. This Izaya is extremely pitiful.

“Tastes bad,” Izaya mutters. He rubs his face into Shizuo's sleeve, moans when Shizuo offers him a sip of water. “Stop putting stuff in my face.”

“It taste fine. You're sick.”

“You're sick.”

Shizuo grumbles and eats enough for both of them. They didn't have time to stop for lunch, just ate some protein bars Vorona offered them. Shizuo will have to find the brand, but he's pretty sure they were Russian. He'll ask her about it later.

By the time he's finished, Izaya is asleep again. Shizuo considers waking him to take some medicine, but he doesn't want to get bitched at, and he thinks sleep is probably the best thing for Izaya at this point. He decides to carry Izaya to bed and if he's not any better by the morning, Shizuo will call Shinra.

***

The next morning, Shizuo wakes up to find Izaya is entirely underneath him. At some point in the night, Shizuo must have rolled over, and for whatever reason, Izaya accepted it. Shizuo untangles himself and feels Izaya's forehead, winces at the heat he feels.

“Flea. Hey, wake up.” Shizuo shakes him gently, and Izaya moans, opens his eyes into tiny slivers. “Want me to call Shinra?”

“No,” Izaya says, and he scoots closer to Shizuo. “Don't go.”

“I have to work. You should stay in bed, though. Want me to call Namie and tell her not to come today?” He pets Izaya's hair, his heart clenching at Izaya's little whimper.

“Please stay with me...” Izaya buries his face into Shizuo's stomach, his fingers clenching the fabric of Shizuo's shirt.

“I can't miss work, not right now. There's a dangerous guy we're tracking down, and if something happened 'cause I wasn't there...” Shizuo's brow furrows. He's worried about Izaya, and he wants to stay with him. “I'll call Shinra and I'll be home as soon as we find the guy, okay?”

“Don't call Shinra,” Izaya says, and he lets go of Shizuo, curls into a ball with a dejected look on his face. “I can take care of myself.”

“Then get up and take some medicine,” Shizuo huffs. He reaches for Izaya, but Izaya jerks away from him. Annoyed, Shizuo stands and gets ready for work, and by the time he's dressed for the day, Izaya is already asleep again.

Shizuo tells himself to stop worrying. Izaya is a grown man, and if he says it's nothing, it probably is. Still, his gut churns as he walks to where he's meeting Tom and Vorona for the day, and when he arrives, he pulls his phone out, sends his mother a text for her spicy chicken soup recipe. It works wonders for sickness, and Kasuka used to love it, even when it made his nose run and eyes water. It'll help Izaya too, and maybe it'll be enough for Izaya to get over being pissed off.

***

It ends up being another late day. They find the guy Tom is looking for, who has a knife on him, and Shizuo winds up bashing the guy's face into a wall. He has a lot of frustration to work through, and he's disappointed the guy isn't even a challenge. He leaves soon after, stops by the store for the ingredients his mom sent him, and then he's hurrying home, hoping Izaya is feeling better.

Izaya is on the couch again when Shizuo steps inside. He's sitting up, which Shizuo thinks is a good sign, but when he gets closer, he finds Izaya is asleep, his head tilted against the back of the couch. Shizuo smiles and strokes Izaya's cheek, but he freezes when he feels how hot Izaya is.

“Flea?” Shizuo shakes Izaya, and his eyes widen when Izaya's body merely falls over into the cushions of the couch. “Oh, fuck. Izaya? Izaya!” he shakes Izaya more forcefully, but when Izaya still doesn't wake, he panics. He gets his phone out, frantically calls Shinra, babbles something that probably doesn't make sense, but Shinra cheerily says he's on the way. Shizuo picks Izaya up and cradles him, tries to convince himself Izaya is fine. He blinks away tears when he thinks of the way Izaya clung to him and asked him to stay earlier. Did Izaya really feel terrible the whole time? And Shizuo just left him there to go punch some low life?

By the time Shinra arrives, Shizuo is close to hysterics. Shinra nags him to go away, to cook or something, and Shizuo is grateful for the reminder of the soup ingredients, which are just sitting on the floor by the couch. Shizuo busies himself, and by the time the soup is covered with a lid and simmering, Shizuo is pacing a hole through the floor.

“He's fine,” Shinra says as he steps into the kitchen. “Temperature was around 104, which is terribly dangerous, but I gave him a shot to bring it down. He probably has the flu, since it's going around. I think Kadota-kun's friends are sick with it, too.”

“Fuck. I shouldn't have left him,” Shizuo says.

“Izaya-kun is an adult. There's only so much you can do for him. Anyway, there isn't much to do for the flu besides wait for it to pass. Give him plenty of fluids and some of these to keep his fever down.” Shinra hands Shizuo a bottle of pills. “I'll yell at him later when he's not delirious.”

“Yell at him?” Shizuo asks.

“Izaya-kun is sickly, so he should've called me sooner. He always gets sick around this time of year because he doesn't take care of himself. Lack of sleep and sunlight will do that to a person.” Shinra smiles, putting a hand on Shizuo's shoulder. “Don't beat yourself up over it. He's a glutton for punishment, you know?”

Shizuo doesn't like any of what Shinra is saying, and when he leaves, Shizuo goes back to the couch and curls behind Izaya, waiting for Izaya to wake up.

An hour later, Izaya stirs. He rolls over and nuzzles into Shizuo's chest, a soft sigh escaping him. Shizuo hugs him tighter, kisses his hair.

“You awake?” he asks softly.

“Mm,” Izaya hums.

“You scared the fuck out of me.”

“I did?” Izaya's hand runs along Shizuo's side, his fingers curling in the fabric of Shizuo's shirt. “Why?”

“You passed out. Shinra said your temperature was dangerously high. Why didn't you call me? Why didn't you tell me you felt so bad?”

“It's just a cold,” Izaya mutters, and Shizuo growls at him.

“It's not a fucking cold. How am I supposed to help you if you won't tell me how you feel?”

Izaya looks up at him, confusion clear in his expression. Shizuo glowers at him in return, and Izaya looks down.

“You're busy. I didn't think it was anything to worry about,” he says.

Shizuo opens his mouth to argue about how stupid that is, but he stops himself and thinks about what he knows about Izaya. Izaya was often left alone to care for himself and his sisters, and when he was sick, he probably didn't have anyone to go to. Shizuo thinks back to when he was a kid, when he would actually get sick, and the way his parents would let him sleep with them. His anger evaporates, and he leans in, kisses Izaya's lips gently.

“Tell me, okay? I should've stayed with you today. I just didn't know it was this bad.” He presses his forehead to Izaya's. “I'm making you some soup, and you're gonna eat some.”

“Okay,” Izaya says, still confused.

“And I'm going to run you a bath. You smell like sweat.”

“Do I?” Izaya sniffs himself. “I think my sense of smell is gone.”

“The soup will help with that. It's spicy. Good for clearing sinuses.”

Izaya nods, and Shizuo lifts him up, carries him to the bathroom. He winds up getting into the tub with Izaya, who is too weak to really sit up properly or wash himself. Shizuo washes Izaya's hair for him, carefully avoiding his eyes, and when they're both clean, he helps Izaya dry and dress, carries Izaya back downstairs to the couch.

“Your temperature is down a lot,” Shizuo says, smiling at Izaya. Izaya's hair is a mess, and the big sweater he's wearing, one of Shizuo's, is sliding to reveal a little of his shoulder. Shizuo hands Izaya a blanket and goes to stir the soup, which is starting to fill the apartment with a delicious aroma Izaya says he can't smell.

While it cooks, they curl together on the couch, some cheesy movie playing on the TV. Shizuo calls Tom and says he can't come in the next day, and Izaya argues that Shizuo didn't have to do that, but he looks far too pleased for Shizuo to take it seriously. When the movie ends, Shizuo announces the soup is ready, and to his delight, Izaya eats it ravenously.

“Spicy,” Izaya says, his nose running while he eats. Shizuo grins at him and hands him a napkin.

“Can you taste it? Or just the spice?”

“Little of both,” Izaya says, and when he asks for seconds, Shizuo gladly obliges.

They go to bed after eating, and Izaya is quickly out like a light, which in itself is unusual. Shizuo doesn't think he's ever seen Izaya sleep this much. He drifts off with Izaya in his arms, and in the morning, he wakes up to find he's on top of Izaya once more. He snorts in amusement and rolls off, and Izaya immediately whines and paws for him.

“Don't go,” Izaya says, and he latches to Shizuo.

“Not going anywhere, flea,” Shizuo promises, and he winds up being pulled back on top of Izaya, who is clearly using him as a heavy blanket. “Are you feeling better?”

“Mm... A little. Still feel gross.”

Shizuo grins at the honest answer, and he kisses Izaya's neck. He hates that Izaya feels bad, but he's glad to know it all the same.

#asks #anon #prompts #shizaya #izaya is a stubborn bastard lol #sick fic

72 notes · View notes

xiaodejunletsact · 5 years

Text

8 letters | park jisung

word count: 18,247

genre: highschool!au, baseball player!jisung, a lot of angst and fluff. childhood friends to enemies to friends to lovers lmao

warnings: mentions of bullying, a lot of emotional baggage from jisung’s part, physical fighting, basically lots of high school angst.

author’s note: hey everyone! im finally back from the dead lol, thank you to everyone who has waited to long for this and sent me nice messages, they really encouraged me :) anyway, a couple of things you guys should know before you start are: i tried to make this jisung a lot like real jisung idk if i did but i hope it worked lol and i tried to make as unfiltered of high school experience as you can get. so jisung faces bullying and social pressure in this and the 2000 line and chenle are all the same age as jisung in this. its a long one but i really hope you like it! thank you! (Btw!! this one is for all my 2002 liners who are going into senior year, lets make this year the best one yet!)

synopsis: 4 years ago, you and jisung’s long term friendship came to an abrupt end. now in senior year, the two of you find yourselves being forced together again by your mothers. suddenly, jisung begins to ask himself what is more important: his reputation or you.

alternatively;

if all it is is 8 letters, why is it so hard to say?

It had been a long time since you sat at the polished marble table that resides in the Park Household. The mix of colors on the table are weaved with bittersweet emotions as you stare down at them, the spaghetti his mother had served you grew cold as you took in the words your parents were throwing at you.

“We know you guys don’t really get along as well as you used to but the streets are getting dangerous nowadays. Just the other day they jumped a kid from your school!” Your mother says, exasperated. Her eyes were wide as Jisung’s mother nods her head in agreement across the table. The conversation has been going on for a half hour now, despite your clear distaste for the argument.

“I get that, mom. I just don’t see why I can’t just walk to school with Renjun.” She sighs at your words, making eye contact with Jisung’s mother across the table. You tear your gaze away from them to Jisung who scoffs in response to your words. “Is there something funny Jisung?”

“Our moms want us to go to school together so we can be safe, and you want to walk with that twig? He can’t protect you for shit.” He spits out at you, his mother giving him a warning to watch his language before you reply.

“And you can?” He falters momentarily at the sharp gaze you send his way, before shooting one back. Your stare down ends only when your mothers tell you to settle down.

“Jisung has a car now, y/n. It’s safer and you won’t have to take the walk to school every morning… I don’t see why you can’t just do this.” She looks at you with a pleading look, the type she knows you’ll give into. You shift your gaze away from her face and sigh. Jisung speaks up.

“Shouldn’t I have a say in this? It’s my car!” He sounds as frustrated as you feel. His mother laughs.

“Remind me, who pays that car?” This shuts him up immediately, producing a chuckle out of you while he huffs. Your mothers watch the interaction with a sigh. “Please guys, we just want you to be safe. You guys used to be best friends! How hard can it be to spend 20 minutes together?”

Very hard.

The air in the car is thick when Jisung picks you up the next Monday morning, the silence between you two is filled with an indie pop album that plays on the radio when you get in.

The inside of his car smells strongly of cologne, though it’s unfamiliar to you. You figured he started using it after you guys stopped being friends; it wouldn’t be the only thing that has changed while the two of you were apart. Like the bright laughter and easy conversations that one surrounded you two, that is now replaced with thick silence and tension. There’s also Jisung, who seems a lot more mature now, who joined the baseball team and became one of the most popular guys in school or the fact that he has a car and also the fact that he hasn’t talked to you since he told you he didn’t want to be friends anymore at the beginning of your freshman year of highschool.

Even now, you try to figure out what changed. What tables turned in Jisung’s head that caused him to react the way he did towards you. At the time, you supposed it was one of those friendship fallouts you see in movies, where things just don’t work out; that’s what split you two apart. However, you know that wasn’t the case when Jisung arrives the following week to school, contacts replacing his round glasses you loved so much and his arm wrapped around Jessica - the most popular and bitchiest girl in school. You recall the nauseating feeling you got when you saw him; it being the exact moment you realize that things had really changed, that this wasn’t just a friendship fallout, Jisung cut you out of his life so he could start a new one.

Without you.

Though it took a while, you began to realize that the Jisung you knew was long gone, no longer will he be fanboying to you about a new video game he’s into or a baseball game he has watched over and over. No longer will he be putting cute sticky notes in your locker. No longer was he your best friend. He was now popular guy every girl in school had a crush on, that wears his hair up and hangs out with the resident school asshole jocks.

The best thing you could do was ignore it, pretend it didn’t happen by stuffing all of his things deep in your closet and never looking at them again. You occupied your thoughts by making new friends and picking up new hobbies, which led you to Renjun -who helped you through everything and was there for you when Jisung wasn’t. He took your mind off things and kept you busy and although he was your rock and you appreciate his company and friendship immensely, there are still times where you find yourself falling down the rabbit hole of questions and thoughts surrounding the Jisung situation.

When your mother suddenly starts questioning what happened, where he is and saying that she misses him. You can only shrug as your mood dampens at his mention, rushing to your room and holding down the words that are threatening to escape:

Me too.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of an opening car door, you barely have any time to process the scene in front of you because Jisung is already rushing into the gates of the school. Leaving you alone in his car.

You watch as he jogs up to his jock friends and becomes one of them. He puts on his baseball jock skin and fits right in like he was never the boy who would sneak into your house when he was feeling lonely.

He wasn’t anymore.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and exit the car and walk into school, preparing to do what you do best: pretend it doesn’t matter.

You try especially hard to pretend it doesn’t matter as you wait for Jisung outside the school for two hours after the dismissal bell has rung. Your foot taps impatiently on the ground as you send him a 4th text asking him where he is. You can’t help but feel embarrassed; he stood you up, left you stranded on there and is on his way home probably laughing his ass off.

You were foolish to think he would actually hold up his end of the deal and just be a good human being this once. You sigh and shake your head, trying to brush off the embarrassment off your mind as walk towards the school gates, starting the journey to your house. Trying your best to not think about it until the sound of your shoes against the sidewalk is disturbed by the sound of Jisung’s voice.

“Hey!”

He’s standing near the entrance of the school, his hair wet, his torso covered is a loose T-shirt, different to the one he was wearing this morning and his chest was heaving like he had been running. You’re too far away to tell if the look on his face is upset or confused. “Where are you going? Get in the car!” You scoff at him and march your way up to him. Pointing an accusing finger at him you spit out.

“You left me waiting here for nearly 2 hours! I was going home!” Jisung looks at you with a confused expression before shrugging his shoulders.

“I had baseball practice, I thought you knew.”

“How would I know? I don’t keep up with the baseball team. You didn’t tell me either.”

Jisung sighs and open the door to the passenger gets side, “Can you just get in so we can go?”

After staring harshly at him for a few seconds, you reluctantly get into the car. Jisung closes the door behind you and you watch as he walks around the car to the drivers side, seating himself before starting the car.

At first you drive in silence, which you figured is better than fighting, until Jisung turns down the radio.

“Since the season is starting, I’m gonna have practice everyday after school for the next few weeks.”

You nod at his words silently planning in your head what the hell you're going to do at school for 2 hours. Before you can think of a reply, Jisung turns up the radio, signifying the conversation is over. You bitterly settle back into your seat.

When you arrive to your street, Jisung pulls into his driveway and just like this morning, rushes out of the car and into his house like you have the plague, without sparing you a word.

You cross the street from his driveway to your own and look back at his house one last time. The light of his room is turned on now, you can see his silhouette faintly through the curtains as he moves sound his room. You shake your head as you look away, rushing into your house without looking back.

Maybe it’s the fact that you’ve interacted more with Jisung in the past two days than to have in the past two years or maybe you were just feeling nostalgic, because there could be no other reason you find yourself reaching into the deepest part of your closet later that night, taking out the box for the first time since you bid that part of your life farewell all those years ago.

It’s covered in a thick layer of dust that floats through the air as finally bring it out. You take a seat on the floor of your room and place the box in front of you, taking a deep breath before taking out the first item. A handheld mirror.

You instantly find yourself smiling, the mirror had been a birthday gift from Jisung. You flip it to see the faded words written on the back, that cause your eyes to gloss over:

“E`````very time you tell me that you hate the way you look, I lose brain cells bc you’re one of the prettiest girls out there. Please see what i see. Happy birthday, y/n - Jisung <3”

You remember using the mirror for practically everything after receiving it, feeling that it somehow made you beautiful. You turn it once again and look at your crying reflection, and you can’t help but think that maybe the effect has worn off after so many years.

Wiping your tears, you continue to pull out items which mostly consisted of small drawings, key chains and picture frames. The last thing in the box was one of Jisung’s sweatshirts he had given to you a few days before he told you he didn’t want to be friends. You pull it out and examine it, you had worn it many times before he had given it to you but it still had his smell lingering on it. You don't know why but suddenly you’re being engulfed in his scent and your body is covered in warmth, the hoodie wrapping around you feeling so familiar it brings tears to your eyes once again.

You decide that you didn’t care if this was Jisung’s hoodie. It’s your hoodie now and you can wear it whenever you want (of course deep down you know that’s just an excuse to feel close to him once again.)

Just as you’re about to start putting the items back in the box, you notice an envelope at the bottom of the box. You gasp gently as you pick it up, hands wrapping around the old worn out envelope, thick from all its contents. You spill them onto the floor and feel a tear drop down your cheek as you see all the different colored sticky notes splayed across your floor, all containing motivating messages and small drawings to make you smile. Jisung would give you one everyday and you would give him one in return, although you doubt he has kept his.

Hundreds of papers that accumulated during the long years of friendship stare back at you. You cry as you read through them; some sweet, others silly and some that made your heart flutter even now. You try your best to stop your tears as wonder how all of these notes that meant the world to you, could cease so easily as if it never mattered. But then again, after the way things played out, you figure it never did.

Your interactions with Jisung for the rest of the week consists of nothing bit of small talk and one word responses. Until 4 days later, on Friday morning, Jisung breaks the silence after turning down the radio.

“You know, you should wait by the bleachers after school from now on.”

His words produced a confused look on your face. The bleachers? You had just found a comfortable spot at a picnic table where there wasn’t many people that you comfortably do homework while you waited for him after school. “Why? What’s wrong with the picnic table?”

Jisung’s grip tightens on the steering wheel as he searches his mind for a response, “It’s outside of the campus, something could happen to you.”

Your eyes widen as you take in his words, did he just imply that he cares about you? After all these years, is the caring Jisung you knew coming back to you?

“And my mom would kill me if something happened to you.” He adds, you’re sure that if he were to have been looking at you, he would have seen you visibly deflate. You should’ve known better.

“I’ll be fine at my picnic table by myself.” You miss the perplexed look Jisung tried to conceal as you disagree with him. He rushes to search for another excuse to get you to do as he asked.

“The,” he pauses before adding quickly, “your picnic table is at the farthest point to the parking lot, i have to wait an eternity for you to get there after practice!”

You scoff at his selfishness and look out the window, “I’d rather you wait a bit than expose myself to those man eating baseball jocks.” It is a mutter, but Jisung hears every word.

“Man eating baseball jocks?”

“Yes, man eating baseball jocks. They’re all a bunch of assholes.”

Jisung scoffs, offended. “We are not!”

“I didn’t say you were, I said they were.” Your words seem to ease the tension in his body as he relaxes a bit in his seat before saying:

“They’re… not that bad.” He doesn’t sound too convinced himself, his words sound forced and fake. Even then, you turn to him with a shocked look.

“Not that bad? Those guys terrorize almost everyone in our school and traumatize underclassmen.” You click your tongue, frustrated. “After everything they did and said to us, you’re telling me they’re not that bad?”

It’s Jisung’s turn to be shocked at our sudden outburst for a few seconds before he composes himself once again, “That was back then, y/n. People change.”

You stop yourself from reaching up as grabbing onto your hair in frustration, sitting back in the chair and looking out the window. You then say the words that would cause a longing silence for the rest of the ride to school; words that remain in Jisung’s head for the rest of the day.

“I know that better than anyone.”

Jisung ponders your words for the rest of his day, absently staring at blank walls and laughing it off when his friends call for his attention.

He knows that you have every right to be mad at him but he couldn’t help but feel knives prick at his heart as he runs the memory of you saying those bitter words that held so much weight and sadness to them. He reminisces all the times where he told you he would always be there for you, that he promised to be by your side forever, and tries to stop the stinging in his eyes. He wishes things could go back to the way they were, that he could tell you how sorry he is and you guys would be best friends again.

As he stares at himself in the bathroom mirror, he shakes his head slightly, reminding himself that this is for the best. He tries his best to conceal his bloodshot eyes, rubbing his hands over his face and staring back into the mirror. Jisung practices his fake smile (although he’s almost a professional at it considering how much of that he’s been doing) in the mirror, and does what he always does: adjusts the new skin he has given himself and pushes old Jisung into a cage, throwing away the key.

It’s for the best.

You chuckle halfheartedly at something Renjun says as you walk down the hall after school later that day. You feel a bit guilty that you’re giving your friend only a quarter of your attention but you can’t stop your mind from being preoccupied with Jisung. The guilty feeling in your heart after your harsh words to him this morning being the only thing on your mind when a hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks and demanding your attention.

“Come with me.” Jisung stands towering above you, you give him a confused look, making a pathetic attempt to take your wrist out of his grip, only to have it tightened.

“Why would she want to go anywhere with you?” Renjun barks at Jisung, who sends a glare his way.

“Because I’m her ride home, asshole. And I don’t want her sitting centuries away from the parking lot and then leave me waiting for her.”

Renjun scoffs and moves forward only to have your free hand press against his chest, pushing him back. “Renjun, it’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Renjun shares an uneasy and concerned look between you and Jisung. You reply by nodding your head and smiling reassuringly, which causes him to finally cease and pull into a quick goodbye hug before walking towards the school gates.

Jisung pulls your arm, dragging you towards the bleachers where he sits you down with the calm words, “Wait here.”

Your eye roll is a 7.1 on the Richter scale.

The rowdy baseball team leaves the locker room loudly, alerting you of their presence immediately. You take in a deep breath and try to make yourself as unnoticeable as possible though, you know your plan failed when a shadow is cast onto the notebook sitting in front of you.

“Look who it is!” Over you stands, Jeno: captain of the baseball team (and mind controlling leader of all the jock minions. He is man eating baseball jock at its finest.)

He smiles down mockingly, bringing himself closer to you. “What’s wrong princess? Cat got your tongue?” The taunt causes you to roll your eyes, moving to pack your stuff before things got bad.

However, you figure Jeno’s plans seem to be different when he rips your backpack out of your hands and throws it on the ground next to you. He grabs your jaw harshly and forces your eyes to meet his, he speaks again, only this time, he says it lowly for only you two to hear.

“You trying to get back in Jisung’s pants, huh? After all this time you still don’t understand that he doesn’t want you. He’s one of us now, y/n.” Jeno clicks his tongue as he pulls away and watches the emotions that inevitably settle in your eyes, no matter how much you try to conceal it. He laughs and reaches into his gym back, pulling out a water bottle and taking a short sip. He smirks and before you know it the cold liquid is being poured over your head, soaking your hair, clothes and school books. Jeno laughs once again, “You’re such a pity party, y/n.”

Humiliated, you avert your gaze from him and meet eyes with Jisung, who watches the scene with an expression you can’t quite pinpoint, silent and making no attempts stop Jeno. Not that you expected him to. Even then, you get the same angsty feeling you get every time you realize he’s not who he used to be.

You realize that holding in your tears is harder than you thought it would be when Jeno finally leaves, you pack your things as quickly as you possibly can and bolt out of there. Leaving a conflicted and guilty Jisung behind.

All that’s to be heard around you as walk home is the sounds of your small sniffles and the thud of your sneakers on the pavement below you.

The cool autumn wind blows against your wet clothes and causes you to shiver, your body growing colder.

Frustration and humiliation push you to walk faster as you feel the presence of a car moving slowly beside you. Jisung rolls down the window.

“Y/N! Get in the car!”

You turn your face to him and begin walking faster, practically sprinting. Once you think he’s finally gone, you hear a car door slam shut and footsteps racing to catch up with yours.

Jisung grabs your shoulder and spins you around to face him. “Getting home alone will only get the two of us in trouble.”

You scoff, trying to mask your bloodshot, gloss eyes and emotional state. “Is that all you care about?”

Jisung is quiet for a few seconds before asking, “Are you crying?”

You freeze knowing you’ve been caught before turning and beginning to walk away, “Go away, Jisung.”

Jisung moves to stand in front of you, and speaks in a boardline soft voice. “Just get in the car.”

“Leave me alone.”

“I’m sorry about what happened, okay? I didn’t think they would do something like that.”

You remain quiet, taking in his words. Jisung was never one to apologize even when you two were friends, his words shock you momentarily before you remember that this isn’t the Jisung you used to know. Maybe new Jisung says sorry without meaning it like the rest of the baseball jocks do.

“Aren’t going to say anything?” Jisung masks his nerves over saying those words that are foreign on his tongue with impatience and indifference.

Another breeze blows and Jisung watches in concern as you shiver, wanting nothing more than to rip the hoodie of his body and cover yours with it.

“Take me to my house, please.”

You figure it’s because of the unfortunate weather paired with your unfortunate situation or maybe it’s the fact that Jisung is standing before you asking for you to get in his car and saying sorry to you for the first time in his life.

You wish it was the former.

As soon as the car comes to a stop, you reach for the handle to open the door to no avail. You turn confusedly to Jisung who sits in the driver's seat looking forward hand sitting on the control where the locks of the car are.

“What are you doing? Open the door.”

Jisung shakes his head and looks your way, “You never accepted my apology.” His eyes hold something truly desperate and troubled, you are shocked once again at the emotion you see in the boy who has been cold as ice to you for the last two years.

Still, you recall the events that took place earlier that day and find yourself feeling bitter. “Was I supposed to?”

“Yes!” Jisung looks at you wide eyed and offended, thinking you would know him enough to know how much those words meant to him.

“You don’t get to decide that, Jisung.”

He scoffs, trying to mask his insecurities and guilt with frustration. “It wasn’t even that big of a deal.”

You let out your own scoff and turn in his direction, your glassy eyes causing Jisung’s stance to deflate slightly. “It was to me! I was so humiliated by those jerks and all you did was sit there and watch! You probably tricked me into going there in the first place, you... set me up. I should've known something like this would happen.”

Jisung feels the cracks in his heart deepen as he takes in your words, the way you view him now evident. Even then, he tries miserably to defend himself. “I would never do that, I’m.. I’m not that cruel.”

“I didn’t think so either Jisung. Not today and not four years ago when you left me to be one of those man eating, toilet licking jocks!” You look him straight in the eyes with your tear filled ones, “But you said it yourself: people change. And I don’t know who you are anymore.”

The cracks go further down until they’ve snapped off completely, splitting Jisung’s heart in two and letting the pieces sink down his chest, pass his lungs to his stomach where he thinks it will remain for the rest of his life.

You, on the other hand, can feel nothing but the fear and embarrassment of having shared too much. Your hands move on their own as you attempt once again to open the door.

“Y/N I-“

“Open the door, please.” This time, he does. No words filling the air as you rapidly gather your things and basically run into your house leaving Jisung alone in his car.

Poor Jisung looks down at his poor hands, clenching and opening them to feel like he has control over something in his life.

He’s not who he wants to be. He wants to be able to outwardly fanboy about video games and baseball to you like he used to. He wants you to call him stupid but still show interest to whatever nonsense comes from his mouth; he wants you.

His new skin has never fit this badly before.

Why the fuck is high school so hard?

When Monday morning comes around, Jisung holds his sweaty hands against the steering wheel of his car, waiting in front of your house. You’re late, (23 minutes to be exact; not that he’s counting) the fact making Jisung think that maybe Friday was the last straw for you, and that you were done trying to tolerate Jisung even for your mom’s sake.

Even though he knows you have every reason to hate him, the mere thought makes it harder for him to breathe.

Deep in thought, Jisung doesn’t notice the figure walking towards the passenger side of his car until there is a knock on the window that causes him to jump.

Jisung calms down upon seeing your mother at the window, an amused/slightly concerned look adorning her face.

“Honey, I’m sorry for scaring you! I thought you saw me coming!” She chuckles out the last words and all Jisung can do is laugh nervously in response. “Anyway, Y/N isn’t going to school today, she has been sick all weekend. I think she got caught some rain on Friday and has a cold, she’ll be better soon I’m sure.” Your mother stops her rant to send an apologetic look Jisung’s way, “I’m sorry you had to wait, I told her to let you know so this wouldn’t happen, I guess she didn’t.”

Jisung shakes his head, “It’s okay, ma’am. I hope she feels better soon.”

She gives Jisung a motherly smile that he has missed so much. He remembers all the days he would spend at your house and how your family basically became his own, all the times she would give him that smile before ruffling his hair. Jisung feels his eyes glass over and looks away. Your mother seems to notice and says in an affectionate, motherly tone: “Honey, everything is going to work out in the end.”

Jisung sniffles as he lets tears freely fall down his cheeks, “I don’t know what to do.”

She just smiles and leans further into the car, just enough to be able to reach out and wipe the tears from his cheeks. The familiar motherly gesture from her making him feel a little at ease for the first time in 4 years.

“What do you want to do?”

What does he want?

He wants to play baseball, he wants people to like him, he wants to be captain of the team one day, he wants to be the Park Jisung everyone loved and wanted to be.

But… he also wants to be able to be the Park Jisung he used to be, who would obsess over video games and hang out at your house more than his own, who had you as a best friend and didn’t have to go to school worrying about his reputation

Now pacing a few feet from your front door, left hand holding a bag carrying your favorite soup and right hand rubbing nervously at his jeans, trying to get the sweat off of them, Jisung thinks that maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

What if your favorite soup changed?

What if your dog doesn’t like him anymore?

What if you don’t want to see him and tell him to get out?

What if-

“Jisung?”

He nearly gets whiplash from how fast he turns to face your father who stands at the doorway smiling. “Long time since you’ve been here, what’s up?”

Jisung laughs nervously, “Yeah, it’s been a while…” He pauses, unsure on whether to ask for you or not.

Then he realizes, just like your mother, your father was a second father figure to Jisung all throughout his childhood, he sees right through him and smiles knowingly. “She’s in her room.”

Your house hasn’t changed one bit since he stopped coming over. The same beige carpeted floors and the same pictures of the walls, even some of the two of you together as kids.

He hears thudding on the floor and suddenly he’s being knocked over by a giant ball of fur that licks his face and excitedly wags its tail. Jisung feels some weight lift of his shoulders as he pets the dog, “I missed you too, Jojo.”

It’s strange how everything can be exactly the same but at the same time totally different. How everything between you two turned cold and these walls and this home were just waiting for him to get some sense knocked into him and come back finally.

Maybe the walls weren’t the only ones waiting.

After knocking on your door for several minutes with no response, Jisung decides to open the door a crack, just enough for him to be able to look inside and see you fast asleep. He ponders over what to do at your doorway, nervously looking at you from the door frame.

After considering his options, he opts for just leaving the soup on your desk and leaving quickly, hoping your father tells you he stopped by. However, as he sets the bag on your desk something draped over your desk chair catches his eye.

His sweatshirt.

Jisung reaches for it hesitantly, hand shaking for a reason he can’t pinpoint. His fingers meet the soft material of it’s fabric and he feels himself remembering all the times he had seen you the sweatshirt whenever you stayed over at his house. He recalls the night he walked dolefully to your house with the sweatshirt in his hands, on his way to cut things off with you. At the memory, he immediately reaches into the pocket, letting his hands search through it until it comes in contact with something.

It’s still there.

He wonders if you haven’t read it, or if you did and stuffed it back in the pocket and pretended you hadn’t, choosing not to dwell on the boy who left you.

He also wonders if you wear it, if you ever think about him when you have it on.

If you get sad or if it’s warmth reminds you of the good times you spent together. Jisung grips the material in his fingers and brings it up to his chest. Eyes closed, he presses the sweatshirt close to his body.

It smells like you. But it also smells faintly of him. Jisung smiles as breathes in the mixture of scents that brings back good memories.

He can’t believe this sweatshirt as managed to keep the two of you together as he tore you apart. His want to fix things with you grows stronger and stronger as he stands in your room, gripping onto his sweatshirt.

Jisung hears a gasp and his eyes snap in your direction, your previously laying figure sits straight up on your bed with a frightened face, your hand over your heart. He freezes, unsure of what to do.

On the other hand, your body relaxes slightly as you realize that it’s just Jisung and not a crazy axe murderer, although you can’t even imagine why he would be in your room right now.

“Jisung?” The boy flinches as you say his name, before dropping the item he had previously in his hands onto the floor. You direct your vision to it and see his -your- sweatshirt which makes your confusion grow further. “What are you doing in here?”

Jisung can’t help but look at your window like he wants to jump out of it. This was definitely not how it was supposed to go. “I- uh well uh your mom told me that you were sick and I thought that maybe you- wanted something to eat? I don’t know. So like I stopped by to bring you this soup. You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to I just figured since you were sick and stuff you know… maybe you would want some… soup.” He finishes off his rant by pointing to your desk where he had set the bag earlier.

You almost laugh at how awkward he’s being, though your confusion outweighs every other emotion. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you bring me this soup? Why are you in my room right now?” Your defenses start to come up as you realize how personal the situation is.

Jisung is standing in your room for the first time in 4 years, he was holding the hoodie that used to belong to him and he brought you soup from the place you two used to go as children.

Does he suddenly want to remember? Is this him trying to get back what he gave away?

“I just -“ He sighs, averting his gaze from you to the ground. “Look, I know what I did is terrible and that… you probably hate my guts after what happened… but I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry about everything that has happened between us, including Friday, I just… wanted you to be able to see you and know that you were safe. Not for my mom but for me. I’m sorry for not defending you when the guys did that to you. I let my fear get the best of me like I always do.” He pauses to take a deep breath, simultaneously looking up finally to meet your eyes, you feel your heart contract at the sight of his red, tear filled eyes. “And I’ve been using my moms wishes as an excuse to be with you after so many years but it’s time you finally knew that truth, and it’s that I miss you and it’s sad but spending this week with you has made me feel more than I’ve felt in the past 4 years,” he hiccups as he speaks, “and I know that you probably don’t want anything to do with me and I get that. I really do but no one knows me like you do. No one. And you know I wouldn’t say this if I didn’t mean it but I’ll say it again and again and again…” A tear falls from the corner of his eye. “I’m sorry, y/n.”.

You feel like you’ve been punched but also kissed and hugged tight after Jisung ends his emotional rant.

His words cause a division in your heart and mind over what to make of them.

Your mind says that this will end up like the last time, you’ll buy into all his fake promises and tears and fall for him all over again, only for him to leave you to pick yourself up after he decides he’s had enough of you.

However, your heart gives voice to the fact that this Jisung is strikingly similar to the Jisung you knew once upon a time. He is nothing like the Jisung you’ve seen for the last 4 years who is cold and mean; he is vulnerable and soft spoken, this Jisung just poured his heart out to you and is now standing with his arms wrapped around himself, awaiting your reply.

“Jisung, I-“ you stop yourself and try to choose words carefully while your heart and mind have a heated debate. “I think it’s best if you go.”

The way Jisung curls even further into himself makes your heart hurt, screaming even louder to let her opinion be heard. Fresh tears gather in his eyes that he immediately blinks away, nodding slowly. “I understand.”

“I’m sorry, I just don’t know what to make of all this.” You try your best to not make him feel too horrible while simultaneously protecting yourself.

His broken voice comes stuttering out, thick and sad, “Don’t be sorry, please.”

He spares one last look your way before disappearing through your bedroom door. You hear his quick footsteps as he practically runs out of your house, leaving you alone with your conflicting thoughts and cold soup.

The energy of the events that took place in your room earlier seemed to still be circling around the room, bouncing off the walls and onto you. Sad and conflicting thoughts running through your head 100mph, leaving you restlessly tossing and turning in your bed later that night.

You sigh as you stare up at the ceiling, finally giving into the thoughts that have kept you awake.

What did this mean to Jisung?

What tables turned in his mind that caused the stone cold boy to come into your room (while you slept) with an order of your favorite soup to break down in front of you and go on a rant about how sorry he is?

And if he’s so sorry, why did he do it in the first place?

What changed from Friday to now?

Just when everything was getting better, why did Jisung have to come back into your life and make it complicated for you?

Should you forgive him?

There’s a chance you could get your best friend back… but there’s also a chance he might break your heart again.

You shove your blankets to the floor in frustration, rising off your bed and waking across the room to your light switch. However, on your decent, you step on something soft, only to realize that it’s the sweatshirt Jisung had been holding with tears in his eyes just hours ago.

A sudden confusion washes over you for a different reason, why had Jisung been inspecting the sweatshirt in the first place? You curiously begin to reach into the pockets, immediately feeling the texture of paper on your hand.

Your eyes widen as you pull it out, dropping the sweatshirt back onto the floor. The slip of paper is nearly folded and worn out at the edges, like it had been that way for a long time. Once unfolded, these slightly blurred words stared back at you:

‘My y/n, please understand and please keep me as your favorite boy after this. I’m so sorry. When it’s time, please forgive me -Jisung’

You don’t notice that your eyes fill with tears until they’re dropping onto the small paper below you.

Friday hadn't been the first time he said sorry to you, it was in this little slip of paper years ago.

You were sure he had put the paper in there knowing you probably wouldn’t find it, because there is no way you would’ve let him leave you if you heard those words then. There was no way you would let go of him.

There is no way.

Jisung seems shocked when you knock on the window of his car the next morning.

He had been waiting in front of your house, only 25% expecting you to actually ride to school with after what happened yesterday. Just as he was about to give up and begin his journey to school you present yourself before him with a familiar sweatshirt draped over your figure.

He’s speechless as you get into the car and settle into your seat, only opting to talk a few minutes later.

“What does this mean for us?”

He’s hopeful. God, he wishes he wasn’t this hopeful.

You smile slightly, “I read your note… and I went through some of the letters you gave me a long time ago and some of our other stuff. And… I decided that if you’re really sorry, and if this isn’t some kind of sick prank… then maybe we can be friends again.”

Jisung tries to bite back his wide smile as you finish your sentence, but fails when a giggle leaves his mouth. He’s so so happy. This is the happiest he’s ever been.

You can’t help but smile as well, watching how giddy Jisung got, “What is it?”

Jisung gives you a close lipped smile and shakes his head slightly although, there is still a big smile waiting to break free. He remains that way while he puts the car in drive and pulls out of your street and onto the main road, where he suddenly says: “Does this mean I’m still your favorite boy?”

Now it’s your turn to hold back a smile, “Maybe.”

This time, Jisung lets him smile free, allowing you a view of his pretty, gummy smile and crescent moon eyes. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel and smiles all the way to school.

Things at school remain the same after that.

You two pass each other in the halls as if you were strangers, which, you admit, does leave a slight sting in your heart. However, that sting is overshadowed by how much things have changed between you and Jisung outside of school.

No longer is the air thick or is there a silence that falls over you two as soon as you get in his car every morning. And no longer do you race out of his car as soon as he parks it in front of your house. Now, the atmosphere in the car is full with playful banter and laughs (with the occasional snorts.)

It’s a light feeling; like you’ve put the last 3 years of your life behind you and have defied gravity and are currently floating multiple feet in the air, Jisung’s laughter and playful words surrounding you entirely.

Even though things aren’t how they used to be, in some way, they are better. The new Jisung and the new Y/N get along surprisingly well despite what you may have thought.

Especially at times like these, when Jisung hops into his car excitedly, animedtaly telling you to strap in quickly.

“Where are we going?” You ask, though you’re smiling and slowly fasten your seatbelt. Jisung’s hands comes to rest on the back of your seat and he drives the car in reverse and out of its parking spot.

“You and I are going to Billy’s.” His gaze shifts to you briefly, before focusing back on the road, still smiling. He misses the way your eyes widen and your whole face brightens.

“I haven’t been there in a while.” You say, the driving boy nods in understanding.

“Me neither,” he progressively breaks his car until it comes to a stop at a red light. He takes this chance to look over at you and smiles softly, “We can go back together.”

Once you get to the ice cream shop, Jisung leads you to a table inside. “Wait here. I’ll go order.” You watch as approaches the counter, smiling brightly at the cashier, who greets him enthusiastically. Exclaiming for the whole shop to hear.

“Jisung! You’re finally back, man! It’s been ages!” You recognise the voice as that of Jaehyun, who had been a new worker when you and Jisung were regulars here. You’re shocked that he even remembers him. “Where have you been? Where’s your girl?”

Jisung’s face flushes, he clears his throat, “My girl?”

“Yeah! What was her name again…” There is a pause in his sentence before he snaps his fingers, finally remembering. “Y/N!”

Even though you knew what was coming, you still startle at the sound of your name; you anxiously await Jisung’s reply which comes a bit later, “She’s right over there.” He points to you and you immediately look away, pretending you weren’t listening. Jaehyun looks at you in shock before turning back to Jisung.

“It’s difficult to keep a girlfriend for that long in high school, I’m glad to see you guys together.”

Jisung looks over at you once again except this time, you don’t look away. A soft smile rests on Jisung’s face.

“Yeah, me too.”

“So I’m your girl?”

You and Jisung are on your way home now with ice cream filled bellies after sitting in the shop and talking for 2 hours. You were wondering if you should address his interaction with Jaehyun the whole time, afraid that you would be overstepping. However, once the words leave your mouth, his cheeks flush a deep shade of red; darker than the one at the shop and enough to make your heart flutter but also swell with pride.

“Well, he said that.. And you know, I didn’t want to correct him or make him feel embarrassed or anything so I just went along with it. But if you mind, next time we-”

“I don’t.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t mind.” You’re feeling especially brave today, wanting so desperately to keep that blush on his face.

Jisung looks over at you for a split second with a bewildered look on his face, coughing a bit, he answers in the most stable voice he muster, “okay.”

His answer is a calm and collected one, but his insides are all jumbled up and going crazy, the butterflies in his stomach reeking havoc.

3 days later, you sat at your desk with a thick textbook sat in front of you, you had been tentatively reading the pages for about two hours now, trying to cram as much information as you could for your test tomorrow when you are suddenly startled by a ‘ding!’ coming from from your phone. You smile as you see the message gracing the screen.

jisung park [10:38pm]: hey :)

jisung park [10:38pm]: you still up?

y/n [10:40pm]: yeah, studying

y/n [10:41pm]: what are you doing up?

jisung park [10:43pm]: i was about to go to sleep, then i saw your light on. decided to text you.

jisung park [10:45pm]: just wanted to check on you

Your heart speeds up and you allow yourself to smile widely, you begin to type a reply but halt as soon as you see the three dots appear on your screen indicating the Jisung is typing.

jisung park [10:47pm]: don’t overwork yourself

jisung park [10:48pm]: wait i have an idea

Suddenly your phone is ringing, Jisung’s contact flashing on the screen only briefly as you answer, “Hello?”

“Come to your window.” You can hear the excitement and enthusiasm through the phone and walk to your window, seeing the boy sitting by his own window, curtains pulled back to show his smiling face which becomes brighter the moment he spots your face through the glass. When he speaks his lips move before his voice reaches your ears, but the lag is only a slight one.

“Now its like we’re hanging out, isn’t that cool?”

You chuckle at the purity of this action and the shyness that drips off his words, “Yeah, how come we didn’t think of this before?”

“I don’t know. I guess i’m just a genius.” He laughs when you laugh at his joke.

The next few hours are spent talking about absolutely everything under the sun, school, friends, a new video game Jisung is obsessed with and the fact that the ice cream at Billy’s tasted better now that you guys went together again.

Its nearing 1am when you finally look at the time, gasping. “Jisung, its almost 1.”

“Is it?” Jisung brings his phone away from him ear, looking down at it. His eyes widen when he spots the time, “wow, it is.”

He brings the phone back up to his ear before looking at you, neither of you says anything, only staring at each other and listening to one another’s breathing through the phone. You can’t help but suddenly feel giddy, biting your lip slightly before chuckling, Jisung’s own chuckle following.

“We should probably go to bed…” You watch as Jisung leans forward resting his forehead on the window sill, sighing.

“Yeah.”

When he makes no effort to move, you laugh and says in a sing-song voice: “Goodnight, Jisung.”

He smiles warm heartedly before letting his soft voice transmit the words, “Goodnight, y/n.” Before you both hang up, he adds, “You turn off your light first.”

You do as he says and he bids you farewell before the line goes dead, you stare happily at your ceiling while giggling and smiling to yourself. And in the house across from yours, Jisung is no different, hugging his pillow close and trying to contain his giddy noises.

You both dream of each other that night.

You knew Jisung was cute, but you didn’t know he was this cute.

The realization comes 3 mornings after that night, the moment you step into Jisung car to go to school. He immediately shoved his phone in your face. You grow soft as you see the sight on his screen.

“I made us a playlist!” He says enthusiastically, “so we don’t have to listen to shitty radio every morning.”

The playlist was titled ‘y/n and jisung’s epic morning time playlist :D’, and it featured songs from all of your favorite artists.

“I put songs in it I thought you would like, or that made me think of you.” He pauses, his cheeks flushing as he recalls his last words. “A-and some songs that I like too.” He tries desperately to play it cool but ultimately fails. However, you think this is the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

“That’s really sweet, Jisung. Let’s give it a listen.”

Neither of you talk for the rest of the drive to school, choosing to listen to Jisung’s playlist. Which is the only thing heard aside from the occasional hum or drum of Jisung’s fingers on the steering wheel.

Once you arrive, Jisung stops you from leaving by grabbing your hand. You turn around to see what’s wrong and sees the blushing face of Jisung who is currently avoiding your eyes.

“There’s a game today after school… do you maybe… wanna come? I mean, I know you never really go to these games but I thought maybe since we’re like friends now you might wanna come.” He rambles and you try your best to keep a straight face.

You watch him become nervous at your stoic expression before chuckling, as soon he looks up at you and sees you smiling face he relaxes. “Of course I’ll go, Jisung.”

“Really?” You nod, his smile grows and he’s suddenly leaning over the center console and kissing your cheek lightly, deeming it your turn to blush.

Jisung smiles smugly as he steps out of his car and walks towards the gates of the school, a pep in his step as he approaches the rest of the baseball team.

When you were making your way to the baseball field, you found yourself thinking that maybe coming here wasn’t the best idea. Considering how things went last time you were there and the fact that you and Jisung’s aren’t supposed to know each other in school.

But now… you couldn't be more glad you came. Not when Jisung is tearing it up on the field, running at the speed of light towards each base, you can practically see the passion and determination to become victorious that takes control of his body and plays vigorously.

He stands at the 3rd base, sweat dripping down his face, making way down his neck and pooling on the collar of his white uniform. His eyes are watching the player that’s about to bat. Slowly, he crouches slightly, putting his body in a position to run. And immediately after the sound of the ball hitting the metal bat rings through your ears he’s taking off at the speed of light towards home base, easily making it and leaving the opposing team’s players to huff frustratedly in the cloud of dirt that was left behind him. Jisung smiles smugly as everyone starts cheering for his home run. He knew they would never be able to catch him, not even in their dreams.

It’s kind of hot.

As he walks towards the dugout, his eyes trail over the expanse of the bleachers, searching. You allow yourself to hope that he’s searching for you just this once and wave your hand slightly as his eyes meet yours. His narrowed eyes fully open and a smile graces his pretty face as he raises his hand to wave back before quickly looking away and walking into the dugout, the smile you had caused remaining on his lips.

Jisung is staring at his reflection in the locker room mirror, ruffling his hair repeatedly, trying to get the perfect visual for you, when he feels a hand clap down on his shoulder. He recognizes it as Jeno almost immediately, he tenses up. “There’s party at Jessica’s house tonight, post game celebration, you coming?”

Jisung maps out all the different ways to say no and not get questioned. Looking back on it, maybe the one he went with wasn’t the best idea.

“I have... diarrhea.”

Jeno steps back, confused. “Diarrhea? You were just on the field!”

Oh shit oh shit oh shit, “It was one of those sudden ones, you know? Kinda snuck up on me.” He tries to laugh it off, but feels himself cringing. “Wh-”

“Its really bad so i gotta get home as soon as possible or im just going to shit… everywhere. So i gotta go,” he begins to make his descent to the entrance of the locker room, grabbing his gym back quickly before Jeno can question him further. “Bye!” he quickly slips out the door, leaving a suspicious Jeno in his wake.

“You told him that?” You say through your laughs, hand falling over mouth as you snort loudly at Jisung’s red face and embarrassed smile.

“I had no other choice! It was either that or get interrogated by Jeno for another hour.” Jisung can’t stop his own chuckle as he glances over momentarily to see hunched over, laughing loudly. He tries to conceal his laughter but eventually lets it out, “It is kind of funny…”

“Its hilarious!” Another snort leaves you and Jisung finally bursts out into loud laughter with you.

Your laughing fit lasts another few minutes and ends with the sound of your phone ringing. Your mother’s contact illuminates the screen, with laughter still evident on your voice you answer the call. “Hello?”

“Hi honey, how was the game?”

“It was good, we’re on our way home now.”

“Good, well, your father and I decided to go out tonight, you know… like on a little date.” You find it endearing that you’re mother still becomes flustered when talking about your dad as if they started dating yesterday. “So that means you’ll have the house all to yourself, is that okay?”

Your eyes travel to Jisung, an idea comes to your mind. “Yeah, mom. You guys have fun.” She laughs lightly on the other line saying she’ll make sure to before hanging up the phone.

As soon as you put your phone down, Jisung glances at you briefly before looking back at the road. “Was that your mom?” You hum in response.

“She told me her and my dad were going on a date,” He chuckles, “that means I’ll be alone tonight...” Jisung nods slowly, not getting the point. You sigh, wondering whether you should even bring it up or not. When you think about it, the thought of you and Jisung alone at your house was oddly… suggestive. Even though those weren’t your intentions at all, the possibility of Jisung thinking that you wanted to get with him made you nervous.

However, it seems Jisung had the same ideas as you because he’s suddenly taking a deep breath nervously drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “You know if you don’t wanna be alone… we could hang out?”

You can tell he’s unsure and nervous and the fact makes you feel somewhat better. “You can come over to my house, it will just be us though, is that okay?”

Jisung turns red which causes you to also turn that shade of crimson but even then, he nods. “Yeah, that’s okay.”

Neither of you talk the rest of the way home, but the silence that surrounds you is comfortable, only serving to give your erratically beating hearts a break.

“Jojo!”

Your dog’s ears perk up as soon as she hears Jisung’s voice, quickly standing up to run at full speed past you towards the boy. Who crouches down and lets the dog lick his face excitedly, all while wagging its tail wildly.

“Jojo! What about me?”

Jisung laughs when Jojo completely ignores you to shower him with love. On the outside, you pout playfully at him but on the inside, your heart is doing somersaults at how cute the sight in front of you is. ...Also the way Jisung falls right back into his place of puzzle that is your life so perfectly it’s like he was never gone. He looks so at home in your house even if he has grown about 2 feet taller and gotten more mature throughout the years. He’s still the same piece that your puzzle has been missing to be complete.

He’s still the same.

Jisung notices that you’re deep in thought and walks towards you, also noticing how you smiled slightly. “Is something wrong?”

You shake your head quickly, smiling. It’s the kind of smile that never fails to make Jisung smile.

“Nothing at all.”

4 movies, a 2 hour long conversation and 3 tickle fights later, you and Jisung are hungry.

So you find yourselves in the kitchen, scavenging like racoons for anything you can find in the seemingly empty kitchen.

After 5 minutes of searching and moping and whining from Jisung about how he’s to die if he doesn’t eat right now, you open a cupboard to see what might’ve been the equivalent to gold for you two at this point.

Ramen.

Only problem was: it was on the very top shelf and way out of your arms reach. Still, you try and reach the packets of noodles searching your arm to painful heights with small grunts and frustrated groans leaving you every now and then. They are immediately halted by the feeling of a body against your back, towering over you and reaching above for the ramen packets, whipping them off the shelf with ease.

Jisung’s scent is surrounding you and overwhelming all your senses. When he doesn’t move away, you turn around to face him. You are so close you can feel his breath on your face and you can count every single one of his eyelashes. “Why didn’t you do that sooner?” You attempt to make the situation playful, but your low voice fails you. Jisung smiles slightly down at you before shrugging, “I wanted to watch you struggle for a bit.” His chuckles and flinches at you poke his side with your finger. His face settles into a soft smile as he looks down at you and you can feel yourself blushing.

Jisung walks closer and closer to you until your fully pressed against the counter, never taking his gaze off you. “What is it?” You question, flustered.

Suddenly, he raises his hands to cup the sides of your face and leans down to press a lingering kiss on your forehead before pulling away completely, turning to the stove and setting up the pot like nothing happened.

You watch incredulously as the boy calmly rips open the ramen packaging, setting the water to boil.

“What was that for?” You question the back of Jisung’s head, his neck is beet red as he shrugs his shoulders.

“I couldn’t…” He hesitates, before turning around slowly, his eyes are staring at the ground, avoiding your own, “I couldn’t let that moment of courage pass. I’ve always wanted to do that and I was afraid if I didn't do it then, I wouldn't do it ever.”

Forget somersaults, your heart is doing full on acrobatics.

Jisung looks up when you don’t reply, only to see you staring at him. He becomes increasingly more nervous under your gaze, that is until you find your words finally.

“I was thinking earlier about how crazy it is.”

“What?”

“You being in my house and looking like you never even left, how something’s really didn’t change…” you take small steps towards the tall boy, trapping him in between your body and the counter, as he had done to you earlier. “Yet others did.”

The words would’ve sounded bittersweet in any other context, but in that moment, Jisung understood exactly what you meant. He brings his hands up to cup your face once again, but instead of moving to kiss your forehead, he leans down further.

Jisung’s breath fans on your face and his hands move further into your hair, lacing through it as you two come closer. You can practically feel his lips on yours, his-

“Y/N?”

The two of you shoot apart quickly at the sound of your mother’s voice, Jisung turns to the stove where the ramen was currently boiling and you turn towards the counter and act busy with your phone.

That’s how you are when your parents walk into the room, shocked to see Jisung there with you. “Honey, you didn’t tell me Jisung was staying over tonight.”

“Yeah, I forgot, sorry.” You say, your eyes stilling training on the counter top, your mom seems to notice the tension in the air when she asks, “ did something happen while we were gone?”

You dare to look at Jisung, only to see the blushing boy already looking at you. He gives you a soft, knowing smile and you return it. Turning to your mother, you say, “Nope.”

Which ultimately translates to ‘definitely’.

Neither of you bring up the almost kiss you guys shared that night, but boy… did you think about it. While laying in bed, at baseball practice, during the morning car rides when you guys acted like you hadn’t basically confessed to each other just a few days ago.

It was the only thing on Jisung’s mind for the next few weeks, and he knew you were thinking about him too. From the way you would glance at him whenever you thought he wasn’t looking, to the silence that fell whenever you were deep in thought.

Even though your thought revolves around Jisung, the are much different than the ones in his head. While Jisung was thinking about how you made his life brighter once again, yours were filled with an overwhelming amount of questions.

What does this mean for the two of you?

Are you two going to date?

And if you do, will Jisung even allow you two to be seen out together?

Will you be able to be Jisung’s girlfriend, out in the open?

You remembered every time he had passed by you in the halls, as if you two hadn’t stayed up talking for hours the night before. As if you didn’t know each other. The thought of Jisung keeping you hidden from everyone forever scared you to no end.

Although you knew that you were in for this when you decided to give Jisung your trust once again, you wondered how long you could handle being hidden, and if it really affected Jisung as much as it did you.

You try desperately to settle your racing mind by telling yourself that you should just enjoy being with him for the time being, to appreciate the present instead of worrying about the future.

So you don’t worry when Jisung pushes past you in the halls with the rest of the baseball team and you don’t worry when Jisung trails behind you as walk down the sidewalk when he sees someone from school and you also don’t worry when Jisung tells you to just wait a bit longer.

But you should’ve been worrying.

You should’ve been worrying a lot.

A week later, Jisung tells you to come down to the locker rooms and wait for him there since practice was going to drag on a little longer than usual.

You do as he says and walk down towards the gym, a pep in your step at the thought of seeing the boy you haven’t had a moment with all day. You movements are halted suddenly as you hear the echo of Jeno’s voice through as you wait by the door of the locker room. Jisung’s familiar voice reaches your ears as well but you can’t really make out what he’s saying. Out of curiosity, you lean closer to the door.

You hear Jeno’s voice first.

“-That chick has been hanging around you a lot, recently. Are you guys a thing or something?”

You were aware you were ‘that chick’

Jisung freezes. “ What chick?”

“Y/N.”

You tense at the mention of your name, growing nervous at of the things they would say. “Oh…” you hear Jisung say, “Well, I already told you, my parents make me drive her to school.”

“But that doesn’t explain why you guys are always together, I see you after school at Billy’s, you know.” Jeno questions him with no mercy, causing Jisung to grow more and more nervous, racking his mind for any words to get himself out of the situation. “You know I would never date her, man.” He pauses, “I left her for a reason, my mom would kill me if I left her alone every day, she barely has any friends.”

You feel like you’ve been stepped on by Jisung’s shoe that he keeps twisting and stomping with you under until you’re nothing but dust scattered across the gym floor. “Good, cause that would be embarrassing, dude.”

“Yeah, totally, she’s nobody to me.” Replies Jisung.

Nobody to him runs towards the door gym entrance and keeps running until she reaches the school gates, desperate to get away from the boy who has successfully, once again, broken her heart.

The continuous vibrations of your phone cause a frustrated groan to come out of your body. You reach angrily into your bag and pull it out seeing the contact you had expected to see: Jisung. There’s plenty of texts from him too, asking where you were and telling you that you should probably go home since it’s late. You shut down your phone and shove it back in your bag, taking a deep breath before continuing your walk, despite the heaviness of your feet and the want to just lie on the ground and cry.

Why did he have to fuck everything up? Just when everything was so perfect? Just when things were getting back to normal, and you two shared the same heart you did 4 years ago, why did Jisung have to remind you of the harsh reality that he cares more about his stupid reputation than your feelings? Why was he such a coward?

So many thoughts run through your head that you don’t notice a car pulling up next to you until you hear a voice shout out: “There you are, I figured you left ‘cause I took too long at practice, hop in.” He unlocks his car and looks at you expectedly.

You ignore his words and keep walking forward, a new found determination to get away from Jisung and into the comfort of your room, where you can hide under your covers and never come out again. You hear his voice but are to focused on getting away from him to comprehend any of the words leaving him mouth.

That is, until he’s standing directly in front of you. “What’s up with you? Did something happen at school today?” Once he catches sight of your eyes, his widen in concern, hands immediately reaching up to grab your shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

You push his hands off your shoulders bitterly, “You don’t have to worry about waiting for me tomorrow morning or any day after that, I’m walking myself to school from now on.”

Jisung’s face contorts in panic and confusion at your words. “Woah, what?”

You make an attempt to walk past him, only for his hand to wrap around your wrist. You meet his desperate eyes with your own, “Y/N, just tell me what happened and… I’ll fix it, okay? Just tell what’s wrong.”

Your lip quivers as you stare at the boy across you. “I heard you, Jisung.”

“What?”

“When you were talking to Jeno earlier in the locker room, when you said I was nobody to you. I heard you.”

Jisung freezes and you watch as the confusion on his face is replaced with realization, and fear. His chest dips more as his breathing grows deeper. “Please…”

You yank your wrist out of his hand which remains suspended in the air between you in shock. “Please? Please what? Forgive you? Why did you say that, Jisung?” You run your hands through your hair in frustration before feeling your shoulders deflate. “I thought that maybe we had something… or that you liked me or whatever but I guess not-“

“I do like you. I do, but it’s… not that simple.” He avoids your eyes like the plague now.

“Why? Why is it not that simple?”

He breathes in deeply before carefully replying, “You know how it was back then… with the baseball team and the bullying. I don’t want to do that again, I’m… I’m sorry.”

He’s trying to tell that you bring him down. You bring your hands over your eyes to conceal the tears in them and turn away from the guilty boy. “Just let me go home.”

He grabs onto you once again and desperately pulls you against him, hugging you close to his body. “No. Please, I don’t want our friendship to end again. What we have right now is good, let’s just get in the car and we can go to Billy’s and I’ll buy you a milkshake and-“

You shove Jisung away from you and look him directly in his eyes that are filled with regret and fear. “I don’t want to get milkshakes with you! What we have isn’t good! I’m your secret! I’m like a guilty pleasure of yours and I don’t deserve that, Jisung.” Your lip quivers once again as Jisung nods at your words, hands reaching to grab your shoulders.

“I know that, it’s true. You don’t deserve anything I’ve put you through but please, don’t leave me, I’ll do anything.”

Your sadness is masked by a sudden surge of anger. Want to hurt him the same way he hurt you takes over you as you push his hands off you roughly. “There’s nothing you can do. You wanna know why? Because you’re a coward Jisung. And you have to realize that all your problems would be fixed if you would just grow a pair!” You breathe deeply as you watch Jisung’s face scrunch up at your words. “And this time, it’s me leaving you and it hurts, doesn’t it?”

Jisung watches in silence as you turn and walk around the block,out of his line of vision.

Once the door of your room slams behind you, you lock the door to prevent any questioning from your mother and immediately hide your body under the covers.

The sound of your soft sobbing flow travel through the space of your dark room. You take this time to let your brain tell your heart “I told you so!” And reprimand it for even thinking that things with Jisung would be any different because he brought you fucking soup.

You were so naive to even hope that he would give up his stupid reputation for you. That he would’ve said anything else to Jeno that day. That you thought he liked you enough to be able to put you first.

God you were so stupid and naive.

The frustration and sadness you felt was none like any other, you wanted nothing more than to rip every single one of your hairs and never leave your room again.

The only source of light into the room is your window, you frustratedly get up, throwing the covers off of you angrily and march towards the window. Once you reach it you catch a glance of Jisung sitting by his own bedroom window, leaning against the frame and looking outwards your house sadly. He perks up when he sees you at your window, he is hopeful. You falter but then remember what just earlier that day and make direct eye contact with him as you let the blinds fall over the window, plunging your room into complete darkness.

Never again.

The spot on the bleachers where you sat last time is empty, causing an angsty feeling to rise in Jisung’s chest. The kind he’s been getting a lot recently when he sees you leaving your house every morning without him, and type he gets when he sees you in the halls laughing with your friends, knowing that could’ve been him if he hadn’t been such a pussy.

The rowdy boys around him yell and stretch, prepping for the game ahead. However, Jisung can’t find it in himself to even move, staring at the dirt below his sneakers and ignoring anyone who tries to start a conversation ; his teammates’ confused stares going unnoticed by him.

As he stares at his feet, he catches sight off the worn down marker ink that you had drawn under his shoe, which you had written a few days before he joined the team, before he walked out of your life. You had been just as excited as him (maybe even a bit more) when he told you he was trying out for the team. He told you to write something that would give him strength on the field; you enthusiastically grabbed a marker and write on the side of his shoe:

“You’re going to do great today! You’re my favorite boy! <3”

He moves his foot to get a better view of it. A faint smile dusts on Jisung’s face, before immediately disappearing when he remembers what he did and that those days were no longer. Because he ruined it. Again.

“Alright boys! Showtime!” The Coach Suh’s loud voice causes the dugout to immediately grow silent as he begins to discuss strategies with the team, all the players listen attentively. Jisung tries his best to listen to the coach’s words but still can’t focus on anything but that damn empty seat.

As Jisung waits in the dugout from his turn to bat he is still not able to keep his mind off you. He keeps trying to focus on the game instead of you but it seems like Jeno has other plans.

Jisung feels Jeno tap his shoulder to get his attention, when Jisung faces him, he smiles smugly and leans back, crossing his arms. “You weren’t at the party last night, should’ve been.”

Jisung shrugs, “I wasn’t feeling it.” Jeno leans forward to whisper into Jisung’s ear.

“That y/n was there, I had to have a go.”

Jisung feels his blood run cold, nerves and new waves of angsty feelings rushing through him at the thought of you and another guy. Of you and Jeno. It can’t be true. You wouldn’t. “A go?”

“You know, like sex.” He replies easily, laughing. “She said she didn’t want it though. But they always say that, she’ll come around.”

Heavily breathing, Jisung questions, “What makes you so sure?”

“She’s a slut, Jisung. She’s always wanted to get with one of us. Why do you think she was after you? She’s just a lonely slut looking for some dick.”

Jisung knows better, he knows your likes and dislikes, she knows that you would never value sex over anything. He knows you’re not any of the things Jeno says you are. “That’s not true… she’s not a.. slut.”

Jeno scoffs before nudging Jisung slightly. “Come man, don’t be like that, I’m just saying the truth, she’s just a little whor-“

Jisung’s face flushes with anger and his hands begin to shake, before moving on their own and landing a punch on Jeno’s ill speaking lips, causing his head snap back at the force.

His fingers graze the fresh cut on his lip as he sends Jisung an incredulous look. “What the hell, Jisung?”

Jisung can’t believe he just did that, however, the adrenaline and anger provoked action felt amazing. Protecting and defending you felt amazing. And he’s not letting that go now.

It doesn’t feel that good when Jeno lands a punch on his face in return. It makes him dizzy for a second, the world spinning while he tries to recover from the blow the stronger boy has given him.

A sudden determination comes over him, and suddenly he’s straddling Jeno while landing punches on the boy’s already bleeding face, Jeno gets in his blows too. Busting Jisung’s lips and bruising his skin for sure.

It’s unknown to Jisung how long the fight lasts, or how long it takes for the coach to notice what was going on before he leaves the field and rushes into the dugout to stop the fight.

The Coach’s voice sounds distant to Jisung’s ears when he yells for the to break it up, like hes at the bottom of a swimming pool at a party, listening to the music, talking and laughing of the people above the surface. “Park, Lee! Break it up!”

The two boys are relentless, struggling against each other on the dirty ground of the dugout. One is battling for his own pride and image but the other battling for so much more: for the person he was, for the girl he left behind all because this toilet licking asshat baseball jock told him he wasn’t good enough.

This is it. Jeno can’t control him anymore.

Arms wrap around Jisung’s waist and pull him off of Jeno, who continues to glare and yell things at Jisung that he can’t make out as Coach Suh drags him out of the dugout away from Jisung. The person carrying him pushes him on to the bench of the dugout. His closest friend, Chenle, begins to speak.

“What the hell was that, man?” Chenle questions, looking at his best friend with a look that was both confused and concerned. Jisung feels the eyes of the entire baseball team on him. It makes him a bit uneasy but even then, he replies as calmly as he could.

“He was saying stuff about Y/N.” Chenle immediately calms, knowing the struggles his best friend has with the girl in question. However, another curious player makes his own question for the boy.

“Bro, why do you care? I thought your parents were making you babysit her?” He is taken aback by the reply he is given.

“I care because I’m in fucking love with her, man.” Jisung drops his head into his hands, not in shame, but in frustration. Because those words feel so good coming out of his mouth; so honest and pure. And he held back from saying them all these years due to his own cowardly mindset. He ruined all his chances to be with you and betrayed your trust beyond repair. Before he can stop them, tears flood his eyes and a sob claws its way up his throat.

The other players watch their teammate break down after proclaiming his love a girl in shock, standing still, not knowing what to do. Chenle is the first to react by approaching his friend, carefully saying: “You should take a shower to cool off, it’ll help you.”

Jisung nods weakly and lets his friend lead him to the locker room.

As he watches the distraught Jisung disappear into the locker room, another player goes on a guilt fueled search for Y/N.

The sound of your footsteps echo off the walls of the empty hallway, you’re absolutely positive all the students are at the game. You bitterly think of all the plans you and Jisung had made for this very day. How you guys would get milkshakes after they won, how after the season was over you were planning to tell Jisung how you felt and especially about how all those plans were crushed under the rough soul of Jisung’s playing shoes.

You sigh as you make your way towards the entrance, ready to curl up in bed and forget the world (something you have been getting exceptionally good at recently). When you figure out that -once again- the universe has different plans in store for you.

The universe comes in form of player number 13, Jaemin Na, clutching on your wrist and halting all of your movements. “Y/N?”

Once your mind registers the face in front of yours, you instantly rip your hand out of his grasp. “What do you want?”

Jaemin looks slightly defeated at the sound of your tone but tries his best to explain the situation. “Look, I know that I have been absolutely terrible to you throughout the years, i'm sorry about that and I understand if you don’t want to hear a single word i have to say but this is about Jisung.”

You ears practically perk up at the mention of his name and you grow concern as you ponder what it is Jaemin could be talking about. “What happened to Jisung?”

“There was a fight during the game today, Jisung was involved.”

“He was involved? Is he okay?” You don’t bother to hide the concern in your voice when you throw the questions at the boy in front of you.

“He’s fine, physically. But I think he needs you right now, Y/N.”

You look at the boy incredulously for a few seconds before looking down when you realize that he was serious about his words. You wrap your arms around yourself before shaking your head. “No… he can’t need me, he said I was nobody to him.”

Jaemin scoffs at walks closer to you making direct eye contact, “I don’t know what he said before, but the reason he got into a fight with Jeno was because he was saying some shit about you.”

“What?”

“And he just told the whole baseball team that he was in love with you.”

“WHAT?”

You try your best to process that information, staying silent while Jaemin stands anxiously in front of you.

“You love him too, Y/N.”

You stare at him while you think.

What if this ends up just like last time? With your heart in a million pieces all because of Jisung’s unhealthy concern over his reputation? But he said he loved you, and in front of the whole baseball team, apparently.

So what does this mean? What should you do? What if now Jisung is ready to be there for you like he couldn’t be before? Maybe you’ll get the happy ending 14 year old you always wanted…

“He needs you, y/n. Please.” Jaemin pleads, his eyes staring into yours and suddenly everything clicks.

He needs you. Like…really needs you. And before he was the boy who left you stranded and broke your heart, he was your best friend who was always there for you whenever you needed him.

You throw all selfish feelings to the wind and nod your head towards Jaemin, who sighs in relief.

You go to turn before stopping in your tracks and facing the baseball player, who looks at you with a confused expression. You smile softly at him, “I forgive you, Jaemin.”

You miss his teary smile as only seconds later your taking off down the hall in direction of the baseball field.

After asking around, you finally get the information that Jisung was currently in the locker room. Which you stand in front of, breathing in deeply before pushing open the door.

Most of the players have gone home, resulting in you being greeting with an empty locker room. The only sound is that of a single shower turned on and the silent sniffles of the boy you were searching for.

“Jisung?” You say hesitantly, taking small footsteps towards the showers. He doesn’t reply.

You knock softly on the shower door, “Jisung, it’s me. Are you okay?”

He sniffles once again, though this time, you can tell he’s trying to sound fine. “Yes.”

Not convinced, you say in a gentle tone: “Can you come out?”

It takes a few moments before you hear the stream of water silence and the towel hung up on the shower down disappears from your view. Then the door opens revealing Jisung, who’s hair is sleek against his forehead and his eyes are trained towards the floor. You can’t help but gasp as you see his face, cut and bruised, it makes your heart hurt. There’s nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips, which allow you a full view of his bruised torso.

You want nothing more than to take his face in your hands and somehow take all his pain away. “Jisung…”

“Hi.”

If you thought you had Jisung at his worst, you were wrong. Not only was he physically hurt. His eyes were bloodshot and his bony shoulders hang low from exhaustion. He looks so vulnerable, standing basically naked in front of you, looking like the world just betrayed him in the cruelest of ways.

You do the only thing you can think of doing. You reach forward and pull his body against yours, hugging him close.

It takes him some time for him to hug you back, but eventually his arms wrap around you slowly before they completely engulf you, pressing you harder against him. He lets the tears fall from his eyes and onto you shoulder, his body shaking with sobs.Your bodies slowly sink down until you’re both sat on the floor, his significantly larger frame fitting into your arms as you continue to hold him tight, letting him cry into your neck and chest. His large hands hold onto you, tightly gripping your clothes and bringing your body closer to him.

You stroke his hair in an attempt to calm him, gently telling him It’s okay, that you’ll be here until he’s okay. And to not worry, that you’re not going anywhere.

Your words make Jisung look up at you with blood shot eyes, sniffling softly. His eyes search yours for any hint of insincerity but all he finds is the comforting, caring gaze of his best friend. He smiles although ever so lightly. Your hands move to his face and you use your thumbs to wipe his tears away. You lean forward and press a soft kiss to his forehead.

“Let’s go home, okay?”

It isn’t until 3 days after you drop Jisung off at his house that afternoon that you finally see him again.

3 days of planning scenarios out in your head on how you would go about this moment when it finally arrived and pondering whether Jisung meant every word he said that day. If he’s finally ready and what that would mean for you two.

These led you to right now, laying in bed staring restlessly at the ceiling, when your phone suddenly illuminates, a loud ‘ding!’ sounding through the room. Before checking your phone, you look towards your bedside table where you alarm read in bright read letters: 2:56am.

Confused, you grab your phone to see who could be messaging you at the ungodly hour.

You gasp slightly and feel your heart rate pick up as you see the notification.

jisung park [2:54am]: come to your window.

You hesitate, wondering why he wanted to talk now of all times, but eventually find yourself slowly walking towards your bedroom window. Once you arrive, you see Jisung, who had been looking at your window expectedly only to nervously look away when you came into his line of vision. You can’t make out what expression he is wearing but you’re aware of his nervousness, that matches your own.

Jisung looks down at his lap, where his phone was, taking it into his hands and waving it slightly at you. You nod, and even though you were expecting his phone call you still startle when the ringtone blasts through the room. Jisung watches carefully as you pick up your phone, silent raising it to your ear.

The silent remains, the only noise present is the sound each other’s breathing through the phone. After some seconds, Jisung is the first to speak.

His soft voice sounds so hurt and broken in your ear, it takes you back to that time in the locker room when you held him in your arms as he cried, “Y/N…”

“Jisung,” you pause, “what are you doing up so late?”

He chuckles bitterly, wiping away a tear you hadn’t known was falling. “I couldn’t sleep, and I just… wanted to see you.” Jisung avoids your eyes, and picks sadly at the cracking paint of his window frame.

“Are you sure that’s the only reason?” You ask. Jisung finally looks at you, before slowly shaking his head.

He breathes in deeply and keep his eyes on yours. His gaze is intense enough to make you feel like he was in the same room and not in completely different houses.

“I’m sorry for what happened,” you grip your phone tighter at his words. “At the locker rooms that day and all those years ago when I told you I didn’t want to be friends anymore. I just… wanted to be on the baseball team so bad and I wanted to have this high school fantasy that I saw in all the movies and I let Jeno get into my fucking head, I believed him when he told me that the me I was then was worthless, and that I had to leave everything behind to be like him. I believed him like such a fucking pussy, y/n. And I hurt you. Over and over again because of my god forsaken reputation that he kept telling me I had to keep.” He raises his free hand in frustration, “and this reputation took so much out of me, it was like whenever I looked in the mirror I was this manufactured version of myself that I created just to satisfy Jeno and the rest of the man-eating toilet licking baseball jocks,” you chuckle softly as you recognize those words as your own, “and then you came back into my life… and at first I thought that I could do it, that I could keep this front up but I was wrong. Because the second you came back to me, I already felt like myself again. It was like an instinct to be my unfiltered self around you and it scared me so bad, y/n. It scared me because I liked being myself with you so much and I couldn’t hide it…” he breathes in, “so I allowed myself to keep you a secret, and to hurt you and treat like a guilty pleasure all because I wanted Jeno to think I was one of them. And now I realized that I don’t have to be like him or anything he wants me to be,” Jisung’s pleading gaze looking at you through your window and you realize that your own eyes are leaking tears on to your cheeks, which you brush away, “I just wanted to be yours, and I’m sorry that I didn’t put you first like I should have.”

When you don’t say anything he adds, “I’m sorry for ranting so much, I j-“ Jisung stops talking as he sees you shaking your head.

“Don’t be sorry, Jisung.” You take a minute to compose yourself. You take a minute to think if what you are gonna ask of him is even reasonable on any level, or if it even makes sense. Ultimately, you decide that nothing that has happened in the last 4 years has really made any sense at all, there was no use in trying now.

“Can you come over?”

You watch Jisung’s expression turn from anxious to shocked in a matter of seconds, “wh- now?”

You now assertedly, “Yes, now.”

Jisung ponders over it for a few seconds before nodding, “okay. Yeah.”

You hang up first and walk away from the window,.

You move towards your closet, taking out the box you had stored Jisung’s belongings in. You search for the worn down envelope you had stored all his letters in, you take out the one he had stored in your sweatshirt and run downstairs.

The desperate need to see Jisung overcomes you, your feet moving quickly towards your front door which you hastily rip open to reveal the face of the boy that occupies the majority of thoughts.

You catch of his open bedroom window behind him, and his disheveled hair, a clear indication that he snuck out that way. Your eyes widen, “Did you just jump off the roof your house?”

Jisung breathlessly looks back at his two story house and nods, “I guess I did,” He looks back at you, explaining, “It would've been too noisy to go out through the front door.”

His serious expression reminds you of why you called him here in the first place.

You hesitantly hold up the note to his face:

‘My y/n, please understand and please keep me as your favorite boy after this. I’m so sorry. When it’s time, please forgive me -Jisung’

He looks down in shame when he sees the note, the regret of his actions behind the note washing over him as soon as he finished reading it over. You shake your head at his actions and reach forward to grab his chin, stepping into his line of vision. Once you’re assured that you two are holding steady eye contact, you begin to speak. “Don’t feel bad, please. I brought this down here so you could see it and know that… I forgive you, Jisung. For everything. Now that i know why you did what you did, everything feels so much better. I thought that you had dropped me because you didn't want you me anymore and I was so scared and upset and I told myself I would never talk to you ever again. I told myself that I didn't need you. But I did. I still do.” You stop to collect your thoughts momentarily, “When you left there was a Jisung shaped hole in my life that couldn't be filled by anyone and when you came back, you fit right in like you had never left and everything was just so … perfect. It was like I was not really me while you were gone, it was so weird.”

Jisung nods, “I felt the same way.” This makes you smile, which makes him smile.

“I think that the reason I was able to keep up that front for so long, because we weren't together, I don’t know what it is but you are the best part of me, and without i felt like an… unfinished puzzle.”

He watches you nod eagerly as you agree, “Yes!”

You two stay in a comfortable silence for a few seconds before you’re stepping forward so that your faces where less than an inch away, Jisung looks down at you before smiling and wrapping you in his arms.

He feels emotional suddenly, the very fact that he has finally achieved the one thing he’s wanted for the past four years: your complete forgiveness. Jisung grips your clothing and pulls you closer, assuring that every part of your body is pressing against his. “I’m-“ he cuts himself off as he hesiatates, “I don’t know if this is too sudden or anything but I just- I wanted to- I- fuck-“

You can’t help but chuckle at his nervous stuttering, you pull away from your hug and look at the once again nervous boy. “What is it?”

Jisung breathes in, “The day you overheard Jeno and I had bought you this,” He shrug off the backpack you don’t notice he had on and reaches inside of it pull out what looked like an animatronic penguin holding a pink heart that read, ‘I love you’. “I was going to give to you that day and like confess? I guess, I didn’t know what you were gonna say when you told me to come over but I figured if I bought it I should give it to you.” His hand comes up to rub the back of his neck in a nervous habit. “I was going to tell you how I felt that day, but you know things didn’t go as planned that day. And if you don’t feel the same that’s totally fine, I just.. wanted you to have it.”

You breathe in to speak when you thought his rambling had come to an end but Jisung stops, he leans down quickly to set the penguin on the floor of you patio before pressing a button. Music plays from the toy as it cutely dances. “It… dances.”

Jisung is sweating. You almost feel bad for him. “I can see that.” You reply with a chuckle.

It dawns on you that there was nothing (nothing) more Jisung, than this.

There’s nothing more Jisung than him standing in front of you, sweating, confessing to you with an animatronic dancing penguin.

Nothing so Jisung, nothing so like the boy you love.

Suddenly, you’re stepping over the penguin separating you two, and closing all the distance between you and Jisung, crashing your lips onto his. It takes the shocked boy a few seconds to process the situation, before his hands are finding their place on either side of your face. The way he moves his lips against yours is clumsy, but it’s everything you could’ve ever imagined.

Jisung sighs, and you can tell it’s everything he’s ever wanted too. He attempts to pull you as close to him as physically possible, wanting nothing more than to be closer to you.

You pull away for air, but don’t move away from Jisung, who breathes deeply through his smiling, pink and swollen lips. He laughs breathlessly, “oh my god.”

His laughter produces a chuckle of your own. “What?”

He shakes his head, smiling. His forehead rubs against your as he does so, and his hair tickles your face. “I’m so in love with you.” He watches you with soft eyes.

You think that your heart is past the point of just bursting; it's like an atomic bomb that is capable of wiping out the entire population if Jisung didn’t stop being so damn cute.

You peck his lips softly before hugging him tight. “And I love you.”

And there you stay, until the sun rises and shines upon the two of you, whispering faint confessions of love to each other over and over while the penguin continues to sing It’s cheery tune next to you.

“What the f-“ your mother stops in her tracks as soon as she opens her front door to find you and Jisung asleep on the patio of her house, curled up to one another for warmth.

She looks around confusedly, wondering what the hell happened last night. But then she notices the way Jisung’s arm wraps around you tightly, keeping you close and the way you hands grip his clothes even while you sleep and she thinks she has an idea of what went on here last night.

After snapping a picture of you two to send to Jisung’s mother, she watches you and sighs, making eye contact with brightly colored penguin standing by her feet.

“What are we gonna do with them?”

[1 year later, Senior Prom]

“I still don’t get why we can’t just get ready together.”

You sigh as Jisung complains through the phone for what feels like the 100th time. “I already told you Jisung, I want you to be surprised when you see me! Remember that I’m not just your best friend anymore, I’m your girlfriend now, and I wanna look pretty for you.”

“You always look pretty to me.”

“I know! I just- It’s prom, okay? I want it to be perfect.”

“It will be, okay? Come to your window.”

You do as he says and peek through your window to see an extremely not ready looking Jisung through his window. “Jisung! Prom is in an hour!”

“I know. I just wanted to be alone with you for a bit before we have to spend the whole night with our friends.” He pauses, and points to the window frame recalling the memory of last fall when he did this exact same thing fri the first time, “it’s like we’re hanging out, isn’t it cool?”

You chuckle lightly, “Very funny.”

“Come on, y/n! Don’t you think I look better in my jersey anyway?” You take notice of the familiar jersey that is draped over his frame. It’s his baseball jersey that he never seems to take off ever since he was named Captain of the team when Jeno was kicked off last fall. And though he should be already wearing his tux, you’ll admit that the jersey does look a different kind of hot on him.

“It’s not that bad.”

He laughs at your comment and takes a breath to speak, before being interrupted by his mother coming into his room and yelling at him to hurry up and get ready. He sighs and tells her he’s on it. “I guess that’s my cue.”

“I’ve been telling you it’s your cue for the past 4 hours.” You say playfully, Jisung laughs. You watch him reach for his towel and throw it over his shoulder, waving at you through the window.

“I love you, babe.”

You smile when he says that, feeling like it’s the first time he’s ever said it. “I love you too, silly.”

“Ohhh, are you blushing? That’s so cute!” He coos point a finger at you through the window.

“Go get ready!” You say in stern yet playful voice as you attempt to conceal your flustered date from your boyfriend. He laughs and says he’s going before hanging up to phone and leaving you to finally get ready in peace.

“Woah.”

Is all Jisung can say when he finally sees you. You walk down the steps of your house to meet him at his car, the tail of your dress flowing behind as you approach him.

Now, Jisung always thought you were the most beautiful person in the world but… shit! You look so gorgeous. You give him chills.

“Jisung?”

He realizes he’s just been frozen this whole time, and finally takes action reaching into his car and bringing out the corsage he bought to match your dress. He puts it on you, and steps back to admire you. Jisung takes a deep breath through his mouth and leans back, dramatically. The dramatic action from your boyfriend causes you to laugh. “What?”

“You look like… ugh! You’re so beautiful.” He reaches forward and brings his hands to your face, bringing you closer and pecking your lips lightly as to not ruin your lipstick. You laugh and step back to admire your boyfriend.

His black tux suited him well, and his hand styled his hair up for the night, giving him a cooler and sharper look to the one you’re used to. You like it. You liked it a lot. “What about you? You look like a million bucks! All the girls are gonna be all over you.” You say it jokingly, but Jisung leans forward once again.

“Too bad I’m taken, and I’m whipped too so I wish them luck trying to get through to me.”

Yo laugh at his words and push his shoulder lightly. He smiles at you and attempts to wink, only fail miserably and a laughing fit to interrupt in between you two.

After posing for pictures at your mothers in front of your house for what feels like forever, you and Jisung finally arrive at prom. Jisung holds your hand as he walks in.

Chenle and Jaemin, two of his friends from the baseball team you had grown fond of, and Renjun find you guys first, immediately pulling you to the remotely empty dance floor. “Guys, no one is even dancing yet!” You exclaim, to which Chenle shrugs.

“Then let’s be the first!”

And so that how you spent the rest of your night between dancing with your own friends and Jisung’s friends you find yourself barely having any alone time with your boyfriend.

You search for him in the crowd as the announcer introduces the prom royalty competition, that is until his name is called out and he goes up to the stage to accept his crown. You watch confusedly and amusedly as Jisung awkwardly accepts his flowers and allows the women to put the crown on his head. You laugh as he meets your eyes, sending you an awkward smile.

“And the prom queen of the class of 2020 is…” she read the card and smiles brightly, “Y/N Y/LN!”

You freeze when you hear that. Jisung brightens up on stage, cheering. You stay in your spot until Renjun is ushering you to the stage to accept your crown. He helps you step onto the stage and you thank him, when you finally reach the stage, you (just as awkwardly as Jisung) accept your crown and bouquet.

People in the crowd cheer for their favorite couple when the announcer says it’s time for the king and queen to have a dance.

Thus you have your first dance with Jisung of the night. And the way Jisung is looking at you almost makes you forget that literally everyone staring at you right now. You smile and pull him closer. He chuckles, “This plastic crown really suits you, it brings out the color of your eyes.”

You snort as you two continue to sway gently side to side. “I know, it’s a good look.” You poke his own plastic accessory as he laughs.

You two dance in comfortable silence before Jisung says in a soft voice, “I’m like... really in love with you.”

You laugh bashfully before looking at your boyfriend. “I’m crazy in love with you too, Jisung Park.”

It dawns on Jisung how much he has changed in the past 5 years of his life. From your best friend, to the boy that broke your heart, to the baseball jock, then to the boy that broke your heart again and finally to your boyfriend. (He stills thinks about what happened with a heavy heart but knows that maybe things wouldn’t be the way they are now if they had never occurred.) He turned from a nervous kid who let his bully get the best of him to a bright young man who was willing to do anything for the girl in the pretty dress in front of him. He smiles as he realizes what he can do now that he had gotten over his fears.

“Watch this.”

You have no time to react as he suddenly grips your waist tighter and brings you closer so he could press his lips to yours. In front of all the people watching you, -which included teachers!- you hear Jaemin whistle and laughs into the kiss, causing Jisung to laugh as well. He pulls away.

“It feels so good that everyone knows you’re my girl.”

He then pulls you in for another kiss and another and another and another. He basically kisses you for the rest of the night and you can’t find anywhere in yourself to complain because you admit it also feels absolutely amazing to have everyone know Jisung is yours.

Now you know why everyone always said senior year is the best year of your life.

#nct dream scenarios #nct jisung #jisung park #nct dream jisung #nct imagines #nct fanfiction #nct angst #nct smut #nct fluff #xiaodejunletsact #nct #wayv scenarios #nct 127 #wayv #nct dream #nct mark

4K notes · View notes

writersrealmbts · 4 years

Text

A Natural: Part 5

Description: Hybrid!Taehyung x Reader: You’re a single mom, and your son is your entire world. When you take him to get his first hybrid, his choice is pretty bewildering, until you realize that he was picking out a dad.

Posted: 05/24/2020

Tags: Taehyung, Hybrid Taehyung, Human Reader

Wordcount: 1,906

A/N: Oh look, another series that was never supposed to be a series. And I had to pick a new series gif because it wouldn’t show up.

Taehyung woke you up gently, pressing kisses to your cheeks, nose and forehead.

You sighed and stretched. “Mmm, what time is it?”

“Seven,” He whispered, tilting your chin slightly so he could kiss your lips. “You said you wanted to get there early.”

You nodded. “It’s his first day of physical therapy. He was scared. Jin send any updates?”

“Haven’t checked. You okay?” He asked, feeling your forehead.

“Just tired. Always tired. I wish there was a miracle cure that I could give him. Or that I could take his pain and he could continue to be my rambunctious baby.” You buried your face in his shoulder, sighing in frustration.

The past three weeks had been exhausting. You couldn’t recall a single night where you felt like you went to bed with some scrap of mental, emotional, or physical strength. They had woken Theo up about a week and a half after he was admitted, and he had taken it well since he was still so groggy. But you hardly left his side for the first three days. The only reason you left on the fourth was because of work. You had to pay for the medical bills somehow. Now they were thinking he was healed enough to start some very minor physical therapy. He didn’t have feeling from about mid-shin down, but his brain had healed well. The doctors didn’t think there was any lasting damage now. He got the casts off of his legs and his collarbone was healed, so they were really happy with how he was recovering so far.

Taehyung spent most of his days at the hospital, and Jin and Jimin alternated nights to help you two out.

Yoongi bought you lunch most days, and visited Theo on the weekends. Bringing movies to binge and board games to play.

Theo always perked up when Yoongi got there on Saturday morning.

Namjoon brought Hoseok whenever the two didn’t have too much work, and he would bring in music stuff—instruments or tracks—to entertain Theo.

Theo loved Namjoon’s music visits, just as he loved music class the most.

Hoseok still had to catch up on some grading, and recovering his class from a week with a substitute teacher on top of his own bit of physical therapy for his leg injury. He still obviously felt guilty, but he also helped Theo learn things he was missing in class. He had told you that the kids would ask after Theo, and they even sent in get-well-soon cards.

Theo kept saying he couldn’t wait to go back to school.

Jimin drew cartoons on Theo’s casts before they were removed and Theo loved them so much that he insisted Jimin teach him how to draw, and now there were drawings everywhere.

Taehyung kissed your collarbone. “Hey, you okay?”

“Just…waking up.” You curled into him.

He chuckled sleepily. “No, you’re not.”

“Are you telling me that you’re awake?”

He gave a sleepy sounding hum. “Not really, but I know we need to get up.”

You nodded, yawning into his chest and then rolling away from him and getting up in one movement.

“Hey, Jimin texted me to call him,” Taehyung said, frowning at his phone.

You sighed. “It probably has something to do with his parents. You better call him.”

He made an almost growling sound at the mention of Jimin’s parents—who had been a continual pain in the ass through this whole process—but he calls Jimin.

You don’t pay attention much while he talks to Jimin, getting ready for the day, and only noticing that something was wrong when Taehyung growls again.

He’s pacing along his side of the bed, not saying anything but there’s a steady growl in his throat. “He starts his therapy today!”

You flinch when he scoffs, and worry fills you at the frown creasing his forehead.

“What am I supposed to tell Y/n, Jiminie?!”

“I’d suggest the truth if you want everyone to live,” You said, eyes narrowed.

He looked up and gulped. “Can I make him explain it?”

You were already in front of him, taking the phone. “What’s going on?”

“My parents…they caused a scene here and the doctors decided to reschedule his physical therapy…since my parents ordered a DNA test.” Jimin sounded apologetic.

“What do they expect to get from a DNA test?” You asked, feeling bile rise in your throat.

“I don’t know, but I’m on top of it, they won’t make a move I don’t know about. I’ll stay with him all day, okay?”

“Jimin, why did they order a DNA test?”

He was quiet, and you heard him huff out a breath. “Because they want to see if he’s actually who we claim and maybe add him to their will if he is,” He said, sounding frustrated.

“Which means they’d try to take him away from me?”

“Possibly. If you didn’t want to comply with their standards.”

“Which I won’t.” You glared at the wall. “Your family sucks.”

“I know. It’s probably better if you stay away, though, that’ll delay things because they need your permission to do the DNA testing.”

You froze. “But—”

“I’ll keep her away,” Tae said, loud enough to be heard, and taking the phone. “Call us if Theo needs her.”

You stared in disbelief as he said goodbye to Jimin and then hung up.

He looked back at you. “It’s for the best, anyway. You’re exhausted.”

“I can’t sleep, not now,” You argued.

“There’s more than just physical exhaustion,” He rebutted, then leaned in and kissed you. “He’s safe with friends. Yoongi will be there later today, with Namjoon and Jimin, just like they planned and they’ll play games with Theo.”

“I barely ever there—”

“You practically live there,” He cut you off with a whine. “Please, I know you’re tired. I know. It’s been a really hard month. But Theo’s being looked after really well. All of the nurses adore him because he’s so sweet and polite. It’s time to take care of yourself.”

You tilted your head, at a loss for words.

He stepped closer, and arms wrapping around your waist after he tossed the phone onto the bed. His lips met yours softly. “It’s time to forget you’re a mom for a few minutes. Just…be you. Be who you were before you were a mom.”

“I don’t know who that is,” You whispered.

“Then just be the person you are with me,” He whispered back, voice low and deep.

You sighed and surrendered to him, allowing him to pull you into a series of lingering kisses.

“Dress up a bit, lets go out.” He murmured, tail swooshing behind him. “Or, well…let’s go for a picnic.”

You stepped back slightly, uncertain.

“Please, Y/n. We both need to let go for a while.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek.

And you gave in, nodding. “Okay, but…I don’t know…I don’t want to deal with other people.”

“Then we’ll have a picnic in the backyard. You get ready, and I’ll go get things set up and then if you could make us sandwiches?”

You nodded.

“Then we’ll have a nice little date,” He said, grinning at you as his fingers brushed your cheek. Then his shoulders scrunched happily with his face and he practically skipped out of the room. “Remember, wear pretty clothes!”

“O-okay…” You called back, then frowned at your closet door. “I don’t know if I have anything?”

You went into your closet, looking for something pretty that was also middling between casual and Easter Sunday high teas that you used to go to at your grandmother’s senior home while she was alive.

Instead you found frustration and work clothes. Some clothes you might wear to parent-teacher conferences, or to one of the school events.

But the only date-like thing you found in your closet was from before Theo was conceived and you weren’t about to try that on. You knew how your body had changed since then and didn’t need the reminder from your closet. You’d sort of squeezed into it the last time you’d worn it anyway, and you had more hip now.

Sure, you probably had more clothes in that box, but you knew most of the clothes in ther

Taehyung came back when you had been in there for too long. “What’s wrong?”

“No clothes,” You muttered. “Nothing to wear.”

He tilted his head, then came over to look through your clothes. He pulled out a sweater and a skirt, handing them to you. “It’s a little cold outside, so maybe leggings?”

You looked over the outfit and then at him, surprised. “Um…yeah…okay.”

He nodded and walked out. “I’ll make sandwiches!”

You heard your bedroom door close, and started changing. You were surprised at how well he managed to find an outfit for you, but then again, he dressed so well himself, even on a minimal budget.

And it was a nice, casual date outfit.

You did your hair a little, and your makeup a little more. Actually put on earrings and a necklace.

Taehyung was plating sandwiches, making things look nice.

You looked outside in surprise. “It’s raining?”

He looked out as well. “Yeah. It just started. But we can still have a picnic. It’ll just have to be a living room picnic. I already cleared the space and….” He trailed off when he looked at you. His expression softened and he smiled. “Wow, y/n. You look so beautiful.”

You could have blushed, and you might have blushed from the way he was looking at you. “It’s been a while.”

“You always look beautiful,” He added, sincerity in all of his features and gestures. He took your hands in his, tail slowly swishing. “Thank you for agreeing to do this with me.”

You nodded, looking at the ground, unable to meet his gaze.

“Ooh, can I put a fire in the fireplace?”

You nodded again, stealing glanced at him as he excitedly went to turn on the gas fireplace.

Then he dimmed the lights some, and finished arranging blankets and pillows.

“Alright, I think that covers it, sorry we’re only having sandwiches.”

“I can live with sandwiches,” You replied softly, letting him lead you over to sit in the picnic area. You got comfortable while he hurried back to get the plate of sandwiches. You didn’t know your living room could feel so romantic.

He brought over the food and drinks on the bed-tray, setting it down. “It’s just grape juice, but I thought the glasses made it feel more romantic.”

You smiled. “Does. I didn’t even know the living room could look like this.”

He grinned. “We should make it look like this more often.”

You laughed a little.

He kept your laughing a little as the two of you ate, telling you stories and drawing stories of your family out.

You moved the tray and sat beside him, leaning on his shoulder.

He was still for a moment before relaxing into it. He kissed your forehead, then kept telling you about a movie he had seen.

You stared into the fire, listening to his voice. It was so soothing, so wonderfully perfect.

His lips met yours softly, then parted to lightly brush your cheeks. “I love you, y/n.”

You sighed happily, eyes staying shut. “I love you, Taehyung.”

Previous. Next.

Taehyung Masterpost. Masterlist.

Taglist (must comment on taglist to be tagged from now on)

Tagging: @rosita7703, @ephemeral-mindset @forvever-ddaeng @ncttzuuy @givebuckysomelove @alex--awesome--22 @missmoxxiesworld @bryvada @knjhe @i-dont-even-know-fck @young-yellkie @veryuniquenamegoeshere @lottohsehunnie @briramirezalipio

Unable to tag: @bunnyboyenthusiast (think you changed to @kthstrawberryshortcake please let me know if I’m wrong or right because I have you listed for multiple stories)

#single mom reader #kim taehyung #taehyung #bts v #reader x taehyung #taehyung x reader #hybrid!taehyung #kim taehyung x reader #hybrid!au #hybrid!bts #bts #bts fic #bts x reader #adoptedfather!taehyung #parent au #a natural fic

294 notes · View notes

naughtyneganjdm · 5 years

Text

The Guest - Chapter 1

Summary: Negan is a friend of the reader's (OC) father and comes to spend a few weeks with the family. It's the summer before going off to college and the reader finds herself caught up in a steamy relationship with Negan.

Characters: Negan, the reader (OC)

Warnings: Swearing, Dirty Talk, Heavy Touching, Negan being Negan, Age Difference

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20333263

Notes: This was another request that I was given a very long time ago. I wrote a lot of this a very long time ago, so that's just a pre-warning and this story is just going to be VERY smut driven. Small reminder, Y/N often means your name, but if you would rather the character have a different name this is where you would put it. Thanks again to anyone that reads it!

An emergency text was not something that Y/N was often used to from her parents. So when she was out with her friends and her mother sent her a text that they needed her help immediately, she quickly rushed home. Something like that meant it must have been pretty serious.

Quickly stepping inside of her home, she immediately heard the sounds of crashing upstairs and felt her heart rate quicken. Moving toward the stairs she followed the sounds and immediately thought the worst. Letting out a frustrated sound when she made it up the stairs, she saw that some of her personal items were lined up in the hallway stacked. It was an emergency her mother labeled this as.

Hearing a grunt, she looked down to the end of the hall where her entertainment room she had set up was and saw her father carrying some more of her things out of the room. When he had noticed her standing in the hallway confused, he let out an excited breath.

“What’s going on?” she followed her father to the room that was beside hers and she looked inside to see that the room was torn apart. Originally, it was just a room that her parents had thrown random things in. For years she had begged for an entertainment room for herself and when her parents told her she could do it if she cleaned everything out, she had quickly jumped on the idea over a year ago. It had taken her a while to get the room to what she had wanted so to see them tearing apart the room made her mad.

“Honey, so glad you’re home!” her father boasted before nodding back toward the room. “We need you to clean up the rest of your crap.”

“What are you guys doing? You’re kicking me out of my rooms already? I know I’m going to college after this summer, but I didn’t think you were this ready to get rid of me,” she huffed and her father chuckled from where he was as he continued to dig through a few things. She wanted to complain about this. About them tearing apart all she had put together, but she knew it would fall on deaf ears. That’s just the kind of people her parents were.

“Funny,” her mother snorted from where she was on the ground and Y/N turned to look at her. “Your dad has a friend that is coming over to spend a few weeks with us here. We just need to make sure everything is all set up in here before he gets here tomorrow. We don’t need all of your stuff in here. It has to be like the guest bedroom it was meant to be.”

“A few weeks?” Y/N repeated with a half laugh, looking at the room. There was a sense of disappointment at the sight of all that effort and all that time wasted. “I thought we’d be spending more time together as a family since this is my last summer before taking off to college. This friend of yours…”

“Honey, don’t start,” her mother interrupted before she could get upset any further with their decision. “It’s daddy’s friend Negan, you remember him, right?”

Y/N coughed. Negan? Negan was going to be staying with them for a few weeks? Living in the room next to hers?

“Negan?” Y/N repeated, feeling her cheeks blushing over at the thought of her father’s friend. “Vaguely.” She lied.

Of course she remembered him. Negan was pretty damn unforgettable.

“You remember him,” her mother waved her hand dismissively when she continued to poke at things. “You’ve had a crush on him since the moment he chased down that guy dressed up as a monster at that amusement park for scaring you when you were little. Punched the guy if I remember correctly. You’ve been in love ever since.”

“Mom!” Y/N blurted out when her mother brought up her youth. That was a long time ago. She was eighteen now and that was when she was a child. It was a very long time ago. Her cheeks blushed over further at the thought of what her mother was saying.

A gulp filled the air when she thought about her father’s friend. She had been crushing on Negan for years. Negan would often come to visit for a night here or there, but just for dinner and that was really it. The last few years Negan had really awoken something in her. There was something in the way he would smile that could just make her toes curl. Every time his eyes would make contact with her, her heart would nearly pound out of her damn chest at the sight of him. Whenever Negan was around, he made parts of her tingle and it went to her very core. It was hard to hide how she felt every time he had come over for dinner. The idea that he would be living with them for a few weeks absolutely terrified her. How was she going to control how she felt for him? It made her nervous. Especially since he’d be in the room right next to hers. She really believed Negan to be the man to awaken her sexual desires inside of her. The dreams she had about that man, who was her father’s friend were downright just crude.

“Why is he going to be staying with his?” Y/N tried to inquire further, but her father simply laughed.

“It doesn’t matter why. He needed a place to be, I offered it…end of story. You’ll live without your entertainment room for now. Plus, you’re not going to be here to enjoy it anyways in a few months. So I think you’re going to be just fine,” he grunted before piling a few things up on the ground before him.

“Wow, okay. I’m glad my things just don’t matter anymore,” Y/N was slightly offended in the way her father was talking about her things. She was going to college at the end of the summer, not disappearing forever. After taking a lecture about being upset from her parents, she did what she was asked and cleaned everything up to the point that her parents asked of her.

While she was excited about the idea of seeing Negan, it still made her nervous at the same time and obviously her feelings were hurt about the way her parents acted toward this whole situation. Her parents told her that he would be showing up the next day later in the evening so it at least gave her time to prepare for that. She didn’t want to be acting like a fool around him. Not when she felt for him like she did. She wanted to look good. Show how much she had grown up and she wanted to make a good first impression.

In the morning when she had woken up, everything seemed really quiet. Too quiet for her parents. When anyone was visiting they would have already been up by now preparing everything and cleaning the rest of the house. She could only imagine what they were going to be like today before Negan arrived. Getting out of bed, she headed toward her bathroom that was at the end of the hallway. Hearing the sound of the shower running, she let out a frustrated sound and moved into the bathroom. She wanted to start getting cleaned up too, so she wasn’t going to wait to brush her teeth.

When she stepped inside, she felt the steam from the shower surrounding her and moved for the sink, “What? You guys decide to give Negan your room instead of my entertainment room? I mean, it’s a little late to decide that, don’t you think? I still don’t understand why we had to give up my space for Negan. I feel like you’re going overboard with this whole thing. I don’t ever understand why that guy has to be here for a few weeks anyways.”

With no response, she huffed and bent down to spit out the toothpaste that was in her mouth after brushing her teeth. The sound of the shower turning off was heard and when she lifted up a gasp fell from her lips. Dropping her toothbrush, she could see in the reflection was Negan standing behind her. Turning to face him, she watched him fold his arms out in front of his wet chest when she looked him over. His tall body towered over hers. His wet hair was slicked back and his hazel eyes were on her already like a hawk.

“Negan,” she stammered, not sure of what to say. She was mortified that the man she had been thinking about all night was standing before her. He wasn’t supposed to be there. He was coming later, that’s what her parents told her at least. His jaw clenched, his right eyebrow perking up in a judgmental manner while she stood before him. Her heart was hammering inside of her chest and she felt her breath catch in the back of her throat at the sight of him. “I didn’t…”

Her eyes lowered and realization finally struck her. He was standing before her completely naked and another gasp fell from her throat. Quickly lifting her head, she tried to look away and heard the rumble of a growl that fell from Negan’s lips, “I am so sorry.”

“Don’t be. This asshole here is clearly taking up all of your space and shit,” Negan’s deep voice filled the bathroom and she felt a rush of panic flush through her veins. “Do you always come into the bathroom without knocking first? Is this something I’m going to have to get used to over the next few weeks?”

“No, I just…I thought you were going to be here later and…” she stammered, lowering her head enough to see that his dimples were sucked in and he seemed to be more so amused with her reaction than mad or irritated. Negan’s head tilted to the side and he looked her over before his tongue dragged out over his bottom lip in a seductive sweep. The motion caused her to shudder, but also caused her to be confused at the same time.

“My my…how you have grown,” Negan hummed to himself and a nervous sound fell from her lips before her eyes lowered down his arms that were folded in front of his chest. Her eyes lingered over his tattoos that covered his arms for a moment before her lust got the best of her. Gazing further down, her eyes fell upon his lean torso that led to the lines over his hips leading toward the dark curls of hair that that surrounded the base of his semi erect cock. “Do you like what you see?”

“I just…” she gulped heavily, lifting her gaze up to see Negan unfolding his arms to press his hands into his wet hair to slick it back. She felt all kinds of things at once. Excitement, fear, panic…anything you could think of all in that moment. Part of her wanted to believe this was some kind of sick dream she was having, but she knew better. This was real and she had a very naked Negan standing in front of her. “You being naked is kind of…kind of inappropriate isn’t it?”

“Well you are standing in front of my towel that I set out for myself. I didn’t think that someone would just up and walk the fuck right in,” Negan explained with a tisking sound and she felt a blush filling her face as Negan stepped in closer to her. She jumped and it seemed to amuse him more with his closeness to her. Negan reached out to grab a hold of the towel that was behind her and unfolded it to wipe his face off. His eyes never left hers and it was like he was trying to read her thoughts and know what she was thinking.

“That was an accident,” she insisted and Negan nodded, his hazel eyes staring out at her while he rubbed the towel over the wet planes of his body. He didn’t believe her. Clearly and she felt like she had to defend herself. “I swear my parents said that you were going to be here in the evening. I would have never walked in here if I would have known it was you in here.”

“Right…so you didn’t come in here just to see me naked,” Negan teased further, stepping in closer to her making the distance between them smaller. A breath caught in the back of her throat as she watched his cocky smile expand over his handsome features. The closeness of him brought attention to his wet chest and she couldn’t help herself from glancing down at his body again. “You never answered me by the way. Kinda rude.”

“About what?” she nervously responded as Negan stepped in closer to her. The personal space no longer existed between the two of them as the warmth of his body pressed in against hers. His tall, lean body towered over her and she felt her body trembling at the mere closeness of him. Negan had always teasingly flirted with her in the last year anytime he would come over the house, but she just assumed that was his personality. This, this was way more than anything she had ever experienced with him before. Negan’s finger slid in underneath her jaw to urge her to look up at him. He smirked, a big wolfish one. His breathing was heavy and his eyes focused on her lips for a moment before meeting her glance again. She was trembling and it was obvious.

“I asked if you liked what you saw,” Negan reminded her, leaning forward and whispering in her ear. The warmth of his breath etched over her ear and it caused her to let out a small whimper. Biting into her bottom lip, she felt Negan brushing her hair away from her neck and it caused her tremble against his touch. Negan’s thumb caressed in over the curve of her jaw while his warm breath still continued to tease over the side of her neck with a linger. “Did you like my cock? Since you were staring and all…”

“Negan,” she trembled before him feeling a warmth traveling straight to her core. Goosebumps developed over her body and her mouth was agape. “I don’t--I don’t know.”

“Didn’t get a long enough look? Shit, might as well take another while you still have the chance,” Negan laughed against her flesh noticing the way that he still had her trembling against his touch. His cocky laugh echoed through her ears and her eyes slammed shut. “Don’t want your parents to know what a little pervert you are…”

“My parents,” she gasped being broken from her thoughts and the moment. Going to quickly move out of the bathroom, Negan grabbed a tight hold of her and pushed her back against the counter where she was originally. She was panicking and he could see by the look on her face that the idea of her parents almost scared her away. “If they find me in here…with you…”

“They are out picking things up for breakfast right now at the store,” Negan hushed her, shaking his head before raising his right hand up to press his finger in over her lips to silence her. “We’ve got time.”

Negan’s thumb traced in over her bottom lip, the corners of his mouth expanding into a wide smile again, “So how does my cock compare to the boys that you have seen? Huh? Did you get what you expected when you came in here to spy on me? Everything you ever pictured it to be?”

“Negan, I’ve never really…” she gazed down to take another involuntary look at his manhood. Wetting her lips, she could see that he was harder than before. His length was mighty close to her thigh and she didn’t know how to respond. Negan was awfully close to her and he was still pressing his limits even further. Negan’s nose nestled against the side of her neck and she shuddered against him. “I haven’t really…”

“Haven’t really?” he hummed against the side of her neck, his bottom lip skimming over her flesh with how close he was when he whispered the words.

“I’ve only really seen one in the films if you…get what I’m saying,” she truthfully answered hearing Negan’s laugh fill the air and she suddenly felt embarrassed.

“And you’re eighteen?” Negan confirmed, tipping his head back to look her over with intrigue when she nodded. Another snort fell from him and he bit into his bottom lip. Now she felt stupid for even being honest with him. What the hell was she thinking? “And you’ve seriously never done anything sexual? You’ve never seen a penis in person?”

“No, I’m just telling you that because it’s makes me look cool,” she huffed by his reaction, watching Negan’s thick eyebrows bounce up in intrigue after she rolled her eyes. He was making her feel pathetic and the more he laughed, the more she wanted to leave. Attempting to side step, she felt him shove her back again against the counter and she whined. “I said it because everyone clearly thinks highly of you when they know you aren’t a slut. I get it. I’m a loser.”

“I never fucking said that,” Negan assured her, reaching up to grab a soft hold of her jaw. He shook his head and licked over his lips again. “I’m just amazed. People like you are a rarity in this world. I’m amazed, not calling you a loser.”

There was a silence that filled the air and Negan looked down. She did the same and when they both looked back up toward each other, she could see him bouncing his eyebrow in a suggestive manner.

“Do you want to touch it?” Negan offered catching the way that her face turned pale with the suggestion. “You’re going off to college right? You want to touch it? Get you prepared for what you are about to get yourself into? See how it compares to the average boy your age?”

“It’s…big,” she blurted out and Negan let out a thick laugh, reaching out to curl his finger underneath her chin to urge her to look back up at him again.

“Thank you,” Negan winked, reaching up to cup his hands over her face. “Do you want to touch it? See how big it gets when it’s completely fucking hard. Look at how hard it has gotten already. Just with this playful banter between the two of us. He’d like to be touched by you. I guarantee it.”

She tried to say something and Negan shook his head to silence her, “You’re thinking too much. Just go ahead. Do it. Wrap your palm around it and give it a firm tug. It’s fun…”

“Negan…I don’t think,” she began, hearing the sound of Negan’s thick laughter fill the air as he nonchalantly stepped away from her and moved toward the mirror. Negan wrapped his towel around his waist and hooked it together tightly as she stayed where she was. Her legs were like Jell-O while she watched him get ready. It was like a switch. Negan was hardcore flirting with her and urging her to touch his dick and in a matter of seconds was perfectly fine and acting like nothing had happened at all.

“I was just fucking with you kid. I will be out of here in a minute,” Negan simply muttered making an angered sound fall from her lips when she realized that he was just screwing with her.

“I’m not a kid,” she corrected him and Negan looked to her with an over exaggerated expression before reaching for something from his bag he had in the bathroom. There were so many things she wanted to say to him right now, but instead she decided to move onto what was really on her mind. “Would you mind not telling my parents about me walking in on you…?”

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” Negan winked, looking back at her with an amused expression. The sound of the front door opening downstairs was heard as Negan whistled something to himself. Her heart was still hammering inside of her chest as Negan grabbed his things. Negan gave her a once over and an amused smirk pressed in over his lips when he looked at the cartoon design on her pajamas. “Nice jammies by the way.”

An embarrassed breath fell from her lips when she tugged at the material knowing that she wore those pajamas because they were comfortable. Of course they weren’t sexy or anything of the sort, but his response clearly showed that he thought they were ridiculous. It was a tank top and silly pajama bottoms, but they were comfortable.

“I should probably head out. You might want to take a shower before you go down and see your parents. If you come down flushed and horny like you are right now I don’t think that would be good for you,” Negan winked, reaching behind him to smack her bottom firmly as he moved around her making her jump.

Negan stopped at the door and looked back at her for a moment longer. He bit into his bottom lip and tilted his head to the side, “Seriously though, how wet is that virgin pussy of yours right now?”

“Negan!?” she gasped and heard his laugh fill the small room again.

“Hey, I’m only kidding,” he reached for handle and threw his head around in a dramatic flair. “Kind of.”

Negan gave her a final wink before leaving her in the bathroom alone.

She was completely flustered and he knew that he had done that to her. Had Negan known that she had a thing for her him growing up? Or if he was just out to fuck with her since she was legal now? Either way she could tell that Negan living in her home was going to be trouble.

---

Standing in front of the tall mirror in her bedroom, Y/N pulled at the end of the sundress she was wearing while looking at herself. She thought it would be nice to wear something cute at least around Negan now that she had already made quite the impression. Letting out a frustrated sound, she left her bedroom and headed downstairs. Looking into the kitchen she saw her parents inside cooking, but Negan was nowhere to be found. Her mother made a comment to what she was wearing, but she was proud of it and how it looked. Walking around the first floor, she saw that the back door was open and moved closer to see Negan outside smoking while on the phone.

“I know what you said,” Negan grunted, pulling his cigarette from his lips. The movement caused him to release a long cloud of smoke from between his lips. Negan hissed and clearly the person on the other end of the line was not appealing to him. “I did what you asked! I left, didn’t I? Now you are questioning everything? I can’t do this right now.”

Negan looked back over his shoulder and when he saw her, she watched him tip his head to the side. She felt her heart hammer in her chest damning herself that he had caught her watching him, “We’ll talk later. I think we both need time to think about things.”

Negan hung up his call and wiggled his finger to motion her to come outside with him. Clearing her throat, she pushed the door aside and walked out with him seeing the way he folded his arms out in front of his chest after tossing the cigarette butt aside. He was giving her a very shaming look and she felt very reprimanded by his glare.

“Darlin’, were you just spying on me?” Negan questioned with a deep rumble and she quickly shook her head. “Now don’t bullshit a bullshitter….what did you hear?”

“Only the end, I swear,” she insisted with a nervous breath and Negan dropped his arms. They rested over his hips as he looked her over in a very long movement. “Listen, I just wanted to apologize to you for what happened. I should have never barged in and…”

“What are you apologizing for? Shit, it’s fine,” Negan lifted his gaze to make sure they were alone and he stepped forward, closing the distance between them. A sharp breath escaped her lips when he tipped his head down to look her over. “You put that dress on for me?”

“I just…” she felt his hand sliding in over the side of her body and settling in on her hip. “I shouldn’t have…”

“Gotten a look at what you’ve wanted to see for quite some time? I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me lately. Do you know how many times I’ve caught you staring at my junk when I’ve stood from the table?” Negan clicked his tongue at the top of his mouth and he watched her eyes get big. Her cheeks flushed over with red and he shook his head slowly. “Don’t be embarrassed. I’m flattered really…”

“I swear…” she tried to defend herself, but the pad of his thumb covered her lips and he hushed her once more. A wide, crooked smile pressed in over his ruggedly handsome features and she felt goosebumps developing over her arms.

“No excuses…you’ve wanted to see it for quite some time and you got that shit done. Not a lot of people are brave enough for that shit. That kind of thing just tickles my balls at the thought,” Negan slurred and she felt her heart pounding inside of her chest. Negan looked over her shoulder again to make sure they were still alone and he lowered in closer to her. Her cheeks were flushed over and he hummed to himself. “Tell me, have you masturbated to the thought of me?”

“Negan…” she stammered not sure what to say. His hazel eyes were watching her closely and she felt a chill down the back of her spine.

“Or are you one of those virgins that are completely pure? Because there are those virgins that say they are a virgin, but everything imaginable has been shoved up there. How about you? Have you popped your own cherry or is that safely intact?” Negan grumbled low enough under his breath so only she could hear when he leaned in close to her to whisper. When she let out a shuddering exhale and looked up at him with innocent eyes, an amused laugh fell from his throat. “Fuck…I thought so. You’re pure. So no toys, huh?”

“I don’t know whether you are fucking with me or if you are flirting with me Negan,” she gulped and Negan leaned back enough to look her over. His tongue dragged out over his bottom lip again and his nose wrinkled.

“A little bit of both really,” Negan answered, dragging his thumb over her bottom lip. She let out a shudder when he tugged at the flesh softly before lifting his thumb up to suck at the pad of it. “I never realized how much fun it was going to be staying here.”

“This is inappropriate,” she heard the sound of dishes filling the air, but Negan still had her pulled close when she jumped. His thick eyebrows raised and she felt his hands sliding down over her hips again. His fingertips slid down to the hem at the bottom of the dress she was wearing. His fingertips balled the material in his fingers and he hummed to himself.

“You never told me if you put this on for me…” Negan reminded her, pulling her in closer to him again and she gasped. “What kind of panties do you have on for me?”

“I really…” she felt his rough palm sliding in over the flesh at the back of her thighs and she trembled. She knew that she wasn’t being smooth, but truth be told she liked the attention she was getting from him. Her hand reached up to press in over the center of his chest and she saw the amusement press in over his features. “If my parents hear you talking like this…”

“We’re not gonna let that happen,” he grunted, pulling the dress further up her hips. His large hands flattened out over the area right below her buttocks and she whimpered at the sensation. Negan squeezed and palmed at the flesh before grabbing firmly at her bottom. “Oh sweetheart…you are so fucking fresh.”

Negan slid in closer to her and he swept her hair away from her ear. His lips descended over her earlobe and he growled when he grabbed a firm hold of her bottom, “Tell me darlin’, do you want me to be the one to pop that cherry of yours?”

“I….” she breathed out, leaning back enough to see that his eyes were watching her intensely. She swallowed heavily and balled up the material of Negan’s shirt at the center of his chest. Negan licked his lips and she found the world spinning around her. This all felt like a dream. Negan was coming onto her so hard and the way he was touching her and talking to her was only that of what she had dreamt of in the past. His eyes were nearly eating her alive and she felt her throat going dry. More than anything she wanted Negan to have her, but she knew this was so wrong.

The sound of steps was heard and Negan quickly moved back and away from her. He pulled a cigarette quickly form the pack he was smoking and saw her father motioning them in for breakfast. Negan continued to finish his cigarette and Y/N quickly moved from the back with Negan into the house. She should have found out more from Negan, but she still couldn’t tell if he was fucking with her. Teasing her because that was his personality or if everything he was saying was serious. Her body was still trembling, she couldn’t believe the events that were taking place and she was absolutely stunned with all the things he had been saying. There was a warmth pooling at her core and she knew that it was a feeling that only Negan could pull from her. Had all this stemmed from her barging in on him in the shower or were these things he had been thinking for quite some time? Either way around it, she didn’t know how to respond to everything that was happening. There was both excitement and fear in the way things were going down.

She had quickly made her way to the table and prepared herself for breakfast. Negan was the last one to the table and he took the seat beside her. Not once had he made eye contact with her since he had sat. Her parents made small talk with him and she filtered it out. She was still thinking about the naughty words he had spoken to her. The way he touched her and asked her some of the deepest, most personal questions she had ever been asked.

“You haven’t said much Y/N,” her mother blurt out from across the table at breakfast, making her look up from where she had been pushing at her food day dreaming about all that Negan had said.

“There isn’t much to say,” Y/N replied with a half-smile and she looked to Negan who was slowly chewing while looking over at her. “Just quiet today.”

“I think she’s just nervous being around Negan,” her father spoke up making her choke as she looked to her parents. Negan’s eyebrow perked up in interested as she felt her cheeks flushing over.

“Hey!” she cleared her throat uneasily and shifted in the seat she was sitting in beside Negan. She felt his knee pressed against hers and could hear her parents chuckle after her embarrassed outburst.

“She used to say she was going to marry you when she got older you know,” her mother pointed out making Y/N choke heavier as Negan smirked and looked over at her from where he was sitting. His dimples sucked in when his smile expanded over his features. Y/N was red and as embarrassed as could be. “I think she’s had a crush on you for a long time.”

“Wow, this didn’t just get severely awkward,” a grumble fell from Y/N’s lips as she lowered her head and wished that she could just somehow disappear right now. With all that had happened with Negan today, he probably thought that she was pathetic and a loser after all of that.

After a moment, she felt Negan’s hand pressing in over her knee underneath the table and shifted to lift her head up. Negan’s glance met hers before looking to her parents where they were talking about something still. Their voices became silent to her as Negan’s rough fingertips caressed over her skin.

“I think it’s cute,” Negan insisted with a firm nod, his hand sliding further up her thigh to squeeze over her flesh. A nervous sound was desperate to fall from her lips, but she tried to keep silent knowing that her parents were right across the table. “I mean, I’m honored that you wanted to marry me. I’m not sure your father would be okay with that though.”

“Have you met boys her age? They scare me these days,” her father chuckled and Y/N looked to Negan who was still eating from his plate with his free hand while she felt his other hand sliding further between her thighs. The rough sensation of his fingertips dragged over her leg and she felt her body instinctively sliding down in the chair a bit. Her thighs opened further and she could see Negan’s eyebrow perk up when he noticed. Her body was craving being touched by him and he was definitely taking notice of it. “Not saying I would want her with someone your age, but boys her age are stupid.”

“And suddenly we are talking about my love life,” Y/N let out a sigh, biting into her bottom lip when Negan’s fingers reached her panties. She dropped her fork and Negan shot her a glare knowing that she was reacting too much to his touch. “That should probably be my decision, don’t you think?”

“I know you are eighteen, but if you come home with one of those idiots…I don’t know about that,” her father responded and Y/N swallowed down hard when Negan’s fingertips grazed harder over her panties making her body tremble. Negan gave her a warning look because she was clearly giving up too much in her reactions to his touch. When Negan went to pull his hand away, she grasped it loosely and urged it back to where it was.

Biting down on her bottom lip, she focused on the firm touch of Negan’s fingers tracing over her most sensitive parts beneath the table. It made her feel so naughty doing what she knew would cause complete mayhem if her parents found out. Negan seemed amused as he watched her reaction to every touch. Gradually it got stronger and she could feel him rubbing over her in the areas that she reacted to the most. The friction felt amazing as she licked her lips. Her thighs were trembling and she reached out to grasp his thigh tightly.

“You ready to go check out that car?” her father caught Negan’s attention and she felt Negan’s hand pulling from between her thighs when the attention was fully on him again. A disappointed breath fell from her lips when Negan’s attention was completely off of her. No one had ever touched her like that before and her body was craving more. The heat pooling at her core was driving her crazy and her heart was hammering inside of her chest. She was desperate to have his hand back between her thighs, but it was clear that wasn’t happening.

“Car?” she repeated the words seeing the way that Negan’s smile expanded over his lips and he nodded.

“There is this muscle car that Negan has had his eye on for a while,” her father explained and she looked from her father to Negan, seeing him licking over his bottom lip as he gave her a once over. “It’s an old mustang. So how about it Negan?”

“I’ll be ready, just let me help with the cleanup,” Negan winked and she got up to help clean up the table. Negan followed her into the kitchen and he got to the sink first. He set the plates in and when she moved before the sink, Negan grabbed a firm hold of her hips. He leaned down, his lips beside her ear as he spoke in a rumble. “Now I’m going to have to hang out with your father while looking at this car with a fucking hard on. Thanks a lot.”

Her initial reaction was to bicker back that he was the one that started it, but with the sensation of him nestling his nose against the side of her neck she found herself playing the part, “Prove it.”

“Oh wow…I like that,” Negan grabbed a firm hold of her hips and brought her bottom back to press it against his groin. A surprised sound fell from her lips as she felt his body pressed up firmly against hers. “Is that proof enough for you sweetheart?”

Negan reached between her thighs and urged his fingers up and under her dress again. A deep, guttural moan fell from this throat, “Fuck hun, you are so fucking wet…you liked what Negan was just doing for you in there, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” she moaned out feeling him softly bucking his hips up behind her, rubbing himself against her bottom and making her tremble. She dropped the dishes in the sink, her hands falling to the counter to grip it tightly. Negan’s left hand reached up to grab a firm hold of her jaw to turn her to look at him and it was obvious that she wanted him to kiss her, bad.

“You want me to pop that tight, little virgin pussy don’t you?” Negan slurred, his smile expanding while his eyes centered in over her lips. “Is that how you want to be introduced into womanhood? Having my big…thick cock stretching your virgin pussy?”

“Negan,” she whimpered feeling her body in a state of shock. Between his fingers rubbing through her panties, his hips bucking up against her and his dirty talk, she felt like her body was on fire. The slamming of her heart inside of her chest made the room spin around her and she desperately wanted Negan…and bad. Nodding, she heard him laugh and it was a deep, stretched out laugh that showed his clear amusement with it.

Negan’s caress and movements halted immediately and she watched him wiggle his eyebrow in an over exaggerated moment, “Unfortunately, that could never happen and never will.”

“But…” she panted; pushing at her dress feeling suddenly like a joke as Negan’s nose wrinkled while he looked out at her. “Why?”

“Well, your father is a good friend of mine,” Negan pointed out with a sigh and he straightened his composure when her mother walked into the kitchen with the rest of the plates. He cleared his throat and straightened out his shirt while Y/N clung tightly to the counter. If it wasn’t for her grasp, she was certain she would fall. “It just wouldn’t be right.”

“What wouldn’t?” Y/N’s mother spoke up and Negan was quick to reply.

“Your daughter just made a comment about it being nice that I helped her carry things in. I was saying it wouldn’t be right for me not to help since I was going to be the guest here for a while,” Negan lied and Y/N was going through so many emotions right now that she didn’t know how to respond. Negan looked to her with a wink and his arrogant smile grew deeper. The dimples over his face sank in and he let out a small laugh. “Better get back in there and out into the world so we don’t miss the appointment we have. See you later ladies…”

Y/N wanted to say something, but knew that she couldn’t. Negan gave a small wave before leaving the kitchen and Y/N parted her lips in a desperate moment. God, she was feeling all these emotions and all at once. She was excited, disappointed and sexually frustrated as ever. Had Negan just been fucking with her for payback for her walking in on him earlier? Was he just screwing with her? Did he really mean the things he was saying? Either way around it, she could tell that these next few weeks with Negan were going to be trouble.

#negan #Jeffrey Dean Morgan #Negan smut #negan x reader #Negan's thirst squad #negans-network #Negan fanfiction #The Walking Dead #twd fanfiction #TWD Smut #my writing #500+

1K notes · View notes

bechloeislegit · 4 years

Text

2020 BeChloe (Mini)Fic Month - Chapter 3

AFTERLIFE

The Afterlife (also referred to as life after death) is the belief that the essential part of an individual's identity or the stream of consciousness continues after the death of the physical body.

Warning: Due to the nature of the prompt, there will be a character's death in this Chapter. Don't hate me.

{This picks up from Week 2's prompt "Quarantine."}

The BAs were having a full rehearsal one week before the State Acapella Championship when they were interrupted by Beca's dad.

"Dad?" Beca said upon seeing him enter the Auditorium. "What are you doing here?"

"Beca, may I speak with you for a moment?"

Beca nodded and turned to the group.

"Great job today, everyone," Beca said. "I'm calling it. Get out of here and have a great weekend."

The girls started gathering their belongings, and Beca walked over to her dad. Chloe stood watching because something seemed off with Mr. Mitchell.

"Dad, are you okay?" Beca asked, seeing her father's red-rimmed eyes. "Did something happen?"

"There's no easy way to say this," Warren said. "Beca, your grandmother passed away in her sleep last night."

"Grandma Mitchell?" Beca choked out. Warren nodded his head and wiped a tear from his cheek.

Chloe jumped when she heard a heart-wrenching sob echo around the Auditorium. Her head jerked toward the sound in time to see Beca collapse into her father's arms. Chloe put a hand to her mouth as she watched Beca sob against her father's chest. If Beca was crying, something bad happened, and Chloe's heart broke for Beca.

"What's going on?" Stacie asked, also watching Beca and her father.

"I don't know," Chloe said with tears in her eyes. "I'm going to go check on Beca."

Chloe slowly made her way over to the father and daughter.

"Mr. Mitchell, is everything okay?" she asked hesitantly.

"My mother passed away in her sleep last night," Warren said with a catch in his voice.

Chloe let out a gasp as tears filled her eyes. "Oh, my God, I'm so sorry."

"Thank you," Warren said as he gently pulled Beca back so he could look at her. "I'm going to take you home, okay?" Beca nodded. "We'll stop by the office and have you excused for next week since we have to fly to New York for the, uh, the fu-funeral."

Hearing the catch in his voice, Beca pulled her father toward her and hugged him tightly.

"Mr. Mitchell, if there's anything my family or I can do, please don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you, Chloe," Warren said. "I appreciate your kind offer. I don't know what we need right now. We're still trying to wrap our heads around it."

"Beca?" Chloe said softly, causing the girl to look at her.

"Anything you need, call me, okay?" Chloe said.

Beca nodded her head and wiped the tears from her face. "Thanks," she mumbled. "Could you tell the girls?"

"Absolutely," Chloe responded immediately. She pulled Beca into a hug and whispered, "I'm really sorry about Grandma Mitchell. I'm going to miss her so much."

Beca nodded into Chloe's shoulder. "Me, too," Beca whispered as fresh tears fell.

~~ Afterlife ~~

Later that night, Beca had managed to get her emotions under control. Picking up her phone, she saw a few texts of condolences from the team, and it warmed her heart. She pulled up her text thread with Chloe and sent her a text asking the redhead to give her a call. It felt like only seconds before her phone was ringing and the caller ID popped up with Chloe's name. Beca answered.

"Hey, thanks for calling," Beca said.

"Are you okay?" Chloe asked softly.

"No," Beca responded honestly. "But, I will be."

"Is there something I can do?" Chloe asked.

"Yeah, that's why I wanted you to call," Beca said. "I won't be flying back to Barden until next Saturday."

"That's the day of the State Acapella Championships," Chloe said.

"I know," Beca said. "Everything has been taken care of to get you guys to Atlanta, and that's where I'll be flying into. Once I land, I'll meet you guys at the Conference Center. I just wanted to let you know."

"I"m glad you're going to be able to make it," Chloe said. "It wouldn't be the same without you."

"Don't worry," Beca said. "I'll be there." There was a brief moment of silence before Beca spoke again.

"Hey, Beale?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't let this go to your head, but I'm glad we're friends again."

Chloe let out a small gasp and tears came to her eyes. "We are?"

"Of course, we are," Beca responded with a light chuckle. "I don't cry in front of just anybody."

Chloe chuckled. "I'm glad we're friends again, too. So, um, I was going to hold rehearsals while you're gone. Is that okay?"

"I think we're more than ready," Beca said, smiling when she heard a somewhat frustrated sigh on the other end of the phone. "But, I trust you, and if you think more rehearsals are needed, go for it."

"Really?" Chloe squealed.

"Yes, really," Beca said. "I have to go. We have an early flight tomorrow. I'll try and call later."

"Okay," Chloe said. "Be safe and call me if you need anything. Oh, and send me the information on the funeral arrangements once you know them. We want to send flowers."

"Yes, ma'am," Beca said, ending the call.

~~ Afterlife ~~

Before turning in for the night, Beca set her alarm and sent a few thank you texts to her team. She laid on her bed, staring up at the ceiling and wiping the tears that started to fall again.

At some point, sleep took her into the world of her dreams, and her Grandmother Mitchell was the headliner.

"Beca," a voice called entering the murky depths of Beca's sleep. "Beca, wake up, sweetie." Beca's eyes fluttered as her brain caught on to the sound of the intrusion. "Beca, I need you to open your eyes." Beca opened her eyes to close them immediately. They opened again and closed just as quickly as she was not ready to wake up. "BECA!" Beca sat straight up in the bed, her heart pounding. She swallowed and looked around. Her eyes widened, and she scrabbled back until her back hit the headboard.

"Who-who are you?" Beca asked the figure standing at the foot of her bed.

"It's me, sweetie," the figure said. "Grandma."

Beca got on her hands and knees and slowly crawled closer to the figure. Suddenly, the figure transformed and was now a human form. A human form that Beca knew well. Tears came to Beca's eyes as she whispered, "Grandma?"

"Yes, sweetie, it's me," Sophie replied.

"But how can it be you? You're de-" Beca stopped and swallowed.

"Dead?" Sophie finished. "I know. I am."

"Then, how are you here?" Beca asked.

"I could feel your sadness and came to comfort you," Sophie said. "It's what we Grandmas do."

Beca let out a watery chuckle because it was something her grandmother always used to say to her.

Beca let out a small sob and looked at her grandmother with tears streaming down her face.

"I don't know how I'm going to feel when I walk into your house, and you're not there."

"Oh, my sweet baby," Sophie cooed. She spread her arms wide and said, "Come here."

Beca closed the distance between them and fell into her grandmother's arms.

Grandma Mitchell held Beca until her sobs turned into hiccoughs, and she calmed down. Beca pulled back and looked at her grandmother.

"How can you be hugging me?" Beca asked. "In the movies, when someone tries to hug a ghost, there's nothing there."

Sophie laughed, and Beca's heart warmed. Beca loved her grandmother's laugh.

"The Afterlife is quite surprising," Sophie said. "My body is no longer alive, but my stream of consciousness, or spirit as some call it, is alive. I can show myself in my true physical form so you can see and touch me."

"Thank you for coming to visit me,' Beca mumbled against her grandmother's shoulder.

"Don't worry, my sweet girl," Sophie said. "I'm always around and will visit you when I feel you need me to be there for you."

"I love you, grandma," Beca said, squeezing Sophie tighter.

"I love you, too," Sophie said.

~~ Afterlife ~~

Beca woke the next morning with a smile on her face, remembering the dream she had where her grandmother had visited her. She got up and took a quick shower before dressing and heading downstairs. Her dad and Sheila were drinking coffee when she walked into the kitchen. Her dad stood by the center island, staring down into his cup. He looked sad, so Beca walked over and hugged him.

"You okay, dad?" Beca asked as her father returned the hug.

"I am," Warren said. "We need to leave in about an hour for the airport. Are you packed?"

"Yeah, I packed last night," Beca said.

Warren opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it when his phone rang. He let Beca go and answered the call.

"Hey, Matt," Warren said, answering the call from his brother.

Beca and Sheila could only hear Warren's side of the call.

"That all sounds good, Matt. Thanks for taking care of everything."

"Could you send that to me, Beca, and Sheila? We have folks here we need to share it with."

"Hm-mm," Warren said. "Hold on, I'll ask her."

Warren turned to Beca. "Matt wants to know if you'll pick out a dress for mom to be, um, buried in."

Beca nodded, and Warren got back on the phone. "She said she would do it."

"Got it. We'll see you at the airport in a few hours. I love you, too, Matt."

Warren ended the call and looked at his wife and daughter.

"Matt finalized the arrangements and is going to send them to all of us."

"That's good," Beca said. "I promised Chloe I'd send them to her."

"I have a few more things to pack," Sheila said as she stood. "I'd better get to it."

Sheila left Beca and Warren in the dining room.

"I had a dream about grandma last night," Beca said, causing Warren to look at her.

"It seemed real," Beca continued. "I hugged her and could smell her perfume."

"Jean Naté," Warren said with a chuckle. "Matt and I used to get her a bottle for every birthday and Mother's Day."

"It is her signature scent," Beca said with a soft smile.

~~ Afterlife ~~

"Uncle Matt!" Beca called out as soon as she saw the man.

Matt hurried over and grabbed his brother, Warren, in a hug. The two men stood unashamed as they held onto each other in the middle of JFK Airport. Matt pulled back from the embrace, sniffling, and wiping his nose.

"You okay, Matt?" Warren asked. "I'm sorry you had to handle everything on your own."

"Don't be," Matt said. "You know how mom is, was. She had everything planned out down to the music and flowers.

Warren chuckled. "That sounds about right."

"Come on, let's get your luggage and get you to the house," Matt said. "Before I forget, we have an appointment with her lawyer on Wednesday for the reading of the will."

"That's good," Warren said.

"How are your kids holding up?" Sheila asked Matt.

"They're doing okay," Matt responded. "I don't think they're really old enough to understand." He turned to Beca. "How are you doing, sprout?"

"I'm good," Beca said. "It won't hit me until we get to grandma's house, and she's not there."

The three older adults became quiet as they nodded, having the same feeling.

~~ Afterlife ~~

The ride to Sophie's house was quiet. Warren, Matt, and Sheila exited the car while Beca remained in her seat.

"Are you planning on sitting out here all day?" Sophie's voice startled Beca.

"Jesus!" Beca blurted out.

"Nope," Sophie said. "Just grandma is fine."

"You're scared the daylights out of me," Beca said, looking to her left to see her grandmother sitting there.

"I'm sorry," Sophie said. "Maybe I can wear a bell around my neck, so you know I'm here."

"Are you planning on popping in on me on the regular?" Beca asked.

"Maybe," Sophie said, causing Beca to grin. "I felt how anxious you were, so I thought I'd walk into the house with you."

"Is anyone else going to see you?" Beca asked. "Or will I look like I'm talking to myself?"

"They'll see me if I want them to," Sophie said. "But they don't need me as much as you do."

"Can you promise me that you'll always be there if I need you?"

"I always was and always will be," Sophie said.

Beca looked down, nodding her head. "I think I'm ready to go in."

"Let's go then," Sophie said.

Beca opened the car door and stepped out. She was surprised to see her father, Sheila, and Matt waiting for her.

"We thought we'd all go in together," Warren said as Beca joined them.

Beca smiled, and when she looked back over her shoulder, her grandmother was no longer there.

~~ Afterlife ~~

"Beca, I don't want to push you, but we need to pick out a dress so we can get it to the funeral home."

"I'll go do that now," Beca said and slowly made her way up the steps.

Beca entered her grandmother's bedroom and went to her closet. She looked through the clothes hung there and pulled out a sky blue dress. Beca smiled because it reminded her of Chloe's eyes.

"Rebecca Cooke Mitchell," Sophie's voice called out from outside the closet. "You are not having me wear that for all eternity. It makes me look like an old lady."

"You are an old lady," Beca said with a smile.

"Don't be cheeky," Sophie said. Beca could tell by her voice she was smiling. "Just because I am an old lady, doesn't mean I have to look like one."

"Okay," Beca said, hanging the dress back on the pole. She pulled out another and stepped out of the closet, holding it up for Sophie to see. "How about this one?"

Sophie smiled when she saw the dress. It was one of her favorites.

"That's the one," Sophie said.

Beca stepped out of the closet and gently laid the dress on the bed. She then chose whatever else she thought was needed and placed everything in a small bag.

"I guess that's it," Beca said, looking around at the same time realizing that she couldn't see Sophie.

It was late when Beca and her family got back from the viewing for her grandmother. She was in her room when her phone's text notification pinged. She looked to see that Chloe had texted her, asking her if she could call.

Beca placed the call the Chloe instead; Chloe immediately answered.

"I wasn't expecting you to call me," Chloe said, answering the call.

"I thought I'd save time," Beca said. "Is everything okay?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing," Chloe said. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Beca said. "It's been a little weird, but my grandma is helping me get through it."

"What?" Chloe asked.

"Okay, so don't be freaked out, but I've seen my grandmother. And can talk to her."

"What do you mean?" Chloe said, sounding confused. "You can feel her around you?"

"No," Beca said and let out a sigh. "That night, after I found out my grandmother had passed away, I had what I thought was a dream. My grandmother was calling my name and woke me up. When I did wake up, she was standing at the foot of my bed."

Chloe listened intently as Beca told of talking to and hugging her grandmother. And how her grandmother helped her pick out the dress she would wear for her funeral.

"I swear I'm not making this up, Chloe," Beca said.

"I believe you, Beca," Chloe said. "The next time she shows herself, tell her I said hi and that I'm going to miss her."

"You're making fun of me," Beca said, pouting.

"No, I'm not. I swear," Chloe said. "I believe that you believe your grandmother has visited you. I just don't believe in ghosts."

"She's not a ghost," Beca said. "I hugged her and didn't go through her like in the movies."

Chloe let out a small scream. "Are you okay, Chloe?" Beca asked.

"I, uh, take back everything I just said," Chloe whispered to Beca.

"Hello, Chloe," Sophie said, causing Chloe's eyes to widen.

"Grandma Mitchell?" Chloe squeaked out.

"Is my grandmother there?" Beca asked through the phone.

"Uh-huh," Chloe said, nodding her head as if Beca could see her.

"Ask why she's visiting you?"

"Wh-why are you visiting me?" Chloe asked Sophie.

"I'm not sure," Sophie said. "I can sense when Beca needs me, and I sensed it just now, only I ended up here with you instead of with Beca."

"I was, um, Beca was telling me about seeing you," Chloe said. "Only I, I didn't believe her."

"Oh," Sophie said. "Do you believe her now?"

"Yes!" Chloe said, nodding her head.

"Good," Sophie said and disappeared.

"Grandma Mitchell?" Chloe called out, reaching for the empty space where Sophie was just standing. Chloe shook her head, unable to comprehend what just happened.

"What's going on, Chloe?" Beca asked.

"She was here, but now she's...gone," Chloe said.

Beca chuckled. "Yeah, she does that. Here one minute, and gone the next. I think she knows when I need to see her and then gets pulled back once the need passes for the moment."

"My heart is racing," Chloe said with her hand on her heart. She let out a small laugh.

"Beca!" Warren's voice called from downstairs.

"Chloe, I have to go," Beca said. "My dad's calling me."

"Okay," Chloe said. "I'll talk to you later."

~~ Afterlife ~~

Beca saw Sophie several times over the next few days. Her grandmother seemed to know when Beca needed her. Either to talk, or just get a Grandma Mitchell hug.

Beca was packing on Friday night when Sophie appeared again.

"Did you come to say goodbye?" Beca asked with a smile.

"I sensed your sadness," Sophie said.

"I'm going to miss you and this place," Beca said, sitting on the edge of her bed.

"Don't worry," Sophie said. "I'll still be around."

"I just wish," Beca started and stopped. She ran a hand through her hair. "I just wish you had seen me perform with my group. We have the State Championships tomorrow, and I wish you could be there."

Sophie pulled Beca into a hug. "I'm sorry I haven't gotten to see you perform, too."

Beca sniffled, and Sophie hugged her tighter. Suddenly, Beca fell back onto the bed as her grandmother disappeared.

"Grandma?" Beca said. She frowned when her grandmother didn't reappear as she had expected she would.

~~ Afterlife ~~

The next morning, Beca's plane landed, and she texted Chloe to let her know. Chloe texted back to tell Beca their rehearsal time had been moved to two o'clock, and the girls were having lunch at the hotel.

Beca read Chloe's text and decided to head to the hotel and join the girls for lunch.

"Beca!" Chloe called out when she saw Beca walk into the hotel's restaurant.

"Hey!" Beca said as the other girls welcomed her.

Amy grabbed Beca in a bear hug, whispering, "I'm sorry about your grandma."

"Thanks, Amy," Beca said.

Beca seemed sad and looked around, hoping to see her grandmother. She got sadder when she didn't appear.

"Beca, are you okay?" Chloe asked, having seen Beca looking around.

"I don't know," Beca said softly. "I haven't seen my grandma since last night. She usually shows when I'm sad, or anxious and I've been both today. I, I think she might be gone forever."

Chloe put her arms around Beca and laid her cheek on the top of Beca's head. "I'm sorry, Beca."

"It's okay," Beca said sadly. "She said she'd always be here when I needed her." Beca let out a small sob, and tears ran down her face. "And I really need her."

Tears came to Chloe's eyes as she continued to hold Beca. After a moment or two, they separated, and Beca wiped her eyes. Chloe was grateful that the other girls didn't say anything about seeing Beca cry.

~~ Afterlife ~~

After lunch, the girls made their way to the Conference Center for their final rehearsal. Chloe stayed close to Beca, in case Beca needed her.

The rehearsal was a bit lackluster—Beca's sadness casting a shadow over the team's enthusiasm.

Chloe spent the rest of the afternoon just sitting with Beca until it was time to return for the competition.

Chloe wanted to do something to cheer Beca up but didn't know what to do.

The Barden BAs were waiting backstage for their turn to take the stage. Beca looked around, the sadness oozing out of her when her eyes suddenly widened, and she grabbed Chloe's arm.

"She's here!" Beca said excitedly.

"Who?" Chloe said, looking around.

"My grandma," Beca said. "She's really here!"

"I don't understand," Chloe said.

"Don't you see her?" Beca asked, her eyes bright with excitement.

Chloe shook her head but couldn't help the smile that came to her face when Beca started bouncing up and down. The rest of the team looked at Beca with furrowed brows. Worried about this sudden change in Beca's demeanor.

"Barden BAs, you're up next," the stage manager told them.

The girls got excited, spurred on by Beca's sudden enthusiasm.

"Let's do this," Beca exclaimed as the emcee announced them.

Beca literally bounced out onto the stage, followed by her team. They got into position, and Beca counted down.

By the time the Barden BAs finished their set, the entire place was on their feet, clapping and cheering. Beca grabbed Chloe and spun her around.

"What has gotten into you?" Chloe asked, laughing.

"I was sad earlier because my grandma was gone," Beca said, trying to catch her breath. "But she's here. Chloe," Beca said and took a breath. "This is the first time my grandmother got to see me perform."

Chloe looked around and smiled when she saw Sophie give her a small wave from the side of the stage. Chloe waved back, and Sophie disappeared.

Chloe wiped a tear from Beca's face and softly said, "I'm so happy for you."

#weekly-bechloe #bechloe #weeklybechloe #bechloe week

56 notes · View notes

omoi-no-hoka · 5 years

Text

Rural Life and Mental Health in Japan as a Gaijin

Heads up: This is a very long, personal post about mental health and the stresses of living in rural Japan as a foreigner. If it’s not what you’re looking for in this blog, please feel free not to read it. If you can’t tell by the gif above, this isn’t going to be a very positive post because I’m not in a very positive mood.

------------------------------

It’s been just shy of five and a half years since I moved to Hokkaido, the northernmost island/prefecture in Japan. In many ways, it’s similar to the American Midwest, which is the region I’m originally from. It’s big on agriculture, it’s got lots of nature and rural areas, winters are long and nasty, and the people have a warmth that make up for the cold snow and ice outside. Heck, even a lot of the flora and fauna are the same.

I think of my current city as my “Japanese hometown” because it was where I stayed during my first trip to Japan and it’s where my hostparents from that time are. I love it here like I love my country bumpkin village of 2,800 back in the states.

But after a little over two years of living and working in this city, I think I need out. I am...tired of it in many ways.

特別扱い Tokubetsu Atsukai, “Special Treatment”

Prior to living in this city, I lived in Sapporo, which has a population of 2 million. There, no one batted an eye at a foreigner walking the streets. A lot of them were surprised that i could use Japanese, but a good few people were used to gaijin that could use nihongo and read kanji.

But in my current city, I have experienced all of the following things, some of which on a daily basis.

DISCLAIMER: I have also had a LOT of very positive experiences with the people of this city. Most of my experiences have been positive or neutral, but a good 40% have been as described below.

Everywhere I go, I am openly stared at. Gawked at, at times. (I am your standard-looking, standard-dressed, slightly overweight white girl. No visible tattoos, piercings, vibrant hair color, or otherwise attention-grabbing aspects about me other than the fact that i am clearly not Japanese.)

I am often spoken to like I am mentally disabled, or if I am with a Japanese person, they will refuse to speak to me and instead speak to my Japanese companion.

I have entered restaurants on my own and had waitstaff make a big “X” with their arms and say “No English” immediately upon seeing my non-Japanese face.

I have had waiting taxi drivers drive off instead of allow a troublesome foreigner into their car.

I have sat down alone at a bar and had the Japanese people beside me openly gossip about me with the assumption that I could not understand them.

When searching for apartments when I moved to this city, I was denied 75% of my picks because they have a “no gaijin” rule. Despite the fact that I can speak and read, that I have a good job and valid visa, and that I have already lived here 3 years without a single late rent payment or complaint against me.

I have built up casual relationships with employees at grocery stores, etc. I frequent, and they have asked me for my contact info because, in their own words, “I’ve always wanted a gaijin for a friend!” In Japan, every girl wants a token gaijin friend instead of a token gay friend.

I have gone on dates with Japanese men who clearly just wanted a white girl to hang on their arm like a piece of swag and insist on taking me to a pasta place because “You must prefer western food to Japanese food” or insisting that I dye my hair blonder to look more foreign.

I am just...so very tired of this 特別扱い (special treatment).

I don’t want to call it 差別 (prejudice) because, the majority of the time, Japanese people think they are doing me a kindness by speaking slowly and simply, or by telling me as soon as possible that they cannot help me in English, etc. While a couple of the above experiences are straight up racism (I’m looking at you, asshole taxi drivers and landlords), most of them are a misguided form of “omotenashi,” a.k.a. Japanese hospitality.

So I try very hard not to let it get to me, because I know that they don’t wish ill upon me. But I’ve worked so goddamn hard to learn this language and speak it well, and it is so frustrating for the people around me to assume that I can’t do what has been my freaking life goal. Or having people assume I can’t understand slightly difficult words and dumb down their language (Even colleagues I’ve worked with for two years now!). In the middle of a conversation they’ll say things like, “It’s hard to deal with that level of animosity--oh wait, omoi-no-hoka-san, sorry, ‘animosity’ means ‘dislike.’”

They mean it in a helpful way, but it just comes across as very condescending and I end up thinking, Oh, so they think my Japanese proficiency is so low i can’t understand that word. Which sends me into doubt over whether my language skills are actually that deficient, or whether I am speaking in a way that makes myself look at bad at Japanese.

The Effects of 特別扱い (Special Treatment)

It’s been gradual, but over the past two years, I have found myself withdrawing from the outside world. I got bad at replying to friend’s messages. I started making excuses to avoid meeting up and hanging out. I would buy all the groceries i needed to last me through the weekend on Friday after work and not emerge until Monday morning to go back to work. Even though I really love the outdoors and used to spend entire days just riding my bike along the river trails here.

...But in the past few months I’ve become unable to answer even close friends’ phone calls and messages. And I’ve even had a hard time phoning my parents, which is crazy because ever since I left home for uni I’ve called my mom on a daily basis. When I think about stepping outside of my apartment, no matter the reason or destination, I am gripped by a dread so strong I nearly throw up. I have gone a couple weekends without food because it would require me leaving my apartment to buy some, or paying for very expensive delivery which also means interacting with whoever is bringing me that food.

I’ve had a stressful summer and fall at work, and that undoubtedly has contributed to my current anxiety overload. But things have settled down at work for the past month now, and not only have I been given an award that only 2% of employees get globally, recently I have been in talks to take on what is very nearly a dream position for me within the company that is a BIG step up career-wise. I have great bosses who recognize my efforts, who listen to what I have to say, and do what they can to help when I tell them I’m in over my head.

But I have had several days where I have woken up, gotten ready for work, and just frozen at my apartment door, too sick at the thought of going outside. And yet, I can’t stand the thought of calling in sick because I feel chronic, self-imposed guilt when I take a day off, no matter the reason. So I call in to work and tell them I have a stomachache and will be in once it’s gone, (which isn’t an absolute lie), and then drag myself into work within a couple hours.

And once I enter the office, do the obligatory bow and apology for being late and causing inconveniences, the dread and anxiety vanish and I am fine until it is time for me to go outside to return home.

This makes me think that work is not a main stressor right now. It doesn’t matter if I’m going to the convenience store or the grocery store or work or anywhere. I think the constant being stared at everywhere I go has gradually accumulated to become a nasty form of social anxiety. I used to have panic attacks in middle school and high school due to home life, but since removing myself from that environment they’ve gone away. I’ve always been a socially-reserved person who shies away from the spotlight, and despite telling myself a thousand times, “Let them look at you--you’re just being you and they’re being them and that’s OKAY,” I just can’t brush it off. I have very, very seriously considered dyeing my hair from its natural brown to black in an effort to blend in, if only slightly. Which is laughable, but that’s just how much it bothers me to stand out.

But the event that really sounded the alarm for me was when my best friend of 10 years, a Japanese girl whom I met by chance my freshman year of uni, who was my roommate for 4 years of uni, who let me sleep on her living room floor here in Japan for 3 months until my work visa came through, who has been with me through thick and thin, sent me a message asking when she could drop off a souvenir for me and

I couldn’t bring myself to reply to her text.

That was when I very clearly knew that I was too deep in this funk to get myself out on my own, and I had to figure out how to get help.

Frankly, despite having struggled with panic attacks and anxiety in the past, I have never sought professional help. Until now, I never felt that my symptoms were so bad that they warranted medication. But the fact that i can’t contact my mother or my best friend, that I would rather not eat anything for two days instead of go outside, means that snorting essential oils and rubbing rose quartz against my temples or whatever isn’t going to be enough.

Mental Health Views in Japan

It’s not exactly a secret that the approach to mental health in Japan is “sweep it under the rug.” You do not talk about it. You may go to a doctor and receive medication, but you do not get counseling, because that involves talking about it. You do not tell your friends. You do not tell your family. You DEFINITELY do not tell your coworkers.

I saw my boss, T, fall into a very similar spiral to my own this summer. Stomach aches in the morning, coming in late, making excuses to get out of outings outside of work, not replying to messages, not sleeping well. And then one day he just vanished. Didn’t show up one Monday.

T wouldn’t respond to our messages so we had to contact his mother to get a hold of him. And once she had confirmed that she had spoken to him and scolded him for being “selfish” by skipping work, my coworkers were satisfied because, in their words, “Now that we know he’s still alive, we don’t have to worry.”

Honestly, that was one of the most fucked up reactions to any situation I have ever seen. I was shocked, because these coworkers truly cared for him, but their mutual reaction to this was to just...let him languish.

T announced to a select number of supervisors/colleagues that he had been diagnosed with general anxiety disorder and would be stepping down from his position. He said that he had been diagnosed years ago, but had not disclosed it because he knew that he would never be promoted if anyone knew.

And that’s one of the big reasons that no one wants to talk about their mental illness here. In Japan, having a mental illness is a shameful thing. It shows that you’re weak, that you can’t keep up with everyone else, that you are flawed in a way that will adversely affect those around you at one point or another.

But my company really is a great company and the people in charge are progressive. T has a lot of great skills and experience, and they didn’t want to let him go. So they told him that they would find someone to fill his current role, but once he had rested and gotten better, they wanted him to come back and do a position that he used to do, one that he really shined in and enjoyed. And that is where he’s at now, and he’s doing much better for it.

So, having seen all of this unfold mere months ago, I grappled with how much I should tell my employers. The talk of this new and big position in Tokyo was underway, yet I knew that I wouldn’t be able to handle it unless I got better.

So I bit the bullet, and on the night that I couldn’t respond to my best friend’s text, I sent my boss a message, explaining my symptoms, how long they’d been going on, what I thought the causes were, and that I wanted to take the morning off to see a doctor about it sometime that week.

And I was really shocked by his reply.

This boss is the guy that filled T’s position, and i didn’t know him that well yet. As it turns out, he used to be a counselor before he joined this company. He told me that I could go to the doctor whenever I wanted, but that he also wanted to talk in person about this the next day.

The next day he called me into the conference room with one other manager, a guy I really trust and like. When T vanished, shit really hit the fan at the office and it was basically this manager and me keeping us afloat for the first couple weeks, so we’ve got a lot of camaraderie going. They asked me to talk more about what was going on, why I was feeling all this anxiety, etc.

And it was during this conversation that I saw the division between the traditional Japanese views of mental health and modern views of mental health.

When I explained to them both why I wanted to see a doctor and try medication, their reactions were mixed. My boss, the former counselor, said that if I thought it was best, trying out medication for a few weeks was a good idea.

The manager looked doubtful and said, “But do you really think that going to a doctor and getting pills from him will fix everything? If you’re diagnosed, what will your colleagues think? I thought you wanted that promotion.”

In that moment i felt intense fear and regret, as well as hurt. T had said that he had withheld his diagnosis for this very reason. A part of me had wanted to think it was paranoia on his part, but now I realized that he had been right to keep it a secret. This manager, whom I knew very well and trusted deeply, clearly was of the opinion that a diagnosis/medication = evidence of weakness.

So I ended up lying and telling them, “I’ll go to the doctor just to get some sleeping pills.” (I’ve been waking up every hour on the hour for a couple months now.) Sleeping pills aren’t frowned upon in Japan and the manager was pleased with this decision.

And after that manager left, I told my boss the truth, that i would be getting anti-anxiety meds as well because I really thought it was necessary, and that I would appreciate him not disclosing it unless he was required to, which he agreed to.

Seeing a Psychiatrist in Japan

So now i had to find a psychiatrist and make an appointment. A Google search provided me horrors. Below is an excerpt of a Google review of a certain mental health clinic in my city, and the record of the exchange between the doctor and reviewer (patient). I’m not going to translate it all because it’s long, but these are some highlights of the doctor’s words directly to the patient.

“You can’t sleep? I can’t sleep either. What, do you want some pills for it?”

“You can’t expect me to believe what a patient says.”

(After he made the patient cry) “You are being so difficult. Could you stop crying?”

He gives her medication, has silent nurses send her out to the waiting room where she continues to cry, and the doctor comes to the waiting room and says, “Could you hurry up and pay and leave?”

Having read this, I was filled with absolute fear. Maybe I was better off trying to fix this on my own after all.

But I kept searching, and I also learned that my city hall has a 心の相談窓口 (Kokoro no Soudan Madoguchi), “Mind Consultation.” You can call them to learn information about what sorts of mental health facilities/options are available in your area. A very kind lady there informed me that it takes about 2-3 months to get in to any psychiatrist in this city, most of them do not take new patients, and that counseling is almost non-existent. Unless I was a harm to myself or others, I would have to wait. However, there was one general hospital in the city that had one psychiatrist staffed. This hospital has no reservation system whatsoever (very common in Japan) and takes a set number of patients in the morning and evening. I could try my luck to get in and see her.

So that was what i did, and I was able to see her on the first morning I went! I think the Kokoro no Soudan Madoguchi lady made it sound harder to get into so I wouldn’t feel let down if it didn’t work out the first time I went.

Having read the horror story above, I had a lot of trepidation stepping into the exam room with her and two nurse secretaries. I had expected it to be a very clinical, dry exchange of symptoms and a sufficient prescription with a token お大事に。

And, more than anything, I had feared that she would say something like, “Maybe you should just go home to your own country where you wouldn’t stand out.”

But she asked me a wide range of questions, with none of them focusing on the fact that I was a gaijin: what my symptoms were, how long they’d been going on, what I had going on in my life, what work was like, past history of anxiety, etc., and she and the nurses all truly listened to what i had to say. It was clear that she cared about the underlying causes and me as a person.

She told me that it sounded like I was experiencing a buildup of stress and anxiety and that she wanted me to try a low dose of anti-anxiety meds and sleeping pills for a week and then come back for another discussion.

That was 3 weeks ago. I’ve since been in the process of working with her to find the right combination of medication. Fun fact: they prescribe you Rohypnol (roofies) for sleeping meds in Japan if they deem your insomnia is serious enough. So. That is interesting.

Where I Am Now

I am keeping my boss informed of my condition and he is still very supportive. He seems to have informed his bosses of my tribulations to some extent, because they have gone out of their way to check in on me and see how I’m doing, which is very kind of them. Of course, they also know that i went above and beyond the call of duty for several months in a row until recently, and they could simply be asking because of that. Either way, I am touched that they would think of me, as I am a lowly translator for a lesser project and they are quite a ways up on the corporate ladder.

I am still in talks about taking on a very exciting position in Tokyo HQ, despite one of those bosses likely being aware of my situation to some extent. I used to dread the thought of Tokyo because I am a country girl who needs to see green, but recently I’ve come to the tough decision that I need to leave my beloved Japanese hometown, just like i left my American one. I love them, but I do not belong in them. I have visited the Tokyo HQ quite a few times, and there are a ton of foreigners in the area so I don’t stand out at all. I think that as long as I can live reasonably close enough to a park, I can satisfy my needs for nature while lessening my social anxiety.

I am having good days and bad days where it is still hard for me to leave the house. But I am having more good days than bad now. And today I was finally able to send a text message back to my best friend. Which really doesn’t seem like a lot, but it is a lot to me. My friend is supportive and understanding, which means the world to me.

I’m getting back to being me. 💗

p.s.: The gif at the top of this is from the anime Mushishi, which I think illustrates various mental illnesses and their effects in a very metaphoric way.

#personal #mental health #stress #anxiety #social anxiety #expatlife #japan #life in japan #rural japan #mental health awareness #expat in japan #mental health recovery #mental health support in japan #love yourself #you can overcome this

191 notes · View notes

mhdiaries · 4 years

Photo

13 Wishes Lagoona Blue Diary

9/6

The surf was so epic this morning that I almost stayed in a bit too long and I just barely made it to my first class in time. Usually Gil is there talking to Deuce and waiting for me, but today he wasn’t. I started to text him, but Mr. D’eath was subbing for Mr. Rotter this morning and Mr. D’eath will confiscate your iCoffin if he sees it, and then you have to write a 2,000-word essay on manners before you get it back. I had just decided to wait until after class to text Gil when I felt something lightly tapping me on the elbow. It was Deuce’s pencil; only he was staring straight ahead behind his shades with an absolutely blank look on his face like he had no idea his pencil was actually touching me at all. I started to say something when I saw there was a note wrapped around the end of the pencil. Deuce put the pencil on the edge of his desk, and I picked it up like it was mine. I know it sounds all creepy clandestine, but if you get caught passing notes in class Mr. D’eath makes you write a 2,500 word essay on...not passing notes in class. I waited until Mr. D’eath turned to write something on the board and I slipped the note off the pencil. It read, “Our Spot @ lunch - G.” “Our Spot” is a little cemetery park not far from MH where we go to have lunch sometimes or just to sit and talk without worrying about other monsters overhearing us. I had a hard time concentrating in my classes before lunch especially since he wasn’t returning my texts in between classes. When I finally got to the cemetery, Gil was pacing back and forth waiting on me. I tried to give him a hug but he had that “we need to talk” look, so I sort of backed off. He said he was sorry about sending a note instead of a text but he dropped his iCoffin and cracked the screen so it was being repaired. He had also been at the doctor’s office all morning because his mom thought he wasn’t eating like “a growing monster boy should.” Gil said there wasn’t anything wrong except that Heath was taking Home Ick, which meant he was using the bros as test subjects. Sometimes that meant he was too full or too queasy to eat much dinner. I said I didn’t think that was the reason he wanted to meet at “our spot.” He said I was right - his parents were starting to put pressure on him again to break up with me. His dad was even thinking about taking a job outside the country and taking his family with him. I don’t want Gil to leave and I told him so. I also told him that I would rather be able to see him every day and not date than to not be able to see him at all. It’s just so frustrating because it seems like his parents will be okay with us dating and then all of a sudden they’re not anymore. Sometimes I think they do it on purpose...no, that’s not fair. They’re just scared, but it’s still...hard. I reckon we talked through most of lunch about what we should do, and Gil had to get back early cause he had a test but I stayed a little longer mostly because I didn’t want Gil to see me cry. I tried to be as optimistic as I could while he was with me but as soon as he was gone I lost it. I just wish there was some way to make his parents like me...then everything would be perfect.

9/12 or 9/13

Now that I’m a freshwater monster I’ve been going through my wardrobe, and it’s clear I’m going to have to make some real changes. Like who needs this many pairs of board shorts and tank tops, especially in all these bright colors and patterns? It’s almost as if I wanted monsters to notice me. So embarrassing. I don’t have anything in brown or mottled green at all! I’m supposed to have dinner with Gillington’s parents, but now I have absolutely nothing to wear. I’ll have to go shopping, but what will I wear to the maul that’s not totally embarrassing?

September or October something...

I went to dinner at Gillington’s house tonight, and it was so pleasant that I can’t wait to go back! Gil’s parents are simply amazing. His father is the strong silent type, and it’s clear where Gillington gets his good looks. Gillington said his father doesn’t say very much because he always has lots on his mind because of his business. I didn’t ask his father any questions because I didn’t want to add any of my silliness to everything else he must be thinking. Gillington’s mother and I hit it off right away though! She invited me into the kitchen and even let me help her prepare dinner. I mean she did all the work but she let me watch. “When it comes to meal time, Gillington and his father expect perfection - it’s not a job I can just entrust to any monster.” She was right, of course. What do I know about cooking? Good thing Gillington’s mom has offered to teach me everything she knows. She says that Gillington’s a very fussy eater, funny that I don’t remember that from when I was a saltwater monster. I used to remember Gil...I mean Gillington...having contests with Deuce, Clawd and Heath to see who could eat the grossest creepateria concoctions. I’m sure she’s right though, after all she is Gillington’s mother. When dinner was over we all sat quietly until it was time for me to go. When Gillington walked me out he told me that his parents loved me and couldn’t wait to have me back. He said his dad was especially impressed. Wow! I didn’t even think he knew I was in the room. What an amazing night! It was completely beyond my wildest wishes.

October...is it still?

For the unlife of me I just can’t figure out what’s gotten into Gillington. Today when I was in the pool doing my water aerobics he kept challenging me to a race. As if. Why he has to be so competitive all the time is just beyond me. It’s not like I could even come close to beating him in a race unless he let me win. He just kept insisting till I finally thought maybe he was getting the fluke. I felt his gills and they were totally cold and clammy just like they should be. I don’t know, but they way he reacted when I finally put my fins down and said, “No, I will not race you Gillington Webber!” was almost like he thought I was a different monster or something.

November-maybe

I just got into a complete disagreement with my mother tonight on video chat. Well, actually, it started with my dad earlier in the day when I told him that I was quitting the surfing team. The way he reacted, you would have thought I said I was moving to a termite mound in the Outback or something. I really can’t believe I ever spent so much of my time on that silly sport in the first place. Salt water is just so bad for my complexion, and surfing is simply dangerous. Dad just completely overreacted, especially when I told him that I was getting rid of all my surfboards. Gillington’s parents say saltwater angries up the blood, and I guess they must be right. Anyway, he finally said something about “getting to the bottom of this” and swam off. Later on mother tried to talk me out of it, be the more we talked the crosser she became with me. At one point I thought she was going to start crying, but our video link shut down, so I’m not sure. I thought mum and dad would be happy for me, but it seems like just about the time Gillington’s parents started to like me, mine go all saltwater wonky on me. Unlife should be easy and not hard.

Is it October again?

I sent Gillington a text and told him about my parent’s, strange behavior last night, but imagine my surprise when he took their side! He told that I shouldn’t give up something that I loved so much that if I was getting rid of my surfboards that he would take them and keep them safe until I got back to normal. But I am normal, a normal freshwater ghoul who just wants to not make waves or go against the flow. I don’t even remember what it’s like to be a saltwater monster anymore. It seems like a dream...just a dream.

#monster high #monster high diary #13 wishes #lagoona blue

48 notes · View notes

amyscascadingtabs · 5 years

Text

when i’m feeling alone, you remind me of home

Three different years, three different Christmasses, and three different reasons Jake's awake all too early in the morning on December 25th.

(or, did anyone say CHRISTMAS FLUFF???)

read on ao3

december 25th, 2014.

06.08 a.m.

“Oh my god, have you been here all night?”

Jake's not sure whether Amy’s about to laugh at him or tell him off about how he needs to take better care of himself. From the incredulous look on her face, like she can’t believe her eyes when he nods at her from behind his desk, it could be either.

“Jake, that’s insane. Have you ever heard of, I don't know, sleeping during the night?”

(It's the second alternative.)

He has heard of sleep, and he’ll confess the thought of his bed with its good mattress lump and too-soft pillows is more tempting now than when he first considered going home about eight hours ago, but he also just drank a can of artificially blue energy drink and might never sleep again. All the better - it’ll give him more time to catch his arch-nemesis, who sent him yet another rant about omelets yesterday that left Jake none the wiser and all the more frustrated.

“I’m trying to get a trail on Doug Judy,” he shrugs in response to Amy. “You think a person can disappear into thin air?”

“I’ll go with no on that one.”

Jake groans. “I swear that’s what he’s done. It’s infuriating.”

“I’m sorry he got away,” Amy tilts her head to the side with sympathy, “but I promise you’ll catch him. Just go home and get some sleep.”

“You go home and get some sleep.”

“I have! I’m just stopping by to get a couple of hours of work done before I have to go back to my brother’s place.”

“Why are you going to your brother’s place -” He makes note of the red and green stripes on her knitted sweater and her red bauble earrings. “Oh, right. Christmas.”

Never one for family-centered holidays or one with a particular skill for keeping track of time, Jake could have sworn the occasion wasn’t happening for another few days at least, but Amy nods. Her earrings sway with the movement.

“So you’re working on Christmas?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re working on Christmas,” she retorts simply.

“Yeah, but I don’t celebrate it. You like being with your family.” Jake snaps his computer shut and leans over his desk instead, hands clasped together and chin resting on them. “What’s the mysterious deal here? Has there been a juicy scandal in the Santiago family? Please spill.”

Amy sighs, her cheeks turning a shade of pink he recognizes from the last time Captain Holt complimented her work on a case in front of the bullpen. “There’s nothing juicy. I just needed some time away from my brothers if I’m going to survive today.”

“I thought you liked your brothers?”

“I have seven brothers, Jake, and I like all of them. Except for David. Perfect David,” she says, screwing up her face like it pains her to say the name. “David is planning to take the Sergeant’s exam this year. David is looking at buying a house. David’s proposing to his girlfriend. Aren’t you thinking of getting married to your boyfriend, Amy? Oh, that’s right - you two broke up! Such a shame. You two made an adorable couple!”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah.” She bites her lip. “Sure. Ouch.”

She starts writing on her computer, fingers tapping over the keyboard with speed and only stopping for brief moments when she looks out the window like she’s taking a break to think. Jake decides to give her a moment alone and dives back into his own poorly structured document of barely existent and equally far-fetched leads. He doubts he’s writing anything coherent at this point, but the thought of Doug Judy out there taunts him too much to allow himself to stop.

He feels guilty whenever Amy mentions her breakup with Teddy. It’s been three weeks since the most catastrophic double-date in history, and most of the time, they’re cool, but then there are moments where he’ll mention Sophia and notice how Amy’s eyes will turn away and her expression will morph into a smile so different from her natural one. He can’t decipher what it means, or if it’s nothing and his mind’s playing tricks on him from when he had a little bit of a crush on her. It’s not like it would matter, he reminds himself. He’s with someone, he’s happy, and Amy’s over him anyway.

It doesn't stop him from wishing he could read her thoughts sometimes.

“Are you having dinner with your mom tonight?” Amy asks, jolting him back to reality. The tapping of her fingers against the keyboard has slowed down, and the tension that radiated from her before seems milder. Jake thinks he can note the hint of a smile on her lips.

“How do you know I’m having dinner with my mom?”

“You told me last year?”

His memory flashes back to a late-night, dead-end stakeout last December. “Right. Right, yeah, I am - Sophia’s away visiting family, so.”

Either Amy's smile turns more wistful, forced, or he’s imagining it. “That sounds nice. Are you planning to get any sleep before then?”

“Sleep is for the weak,” he tries joking, but because his body is cruel, moving his face triggers a massive yawn that makes Amy giggle.

“Actually, sleep deprivation is linked to a weaker immune system, higher risk of cardiovascular diseases and trouble with concentration,” she lists, ignoring his eye-roll. “Seriously, Jake. Go home and rest, then come back with a clear head tomorrow.”

“Nah,” he shrugs. “Just need more coffee.”

“I pity your doctor.” Amy shakes her head. “But hey, it’s Christmas - if you promise me you’ll go home and sleep after, coffee’s my treat.”

“Really?”

“Consider it my Christmas gift for you. “ She’s out of her seat and taking on her coat before he’s even had a shot to ask why he’s willingly going outside in the cold when there’s perfectly acceptable, free coffee in the break room. Then again, he’s not one to say no to a surprise. Especially not when the words on his computer are getting blurrier by the second, and he’s lost nearly all faith in his own skills as a Detective thanks to the failed capture of Doug Judy three days ago. Caffeine will help him stay awake; maybe long enough to come up with at least one more idea. Something - anything - and he’ll let himself go home. As soon as he’s made progress, he’ll rest.

“Gingerbread lattes. Sickly sweet, so suits you perfectly.” He gives Amy a quizzical look as she puts down the red and white Starbucks cup in front of him. She blushes. “I mean, because you eat what I believe is a dangerous amount of sugar. Nothing else.”

Jake grins. “That difficult to hide your crush on me, huh?”

“I don’t have a crush on you. If you’d like to give me a Christmas gift, I’d very much appreciate you quitting bringing that up.”

“Uh-uh, it’s a no-can-do.” He unscrews the lid from his cup, licking up the sweet foam. “This is great, though. Thanks, Amy.”

“You’re welcome. Merry Christmas,” she says, and he thinks he sees a glint of that shy, covert smile again. “For what it’s worth, I really think you’ll catch him. I believe in you. Just get some sleep first.”

“Merry Christmas.” He lifts his cup like he’s making a toast. “I believe you can survive Christmas lunch with your family. Maybe even without strangling anyone.”

Amy snorts. “Now that would be a Christmas miracle.”

“So would Doug Judy surfacing again be at this point.”

She holds up her own takeaway cup, touching it to his. “Cheers to Christmas miracles, then.”

“Cheers,” he laughs.

In the corner of his eye, he sees his phone light up with a Merry Christmas-text from Sophia. He can’t fully explain the guilt that follows when he waits a few minutes to reply, or why he’s struck with a sudden desire to tell Amy another joke first so he can make her laugh again, but it's probably just sleep-deprivation.

december 25th, 2017.

05.33 a.m.

Jake wakes up not knowing how to breathe.

It’s not happening as often anymore - not nearly as frequently as it did during his first weeks home - but often enough for it to no longer surprise him. The dreams before he wakes up are almost indistinguishable from each other, always another version of Romero’s gang having him backed into a corner with their shivs pointed at him. Melanie Hawkins is watching the whole thing go down from the other side of the cell, her laugh nefarious and causing his blood to freeze to ice. In every dream, he screams for help, but no one ever comes to save him.

It’s fine, he tries to tell himself, forcing in air through his mouth. His chest hurts, his heartbeat’s far over the healthy bpm and a sense of instinctive dread is pooling in his stomach, but he’s fine. He’s home.

He listens for the sound of cars driving past outside her window, a trick he’s learned after too many of these nights, and reaches out his right hand to touch his nightstand. A second wave of fear floods him when he realizes he can't hear a single car, and when he reaches out his hand, all he feels is a wall that doesn't belong to his bedroom.

He sits up so quickly it makes him dizzy. He doesn't remember where he is, and can't distinguish the room in its encapsulating darkness, but if he's back in prison or Romero or Hawkins have somehow manifested in his real life, he's all too aware he doesn’t have anything to fight with except his bare, trembling, hands.

This is where you die, a voice in his head wheezes, and his lungs feel tighter. This is where it ends.

The sound of another person’s breathing sharpens his focus. It could be someone from Romero’s gang standing behind him, breathing down his neck, but the only thing he feels is droplets of sweat trickling down his back. It could be Hawkins, standing somewhere in the room watching him, but this breathing seems too slow and peaceful. Nervously, he looks to the side, and even in the darkness of this room, he recognizes the silhouette of his fiancée sleeping next to him in bed.

The puzzle pieces seem to fall into place, mitigating the waves of panic as they go. He’s not at home, because he’s with the Santiagos, celebrating Christmas upstate with his in-laws-to-be and their many kids and grandkids. He and Amy drove here yesterday, celebrated Nochebuena with all her family, and they’re staying for Christmas dinner today.

Everything’s fine, he tells himself instead, and finds that he’s able to force his breath into the pattern Amy taught him after one of his first attacks. In, out. You’re not in prison. Inhale. You’re okay. Exhale. Repeat until it works.

As his eyes become more and more used to the darkness, he’s able to make out the contours of Amy’s face. She’s on her side facing him, her hair draped across the pillow and her hands holding onto her part of the blanket. It doesn’t seem like he’s managed to wake her up. She’s fast asleep, and Jake pats himself on the shoulder for having learned to ride out the panic attacks on his own. It’s bad enough that he can’t sleep; he’s wrecked with guilt when it affects her, too.

He presses a kiss to her forehead. The corners of her mouth twitch into a small smile, and the aching in his chest is replaced by a comfortable warmth.

He’s careful not to try and disturb her when he gets out of the bed they’re sharing, finding a hoodie and a pair of pajama pants he’s thrown on a nearby chair, and sneaks outside.

The snow shocks him. He’s used to a gray, rainy Brooklyn during December, a polar opposite to the Winter Wonderland surrounding their rented cabin. It's still a couple of hours away from daylight, but the porch lighting and bright snow are enough to make him feel safe. He scrapes clean a spot on the edge of the porch and sits down.

The air is cold in his lungs, but it’s the refreshing kind of cold, the kind that feels healthy and makes you realize how polluted the air you breathe on a daily basis is. It’s far from the signature prison smell of mildew and fear, far from the stuffy atmosphere in the courtroom during their trials, far from any of the memories that haunt him during nightmares and nocturnal panic attacks.

He’s safe. He’s free. He’s okay.

He grabs a handful of snow, squeezing it and feeling it shape after his palm. If someone had asked him during a night he laid awake in his cell, whether he thought he’d ever see snow again as a free man, Jake’s not sure what his reply would’ve been. There were a lot of things he wasn’t sure he’d ever get to experience, but here he is, living them. He forms the snow to an imperfect snowball, then throws it against a tree. It gives him an odd, childish sense of having achieved something, so he does it again.

“Having a snowball fight with yourself, are you?”

He turns around to see Amy standing in the door opening. She’s in pajamas, bathrobe, and her winter coat, but despite her Michelin-man-like appearance, she still looks like she’s shivering when she sits down next to him, handing him one of two steaming mugs of coffee.

“I just needed to get some fresh air. Sorry, I tried not to wake you.”

“You didn’t. I only noticed when the bed got cold. You’re an excellent source of heat.”

“Where would you be without me?”

“I’d be colder,” she states simply. “And sadder. Worse in every possible way. But you know that. Let’s not talk about it.”

“Yeah. Let’s not.” He takes a sip from his mug. The coffee burns the roof of his mouth, but he can tell his cup has been doused with the perfect amount of sugar, so he keeps drinking. “What time is it?”

“Nearly six. I bet all the kids will wake up soon, and the quiet in this house will turn into chaos as everyone’s opening their gifts and trying to capture reactions and thanking each other,” she laughs. “Get ready for the annual Santiago Christmas chaos.”

“I’m excited,” he says with full honesty. If he had to think of a good opposite for prison, a crowded living room of families with children opening gifts on Christmas morning is a strong contender, and it’s made even stronger by the fact that he’ll have Amy by his side for it. “Merry Christmas, babe.”

“Merry Christmas.” Her face is cold, but her lips are warm from the coffee when she kisses him. “Now do you think we can go back in and snuggle under our comforter until we actually have to get up?”

Jake doesn’t know if he’ll ever be free of the nightmares, but he knows that for as long as he’s laying forehead to forehead with Amy Santiago, pretending to complain when she rubs her ice-cold feet against his, tickling her as revenge just so he can make her laugh, they seem further and further away from reality.

december 25th, 2020.

05.17 a.m.

Although she's only been born for a mere five weeks, Jake’s already certain his daughter is a flat-out genius. For example, even though it's her first time celebrating, she's got one of the staples of Christmas celebrations down to a T; she's waking up far earlier than should be allowed.

“She's way too excited about her presents to sleep,” he suggests with a yawn as the infant’s crying wakes them up for a third time that night. “Truly my daughter.”

“More like she's hungry and wanting attention,” Amy mumbles as she reaches for the nursing pillow, trying to find a comfortable position for both her and baby. “Still your daughter, then.”

“Guilty as charged,” he says, and in the low shine of the table lamp on her nightstand, he can see her rolling her eyes at him. Leah’s grunting in complaint as Amy takes a few seconds to unhook the strap of her nursing bra, bordering dangerously close to a cry when she can't seem to figure it out, but then it works. The sound of Leah's content suckling fills the room, bringing with it a novel feeling of peace they've come to know in the last weeks.

When she's crying, their hearts are shattering. When she's happy, they're floating on air. And because their daughter is barely a month old, they're on a constant rollercoaster between the two absolutes.

“You can go back to sleep if you want,” Amy offers, not for the first time that night. “I’ve got this under -” She yawns. “Control.”

“I know.” He could, and considering the low total amount of sleep he's gotten this week, he probably should, but he has another idea. “This is nice, though.” Leah’s pajamas has reindeer heads on the feet, and he holds them in his hand. “I can’t believe it’s her first Christmas.”

“I think you’re more excited than she is,” Amy laughs. “We’ll see what she thinks about it after the two-hour car-ride to my brother’s place.” “She’ll sleep through it. You’ll worry.”

She grimaces, stroking her fingers over the tiny hand Leah is holding on her chest. “Touché.”

“Merry Christmas, babe.”

“Merry Christmas.” Amy stifles yet another yawn. “You don’t mind getting up with her while I close my eyes for just a little bit longer, do you? Or else I might actually fall asleep in the middle of Christmas dinner.”

“No, of course not.” Jake doesn’t tell her he was hoping she’d ask. He can’t risk ruining the surprise he came up with at work two days ago. For someone so sleep-deprived he almost took Charles’ lunchbox from the precinct fridge two days ago and was about to start chewing before Terry stopped him, he feels it’s some of his finest idea-work.

Leah finishes eating and Amy burps her, handing her over to Jake like she’s the most precious of goods - which, to be fair, is accurate. Their daughter finds her favorite spot with her head on his shoulder near immediately and he gets out of bed almost as fast, only stopping to give his wife a kiss on the cheek before leaving their bedroom.

Even a year ago, he would have laughed in the face of whoever had told him he’d ever willingly wake up at 5.30. He would have called them insane if they’d suggested it would become the routine it has, or that he would like it. Every morning when he gets up for work, he’ll wake up extra early and take Leah for a couple of hours, giving Amy some undisturbed sleep and himself some quality time with his daughter. She is, without exception, in her happiest mood in the mornings. Sometimes she’ll give him what sort of resembles a smile if he makes a funny enough face, or she’ll wave her hands when he sings to her. Jake can’t imagine a better way to start his day - if he has to spend a whole workday away from her, at least he gets these moments first.

He’s not going to work today, but he still has plans for their morning together. It’s the first-ever Christmas they’re celebrating as parents, which he figures calls for a more luxurious breakfast than their usual coffee and toast, and Amy may have suggested no big gifts this year, but she didn’t say anything about ones addressed from their daughter - loophole. She insisted they’d get a tree, though, so now there’s an over-the-top decorated fake tree in the corner of their living room with a whole of three Baby’s First Christmas-ornaments. Two of them were gifted by Charles. As was five other gifts, and he only stopped because Amy made him.

“This is the Christmas tree,” Jake tells his daughter as he shows it to her for the one-hundredth time, only for the way her eyes light up when she gets close enough to see the lights and baubles. “It’s not real, because your mom’s allergic to those, but it looks pretty nice, right?” Leah coos. “Yeah, I know. We’re being extra this Christmas. It’s all for you, you know.”

“But it’s what you deserve,” he adds, kissing the top of her head and breathing in the baby scent he just can't get enough of. “Even though you’ll never remember this. I guess it’s mostly for us. But you’re a great excuse.”

She whimpers like she understands and is offended by what he’s saying, and he laughs at the timing.

“Don’t worry. It’s been fun. You’re going to have amazing Christmasses. I’m kind of jealous, actually.”

He sits down with her in the armchair placed in front of the three, putting his feet on the footstool so Leah can lay against his knees. “I never liked celebrating holidays much, because my dad was either drunk or just wouldn’t show up, so me and my mom were alone for most of them, which sucked.” Jake pouts his lip, and Leah moves her head in a way he decides to interpret as nodding. “You’re never going to have that. You’ll have gifts and people everywhere, a billion cousins to play with and food for days because your grandmother is an amazing cook. You’ll love it. I sort of feel like I’m getting revenge for all of my failed holidays by making sure yours are perfect.” He rubs his nose against hers in an eskimo kiss. She makes a noise that is not quite a laugh but leaning towards it, like she’s trying to figure the motions out. “I guess you could say we’re discovering the traditions together, huh?”

The beauty of being an adult is you can make a new family with new traditions, a memory of Holt’s words from a Thanksgiving seven years ago comes to mind. Jake’s always considered the squad his family, and he’s made traditions with Amy in their years together, but he’s never been this excited about them before. He’s already humming to himself when he plays the Taylor Swift Christmas album on his phone, putting Leah in the baby bouncer and pushing it so it moves by itself. He googles the recipe and narrates his actions to her as he goes, mixing eggs with sugar and melting butter and stopping every now and then to bounce her seat again. He takes an involuntary break to change his daughter’s outfit, finding an even more festive one he couldn’t stop himself from purchasing when he walked past it in the store last week. It’s a baby Santa suit, complete with hat and all, and he takes about twenty-or-so pictures of her in it before remembering what he was doing before.

It takes twice as long as the recipe suggests, but eventually, Jake’s looking at two plates of saffron french toast that’s only a little burnt, matching Super-Mom and Super-Dad mugs - also gifted to them by Charles - filled with an attempt at a gingerbread latte that he’s sure will taste decent with enough whipped cream, and the Christmas gift addressed from Leah is imperfectly wrapped sitting next to Amy’s plate. It might well be one of the proudest moments of his life, and he gives himself a mental pat on the back for being such a natural talent at the whole festive traditions-thing.

He contemplates singing as they enter the bedroom. The idea falls flat, because he doesn’t know any Christmas songs well enough to avoid completely butchering them, and the act of balancing a baby, a gift and a coffee cup without dropping either is enough of a challenge, but he does manage some humming as they go to wake up Amy.

He wonders if she’s heard them, because she sits up in bed way too fast for someone who just woke up, but she’s smiling at them with a glee that seems to erase all traces of exhaustion when he sits down on the side of the bed, handing her the coffee.

“You dressed her as Santa,” she laughs, tickling Leah’s belly with her free hand. “Oh my god, she looks so cute.”

“Bought the outfit myself,” he grins. “Merry First Christmas as a mother, babe.”

“I’m loving it. I thought we said no gifts, though?”

“It’s not from me, it’s from Leah. Loophole!” Jake half expects his wife to roll her eyes at him, but she simply grins wider.

“She might have one for you, too.”

“Oh, Lee. You shouldn’t have!” He shakes his head at his daughter, getting a confused look in return. “You’re too nice to us.”

“Well, she does keep us up all night.”

“True, true. She’s lucky she’s the cutest.” He kisses his daughter’s cheeks not for the first time that day. “She might have fixed another little surprise for you out in the kitchen. Well, her and I. Mostly me. But she was very supportive!”

This time Amy does roll her eyes at him, but affectionately, before putting down the coffee on her nightstand and reaching over to kiss him.

“Merry First Christmas as a dad, Jake.”

He still considers himself a beginner in the area of Christmas traditions, but as he and Amy take turns eating their French toast and unwrapping their Leah-themed gifts while the other one bounces a suddenly fussy baby in their arms and Taylor Swift’s Christmas album keeps playing on a loop in the background, he’s certain he’ll be able to learn.

He’ll do anything for the two people who are already his greatest gift of all.

#my writing #b99 #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn nine-nine #peraltiago #jake x amy #b99 fic #brooklyn 99 fic #brooklyn nine-nine fic #b99 fanfiction #brooklyn nine-nine fanfiction #jake x amy fic #jake x amy fanfiction #peraltiago fic #peraltiago fanfiction

101 notes · View notes

catsandstrawberries · 5 years

Text

Real Family: Final Chapter

Pairings: BTS x teen female reader, platonic love

Warnings: Gun violence, triggering actions and words, domestic violence, language, fluff and angst

A/N: This is the last chapter of the series. I really appreciate everyone who commented on past chapters and gave me words of encouragement.

Summary: It’s not blood that makes a family, it’s love.

Masterlist

The next morning, going to school was surprisingly different, but in a good way. I was able to laugh with Amber, she even drove us to school. I also had time to think about how I should approach Zara and reconnect with her without both of us getting angry.

Once inside the school, I rushed towards Zara's locker where she would usually be found before the first period. "Zara!" I shouted when I was in arms reach, standing in front of her so she couldn't run away.

"What do you want now." She sighed in aggravation,

"I love you." I rushed out, ignoring her shocked expression.

"Wha-"

"I love you. I adore you. My life without you has been miserable. You have become my best friend Zara, and I haven't had a lot of those. My life feels like its been going to shit, and I miss you, Zara." She looked as if she wanted to protest at my words, "and I'm sorry. But, both you and Amber are my friends now. She’s changed." Just as I said that Amber appeared from behind me,

"Zara, can we talk." Zara glared at the girl but nevertheless nodded, the two of them walked towards the other side of the hallway. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but I saw the two of them in the conversation, talking and then finally hugging. A smile spread onto my face at the interaction, watching the two walk back over towards me. Zara launched herself into my arm as soon as she got back and I gladly returned the hug.

"I'm sorry, I might have overreacted." Zara laughed then turned to Amber, "and I'm happy we're friends again." The bell rang signaling first class, and sadly we parted ways. The two of them heading towards their honors abstract algebra class while I left for my pre-calc class.

It felt strange for everything to be working out, at least with the school. Now I needed to tackle the problem with the boys. It wasn't like I could ignore the constant texts, voicemails, and calls forever. Whether I liked it or not they were still my legal guardians. A small part of me, well-big part of me hoped that things had changed. That despite their original intentions of using me for their own benefit, I had become something more to them.

"(Y/N)." My eyes lifted from my desk towards the teacher, "could you run to the office and grab me some papers from the printer?" I nodded at the teacher and left the room, walking down the hallways towards the office. The hallways dead quiet until a crackling noise split through the air, similar to a thunderstrike before the storm. Confused, I looked around the hallways before another strike erupted causing my entire body to stiffen. My skin prickled, and at that moment I forgot to breathe. Screams erupted from down the hallway, and rapid footsteps pounded into the polished floor. The overhead speaker flickered on, static filling the hallways by a frightened woman's voice,

"We are now in Lockdown mode, an active shooter is inside the school." The speaker flickered off and I instantly reacted, running into an empty classroom and pushing the door shut. Why was there a shooter in the school? Before I could catch up with my own thought process the speaker was sending static into the room once again. Except for this time instead of the woman's voice, it was a breathy, hesitant male.

"If I don't meet (Y/N) (L/N) in the office in five minutes then I'm going to shoot every student in this building until I find her." A chill ran down my spine at his voice, the very voice that gave me nightmares, and haunted my childhood. I hadn't heard my last name in so long, the only person who ever used that name with me was my mom, and,

"dad?"

What the fuck was I doing?

From what I could tell I was searching for a man, my father, abusive if I might add, who had a gun. Not only that, but he was threatening to kill people. Why now? I hadn't seen this man in years, and now he was threatening to kill people if he didn't see me.

I slowed down once I reached the main office, the sound of the AC, fan in the ceiling, and hushed whispers were all I could hear. I whipped my head around at a clocking of a gun, a black handheld being pointed straight at my head. A middle-aged man, balding and yellow tooth smirked at me, his breath reeking of alcohol.

"Hey sweetie, you've grown up so much."

Jimin had been the closest to the school when it happened. He had been out grabbing a coffee at a nearby cafe when a woman rushed into the store, hair a mess and breathing frantically as if she had been running. Jimin hadn’t been paying all that much attention to her until he heard what she had to say.

"Someone, help! There's a shooter at the high school!" Jimin was rushing out the door as soon as the words left her mouth, his mind racing as his coffee cup was disregarded. The hot liquid falling to the floor, spilling on the tile, but he paid no attention. All Jimin could think about was what he would do if he lost her. He hadn't seen her in two days, and after Namjoon explained what happened when she came to visit them at bighit, he knew she didn't want to see them. He wouldn't know what he would do if she got shot. If her last memory of him, and the other six boys was that none of them even wanted her in the first place. Jimin, after seeing the flashing lights on ambulances and cop cars decided it would be best not to take his chance on the streets. He didn't know what he would do, how he would do it. But he knew he was going to save her. No matter what it took.

Namjoon had been the first one to get the call. At the time he was in a meeting with the other boys and Bang, while Jimin went on a coffee run. Not so much because they needed coffee, but Jimin had stated that he needed to clear his head before the meeting.

"Where the hell is Jimin," Yoongi scoffed looking at his watch just as Namjoons phone started to buzz. Usually, he wouldn't bring his phone into these types of meetings, but he hadn't heard from (Y/N) in almost 48 hours. He was worried about her. They all were.

"Is that her?" Hoseok asked as Namjoon picked up the phone. Instead of the girl's voice, however, he was met with a police officer. All five boys watched as Namjoons face paled, his eyebrows scrunching together in confusion, as he pulled the phone away from his ear.

"Namjoon," Taehyung asked, standing up from his seat. The words seemed to knock him out of his shock as he motioned to all the boys,

"let's go." Bang stood from his chair,

"Wait! Namjoon you can't just leave." Namjoon turned to his manager just as he was about to step out of the room.

"There's a shooter at the school. The same school (Y/N)’s at right now. We’re leaving." Without another word Namjoon was gone, a series of shouts came from the other boys, but nevertheless, they all followed Namjoon out of the building. Once the boys had gotten to the school Taehyung was jumping out of the car before Namjoon could even park. Countless parents and a few students who were able to escape stood outside while police ushered to the crowd to stay calm. Tae rushed towards the police line only to be stopped by an officer.

"Sir, you can't go any further, there's an active shooter inside." Taehyung tried to swallow his comment, he really did. But she was inside, and he could feel his mind start to cloud over with anger at the mere thought of her getting hurt. He didn't know how to handle it, so he projected it onto the best person to blame.

"You know who else is inside? My kid. Why are you outside instead of in there?" The officer glared at the man as Taehyung motioned towards the school.

"Sir, that's not my job. I'm in charge of establishing a perimeter while the first response team can only go inside at the moment." Yoongi appeared at Tae's side once noticing the fight.

"Where is the first response team?" Yoongi asked fist clenched in anger.

"They aren't here yet. They're on their way." The two members both started shouting separate profanities at the police officer. Both mad, angry, and frustrated with the prospect of the situation. Jin at the moment was doing his best not to cry, desperately gripping onto Namjoons hand as he watched students rush out of the school. Hands over their head to show that they weren't a threat. Every time a student left the doors he prayed one of them would be her, but they never were, and with each passing student he could only think of the worst-case scenario. If only he had stopped her at BigHit. Little did he know Namjoon was thinking the same thing. Blaming himself for not telling her the truth, blaming BigHit for manipulating a child for the boy bands popularity. Hoseok was furiously texting and calling Jimin, sometimes shouting into the phone to get his ass over to the school. Why the hell wasn't he picking up his phone? Jungkook quietly stood by himself. Not knowing how to process the events unfolding in front of him. He was so worried about you and overwhelmed by this scenario. Yet there was nothing he could do but wait for you. He knew you'd come out okay, you had to.

"D-Dad?" The words felt so foreign on my tongue, and calling the man in front of me such a term made me want to gag. Especially when he had a pistol pointed at my forehead. "Wha-what? Why are you here, why now?" He smiled at me as if this was a normal situation for him.

"Really honey? Nice to see you too.” He remarked, the gun shaking slightly with his body as he chuckled. “As for your other question, I thought you would have figured it out by now." I looked at him in confusion and he shrugged, the gun tilting with a shake of his shoulders. "I sent you clues and everything doll." My eyes widened at his statement and I took a hesitant step back,

"the messages? Those were from you?" The edge of his lips rose in a smirk, his cracked teeth parting as he talked in a sing-song voice.

"There's more." More? What more could there be? Why would he even come here, risk everything and get brought to jail, and the boys were rich they could win any court case and put him behind bars for life. As if a lightbulb went off in my head I looked up at the man, hurt evident in my eyes.

"You're here for the money. You started messaging me after I got adopted, you want ransom?" He smiled,

"ding, ding ding. That's my girl. Always knew you were smart." I backed away slightly despite the gun pointed at my body.

"Don't call me that. You gave up any right to even associate yourself with me when you left me to fend for myself."

"Stop moving, and don't be so childish." He hissed out, "let's go, we're leaving." I scoffed at him as he pushed me by the shoulder, turning me around so the gun was directly hitting my shoulder blade. "We? The whole school is probably surrounded by police, what are you going to do." He pushed harder with the gun and I whimpered at the added pressure but clearly noticed his lack of a plan. "You wouldn't shoot me. You need me alive if you want money." He harshly spun me around, his nails digging into my shoulder blade while he glared at me with dark eyes. Before I could react, his flaky hand was wrapped against my throat, cutting off my air-flow. Despite the fight, I pulled my pushing and clawing at his skin doing little to slow him down. To stop my fighting he roughly slammed my back against the closest wall, the shock reverberating through my chest and all of the wind being knocked out of my lungs. "You've got this all wrong, dear daughter of mine. I have nothing left to lose." A dark tint glinted in his eyes as he spoke, one of pure manic and madness. "If this goes south, I'm killing the both of us. Your mother would be so proud." He pushed the gun toward my face. "Open your mouth." I rapidly shook my head, water droplets forming in my eyes as I realized the severity of the situation. "Open!" He screamed, shaking my body and squeezing my neck harder making it difficult to breathe. As if on instinct I opened my mouth and he pushed the barrel past my teeth and deep into my throat. I sobbed at his actions, choking against the metal of the weapon. "Don't do anything stupid, I won't be asking nicely." He seethed, dropping my body as I collapsed to the floor, coughing and gasping for air, rubbing at the bruise starting to form on my neck. "Get up," He grabbed me by my ponytail, pulling me up from the floor and dragging me with him. Regret instantly washed over me like a tidal wave, I shouldn't have run from the boys. It was stupid and childish I should have talked to them, but then again they could have told me the truth from the beginning. The idea of him killing me started to sink in, I might actually die here. I'm so sorry Namjoon, I'm sorry Jin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Taehyung, Jimin, Jungkook.

A plan started forming in my head, and I knew what I was doing was stupid, but if I was going to die, he was going to die too. A loud sob interrupted me from my thoughts as the grip on my hair loosened. "Did you hear that? Is it one of your friends?" He turned down a corner and placed his ear next to a closed-door were the sobs were coming from. "Let's pay them a visit." In an instant, he threw his body at the door, shot the door handle, kicked the wood until finally, it collapsed. He ran into the room in a wild frenzy and started blindly shooting. I gaped at the scene in horror, my fight or flight instincts taking in as I grabbed the closest thing next to me and threw it at him. Thankfully my aim wasn't as bad as I thought because the stapler hit him square in the forehead. Shocking him so much that he fell to the floor and dropped the gun.

"Go!" I shouted, towards the students, most of whom were unharmed except for one boy who was clutching at his bleeding shoulder. I rushed forward towards the groaning man laying on his back, grabbing his gun and running out of the room. Adrenaline pumped through my veins as I saw the exit, but something in the back of my brain was screaming at me. Zara and Amber! Without a second thought, I ran towards the math wing running into the classroom for abstract algebra only to find it empty. Thank God. I rushed out of the room into the hallway, my shoes squeaking down the polished floor, breathing unsteady as I looked left and right for any search of him. Palms clammy around the black weapon in my grasp. A separate crash made me jump, and I rapidly searched the hallways, gun pointing in all directions. As the hallways went quiet, I dropped the gun, holding it at my side as I rushed around the corner. Before I knew what was happening an arm had wrapped around my throat, a pathetic scream filling my ears, and I realized it was my own. The gun flew from my hands as I clawed at the muscle restricting my airways.

"You're a little cunt you know that?" He harshly threw me to the floor, my head smacking the floor with a harsh, thud! "I don't know whether to be proud of your aim or to kill you for attacking your father." I gathered up my courage, pushing myself up on my knees hissing out,

"you aren't my father." His body stiffened as he grabbed the gun,

"I'm going to fucking kill you." He pulled me up by the scruff of my black sweater and on instinct, I sunk my teeth as hard as I could into his hand. His grip loosening enough so I could push his hand away. If there was anything I learned from living with a monster like him, it was that he hated spit. I gargled as much fleam, and saliva into my mouth as possible then spit right onto his face as he shouted in disgust. I grabbed the gun out of his grip as he screamed and as if on instinct I blindly shot. The pressure of the gun sending me falling onto my butt. My ears ringing, and head pounding as all of my senses started to blur. I looked up at the man to see him gripping onto his shoulder in pain, "you shot me?" he spoke almost as if it was a question, crimson blood leaking through his hands and shirt. Oh my God, I just shot someone. "You bitch," more tears started to form in my eyes and I couldn't move. Despite watching him lunge at me, all I could focus on was the blood gushing from the wound that I caused. I shot someone. He lunged at me, bloodstained hands reaching out to grab at me, just before he could someone rushed at the man. A blurry mess of two people entangled in a struggle until the stranger gave him a swift blow to the cheek, his body flopping to the floor. More people started to rush by me, blurs of blue and black, more men with guns. It wasn't until warm hands were wrapping around mine, gently taking the gun away from me that I noticed I was shaking. Tremors causing my hands to barely even stay still.

"(Y/N)," I looked up and make eye contact with hazelnut orbs, pink lips parted as if he was about to cry.

"Jimin?" A choked sob escaped my throat and before I knew it I'm launching myself into his arms. Desperately clutching onto his shirt as tears track onto his skin. I was being picked up off the ground practically effortlessly by Jimin, my legs wrapping around his waist at the movement.

"I got you," he muttered and I peeked up at him from his shoulder, watching as his pupils started to water, heavy lights fading into his eyes. A sudden pain hits my head as if a hammer was being slammed against a glass ball. Immediately I start whimpering, digging my face into the crook of his neck.

"Jimin, everything hurts. My head." Another set of choked sobs escapes my mouth however that only causes a feeling of burning liquid acid in my throat. Before I know it, I’m outside, still being carried by Jimin. "Jimin put me down please," I mumble and he reluctantly does so, staying close by my side as I travel down the steps, six boys rushing at me despite the angered shouts of the police. Yoongi gets to me first, his arms wrapping around my torso, the familiar scent of mint and cinnamon engulfing my senses as I wrap my arms around his neck. My body racking with sobs as several other pairs of arms join us before I finally go slack in their arms. Rapid mumbles, shouts, and cries are going through my ears. ‘We’re never leaving you alone again,’ and ‘i’m so sorry.’ The latter was said a lot. My body relaxes against the boys, just as they start to pull away I stumble and lean against Tae.

"I hit my head," I mumble barely above a whisper and just as I spoke the words he scoops me up bridal style, yet I'm too tired to care about how embarrassing it is. I'm sat at the edge of an open ambulance, a woman examining me. Rubbing at my forehead, asking what hurts, and repairing some minor cuts and bruises. She stops at my neck however, her hands becoming softer as she grazes the skin.

“She most likely has a concussion, and her esophagus is damaged so she might have trouble talking. I can't do much, but you should bring her to the hospital to get her head checked.” The boys let out a chorus of thank yous, but I wasn't paying any attention to her. Rather the bloodshot men in front of me, eyes beet red and swollen from crying, hanging on to every word the woman said. The woman wraps a blanket around me then leaves as she’s called towards another student. I catch my reflection from the back of a parked car. I'm a mess. Dried blood streaks painted randomly across my face as if someone had given up on trying to wipe them away. My neck looks swollen, and there's a constant pain in the back of my throat.

Gentle, calloused hands are wrapped around my face, rubbing circles at my cheeks as Namjoon places a kiss on my forehead. I'm too tired to move away from the gesture and instead relish in it.

"I'm so sorry," Namjoon says once again, rubbing gentle circles on my cheeks. Blurry eyed I look up to Namjoon then the boys, a sudden burst of energy clouding my ability to reason.

"Th-” I'm shocked at the sound of my voice. Broken, cracked, and unwanted pain makes me wince.

“Hey, it’s okay. Don't talk if it hurts.” Hoseok is at my side, gently rubbing my back while I clear my throat and speak barely above a whisper.

“That was my birth father. He shot up the school. He wanted to use me, to get money from you." Suga sits on the opposite side of Hobi, a gritted look upon his face.

"He's never going to get anywhere fucking near you when we're done with him” The venom behind his tone was noticeable but what surprised me was when Jungkook spoke up.

“That bastard will be rotting behind bars for the rest of his shit life.” I nodded and slipped the blanket off,

"please, can we just go home. Together."

Apparently, there are these things called laws that frown upon citizens shooting a gun. So instead of going home, I was sent to the police station, a young police officer interviewed me, his nervous voice sounding almost as anxious as my own. Namjoon was instantly calling his best lawyer, and it felt nice to have another person helping me out with the questions, and advising me what to say. Huh, I guess rich privilege is nice sometimes. The officer after questioning me labeled the scenario as one of unavoidable danger but did warn me that I would be called into court for shooting a firearm whether or not it was out of self-defense. Either to stand up for my actions, or testify against my fathers.

After what felt like hours, I was finally back to the comfort of the soft, plush couch. I was sandwiched between Jimin and Hoseok, the five other boys surrounding us. I huddled myself into a ball, a fluffy grey blanket wrapping me up into a makeshift baby burrito.

"I'm sorry." I finally spoke up, getting a strange look from Jimin who was sitting next to me.

"For what? Almost dying?" Jimin aggressively asked while I downcasted my eyes.

"For running away. For not telling you about the messages. I should have seen this coming, he gave me so many warning signs-." Hobi gently grabbed my arm, turning me to face him.

"What messages?" I bit my lip, turmoil, and regret spreading through my stomach and up my throat.

"I kept getting anonymous messages, saying things like, see you soon, and I'm coming for you." Namjoon instantly was perking up from his seat across the room.

"What? Why didn't you tell us?"

"I don't know. It's just that I've always felt like such a bother my whole life, and you have so much on your plate. I didn’t want to bother you. It's hard to adjust from being nothing to having someone care about you so suddenly. " I paused, questioning my word choice. "Or at least, I think you guys care." Jungkook gently grabbed my hand turning me to face him,

"(Y/N), last week you asked us why we adopted you. It’s because we love you. We want you here." The dripping tears start to form before I can even stop them, yes from his words, but he was also looking me straight in the eyes as he spoke. I had no doubt in my mind he was telling the truth.

"Adopting you was the best thing that ever happened to me, to us," Yoongi spoke up while the other boys nodded in confirmation.

"(Y/N), when we found out about the shooter. We were all horrified. I don't know what we would have done if you got killed." Taehyung vocalized,

How did I get so lucky to have this group? Despite the ups and downs, I trusted them, Jimin practically saved my life today. Taehyung treated me like a daughter, Jungkook not only picked me up from a party at a ridiculous time but let my friends puke in his car. Yoongi formed a real relationship with me, Jin always treated me with kindness and gave me an extra sugar rush, and Hoseok never failed to lighten up my day. Namjoon since the beginning had always tried to help me fit in, to help me feel welcome.

"I never knew what a real family was like. Until I met you." A chorus of awe’s erupted from the group and before I knew it I was being squished between the seven boys in a group hug. Warm arms enveloping me in a loving embrace. At that moment I fully understood what it meant to have a family, to be loved.

"Alright who forgot to put on deodorant this morning?" Hoseok shouted, accusingly sniffing at Jin who smacked him on the back of the head.

I wouldn't trade these seven idiots for the world.

Taglist: @xxqueenwxtchxx @ayyeaestheticgirl18 @im-emo-motherfuckers@kamirichibi @officiallyza @treetops68 @there-could-be-stairs @acklesgold @bisoo-ausucre @bts-edits-bitch @celestial-m00n @springdayblink @joyful-jimin @vannilacake @youcantbesiriusremus @i-like-puppy-mg@namjoonsslutakakoreanmanswhore @officiallyza@odditiesanddeities

191 notes · View notes