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venusiansilk · 6 months

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⋆˙⟢ CONSTANT.

satoru spends decades loving you so much it makes you miserable.

f!reader ⊹ no curses au ⊹ angst. semi-fluff. smut. childhood enemies/friends to lovers to exes ⊹ 18+ brief smut. infidelity. satoru is a jerk who ruins everything ⊹ 4.8k.

꒰ 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈 ! ꒱

certain things remain constant, never really changing at the core of their essence. they may shift, adopt new forms, or adapt to different circumstances, but their fundamental nature typically remains constant. and this is precisely how you would describe your connection with satoru.

seven.

you hate when your mom goes out of town. your dad never knows how to pack you a proper lunch. it’s never anything made with his own hands, and always a series of snacks stuffed into a cardboard box, called a lunch. being in second grade is hard.

from the never-ending class activities to the unappetizing lunch options, everything seems to be a constant struggle. but what makes it even harder is gojo satoru, who never fails to get on your last nerves. it seems like you can’t escape him, not even at home. monday through sunday. you never get a break from him. if he’s not pestering you in class, then he’s knocking at your front door to bother you at home.

and your mom always lets him in to play. you can’t ever understand why. you keep telling her playing with him isn’t any fun. he only likes video games and making a collection of random noises. he’s not exactly your idea of fun. on top of it all, he comes around just to be mean to you. he comes around just to make fun of your interests. today is no different. as you sit at the lunch table with your meager cardboard box, here he is, plopping himself across from you with his lunchbox. inwardly, you sigh. being in second grade is so hard. you can’t even just get up and leave. you can’t drive. you don’t have your bicycle with you. not to mention, you don’t know your way home at all yet. satoru smiles pleasantly at you. “hey, pea.” “…hi,” you reply suspiciously, wondering when the ‘brain’ would fall. he’s never blatantly nice to you. satoru makes a show of unpacking his lunch, which was obviously made with love by his mother. mrs. gojo is the sweetest. you aren’t sure how she ended up with such a demon for a son. the scent wafts from his food and makes your mouth water, bringing back now-somber memories of the days when your lunch was fresh and not boxed. you can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy as he comments on your snacks.

there’s nothing wrong with them for other children who prefer them, but they’re not for me.

“did your dad make your lunch again?” he asks, looking at the snacks you have spread out before you with his nose crinkled in disgust. “i think your dad doesn’t love you, pea brain. he doesn’t even want you to eat well.” groaning, your tiny fist hits the table. “can you shut up and go away?” “i’m just saying. he didn’t even pack you a juice box. all you have that’s good is pudding.” he notes. “ah, i’d hate to go home to parents who don’t love me. sorry, pea brain.” you pout, your lower lip jutting out pathetically. he’s right. at this point, all you can make of your dad’s lack of loving lunches is a lack of love. you look at him, tears gathering while his eyes widen, and lash out in pure frustration, face feeling hot. “you’re such a jerk. i hate you.” dramatically, you lay your head down on the table and sob because he’s right. your parents can’t possibly love you when they make you eat like this. “don’t cry, y/n.” he says sadly. “i was just joking.” “leave me alone.” your voice is muffled by your face being pressed and buried in your arms against the table. you hear a heavy sigh and then silence. you can feel the air get less annoying. he must have taken the hint and left you. so, you lift your head, sniffling and wiping at your eyes. right before you was a juice box and a little dish of pork belly he left behind just for you. and for some reason, the person you hate the most offering you this out of kindness makes you cry even harder. you hate him so much.

ten.

you’ve never been in trouble before today. and of course, it’s today of all days, your own birthday. your school record thus far is squeaky clean. fifth grade is supposed to be easy, a prevalent marker of your growing maturity. here you are trying to convince your parents that it’s time for you to earn an allowance, but now? all your efforts are in vain. the unfortunate incident shatters the strength of your argument, leaving it in pieces. sitting uncomfortably in a plush chair within the cramped confines of the school director’s office, you can’t help but realize the gravity of the situation. you, who have always walked the straight and narrow path, are now branded as a criminal. and what is the cause of this sudden fall from grace? none other than gojo-freaking-satoru, the very embodiment of your misery, the source of your endless frustration. god, he ruins everything. he constantly pesters you with not a single concern for your comfort or peace. no one does anything about the way he pokes and prods at you despite your repeated complaints. when you tell an authority figure, you keep receiving these smiles from all of them as if there’s some inherent fondness you’re somehow missing.

“he bothers you because he likes you.” the instructors always say. “he just wants your attention. he just wants to play with you.”

it doesn’t seem or feel like satoru cares about you at all. in fact, satoru’s behavior appears to be motivated solely by his desire to get a rise out of you. and yes, of course, you try to ignore him, but the strength of his obnoxiousness surpasses any and all capacity you contain for enduring his extended presence. it’s precisely this breaking point that leads you to the school director’s office today.

you yearn for him to leave you alone. you need him to leave you alone, but he won’t, and no one will make him because while you find his behavior to be frustrating and tiresome, the others seem to all find his lack of ability to respect a single one of your boundaries endearing.

as if.

driven to the brink of your sanity, you finally snap. you can no longer endure his constant intrusion on your personal time and invasion of your personal space; so you punched him in the nose and called him an awful bastard. now he sits across from you in the office with a smirk on his face and a napkin stuffed up his nostrils to stem the bleeding. the glint of amusement in his eyes causes you to snarl and glare at him, fueling your anger even more. “god, you’re the most annoying person i’ve ever met.” you spit, words dripping with disdain. his smirk becomes a thin, straight line. “shut up, pea brain.” “am i the pea brain?” you ask with a twinge of confusion in your voice as you fire back. “didn’t you get a measly 54% on our last english test? i got 92 so i don’t think it’s my brain that’s below average in size, mongrel.” satoru snorts. “yeah of course you did. all you do is study because you don’t have any friends. i wouldn’t brag about that.” your eyes narrow, your teeth grit and your fingers clench. “you look pathetic right now, getting beat up by a girl.” “hah!” he bursts sardonically. “i’d respond, but you don’t even look like a girl. you look more like a deformed troll. i’m so sorry, y/n. i just know that’s why suguru geto won’t give you the time of day. you’re just plain ugly.” that stops you. the words hang in the air, causing your chest to tighten, your breaths coming in rapid succession. just yesterday, you had mustered the courage to confess to geto that you thought he was cute. he rejected you sweetly but he still went off and told all of his friends about it like a jerk, and one of his friends just so happens to be the gargoyle sitting across from you with a smug expression etched across his face. but it’s not funny to you anymore. he’s just mean. he’s a bastard. a heartless jerk. he’s the worst person alive. your gaze drifts away, tears welling up, threatening to spill over. “you’re such a stupid jerk,” you manage to choke out, your voice laced with anger and hurt. “i’d rather be a jerk than an ugly troll no one wants.” his words hit you like a sharp blow, a sucker punch to the gut.

that’s it! i’ve had it. i’ve had it. i’ve had it!

approximately five minutes pass before a teacher finally hears satoru screaming for his life in pain only to find that you had dragged him to the floor, climbed on top of him, and are now relentlessly punching him in a wrathful frenzy. “you’re such a jerk!” you scream, your voice hoarse with fury and enraged fists landing wherever an opening was seen. “i hate you! i hate you i hate you i hate you!” satoru seethes underneath you, unable to remove himself from you, trying his best to shield his nose from being hit for going on the fourth time today. “i hate you more! stupid freak!”

some birthday.

seventeen.

you hate the smell of cigarettes.

the pungency fills the air, making your nose scrunch up in disgust. you hate the way nicotine clings onto everything — fingertips, fabrics, and breaths. but most of all, you hate the way it always lingers on him, makes a home out of his skin. it’s as if the scent was a permanent part of him, clinging harder than you do. god, even at seventeen, you still can’t stand gojo satoru. he’s recklessness embodied and he’s an absolute gargoyle of a boy; yet, you find yourself inexplicably drawn to everything about him, much to your own dismay. your stomach churns as you plop down near him on his bed, your legs finding their way onto his lap. “it stinks,” you spit, wrinkling your nose at the offensive odor. “you stink.” he looks at you with an uncaring expression, a question in his eyes. “then leave, pea brain,” he taunts. “nobody invited you. you just tagged along.” you can feel his hands resting over your legs, keeping you there despite his words. rolling your eyes, you know he’s playing a game, acting like he won’t cup your face in his hands and press his lips against yours as soon as his friends leave. "if i leave now, i won’t be back. i have practice,” you warn him, your voice carrying a tone of caution. “ball’s in your court.” as his head turns to look at you, you can’t help but notice the plea in those pretty, cerulean doe eyes, begging you to stay just a little longer.

“hold on, pea. don’t leave. i haven’t gotten to kiss you yet.”

it makes you sick. sick. sick. sick. you let out a small hum, your eyes flickering up to meet his. “that’s what i thought. talk to me nicely.” “never in your wildest dreams, pea brain.” he grumbles. “being awful to you is my brand, baby.” his use of the term “pea brain” still irritates you, but you can’t help the way your heart flutters when he occasionally calls you “baby” despite its lack of sincerity. you hate how you always give in to his crooked smile and his supple lips that seems to always beg for your attention. just as you’re settling into a comfortable silence, his friend’s excited voice breaks through. “gojo, shit. gojo! you’ll never fucking guess who’s at the skate park right now.” his brows furrow together. “uh, who?” “shoko ieiri. you know. absolute smoke show? the girl you’ve been trying to get at for like 6 months? geto said she’s there asking about you, man!” your heart sinks as you hear him mention the name of a girl that satoru has been trying to pursue for months. you hate the way your chest tightens and aches, knowing that he’s ashamed to be open about his feelings for you. you hate that he sees other girls but still wants to kiss you, and you hate that you let him. you don’t even bother looking at him as he glances at you nervously, pretending like you didn’t hear. as they continue to talk about it, the hurt only grows. you watch as satoru blatantly decides to go with his friends to talk to her, and you can’t believe he has the audacity to ask if you want to come along. you sneer at him, removing your legs from his lap and standing up. “fuck off, satoru.” you snap, your tone laced with anger and hurt. "so i take it we’re done here?” he doesn’t even bother looking at you as he nods. “you’re such a fucking jerk.” you spit. “i fucking hate you.” with that, you storm out without another word. his friends are left dangerously confused, unaware that you and satoru have any kind of history. to everyone else, you’re just the annoying neighbor that he’s been putting up with since childhood. you can’t help but think back to when he was seven and too ashamed to be your friend genuinely, always mean to you at school but knocking on your door after. now, at seventeen, he’s too ashamed to ask you to be his girlfriend genuinely. he treats you like the rest of them. he says it’s different with you, but you now know most certainly that’s not the case at all. the tears start to fall once you’re home and you crawl into your bed, your head tucked into your arms. satoru leaves you crying once again, just like he always does. and then your phone buzzes.

satoru: you know it’s nothing pea.

satoru: you know i love you.

and for some reason, the person you hate the most finally confessing his love to you over a text message because he wouldn’t dare say it aloud makes you cry even harder. you hate him so much.

twenty.

he didn’t officially ask for your night but he decidedly takes it for himself in the form of little kisses down your spine, loving touches, and a possessive grip of your hips. that’s him staking a claim on you. he can’t let you leave. it’s close to midnight and he wants to be first. he wants to come before any of the others. satoru wants to have his mouth hovering over yours and breathe his “happy birthday” right between your lips. you keep talking about going out and meeting up with your friends at a club. he obviously can’t go with you but he saw what you were planning on wearing and he sure as fuck isn’t letting any other man but himself see you in that. the thought of another person’s fingertips dancing up your thighs like his are right now sickens him. no, he didn’t ask for your night but you had to know as soon as you entered his apartment, your night became his. you had to know you’d be straddling his lap and rolling your hips over his. you had to know you’d be singing his name. any and all plans you had are pointless little ideas he won’t let you out of his grip long enough to follow through with. you both know you’d rather stay here and lick the quiet devotion off the surface of his lips. it’s all for you anyway. “you’re…not slick.” you moan in his ear, a hint of amusement laced with desire. “i know what you’re doing.” he hums in response, shamelessly unapologetic as his teeth graze against your neck, his nails leaving delicious imprints on your skin, and his hands guiding your movements up and down his length. he doesn’t care. you know it. he knows it. he knows you know what he’s doing. it’s not a deterrence. it’s not like you’re exactly fighting to waltz out the door. “so? you’re still here, aren’t you?” he breathes, a satisfied groan following. “fuck, just like that, baby.” you thread your fingers through the locks of his pristinely white hair, tugging on the tresses and pulling his head back to meet his eyes, his masochistic little moans falling from his mouth without warning. there’s a knot building in his stomach when you’re forcing him to look in your eyes while your hips swirl on him. he’s so fucking in love with you and the thought alone is about to send him spiralling into every ounce of pleasure you’ve been gathering up in him. “you talk way too much.” you retort. “you have fantastic dick, but you talk too fucking much.” it takes everything he has to remain quiet. his entire being is focused on this moment, feeling the way every single cell in his body flickers to life under your touch, in the arms of your mercy. the muscles in his groin tighten as he grasps your ass and tries to shove himself deeper into you. you purr in his ear, stuck in the center of your bliss, and slowly speed up your movements, raising yourself up slightly and lowering down again, making sure to sink as far onto him as you possibly can. he gasps for breath and thrusts his hips upward into you. he teeters closer and closer to the edge, his face flushed and a thin line of sweat building on his forehead; he clings to the anticipation of his descent. he’s so close to the precipice of pleasure that he can’t bear the thought of you stopping. desperation lacing his voice, he pleads. “shut me up, baby. please shut me up.” you always do. you have been for years.

it’s been your dynamic for all this time, the back-and-forth banter where you invariably have the last word. it’s a dance you both know well.

you always get the last word, don’t you?

tonight, he gets what he wants — he’s the first ‘happy birthday’ to fall on your ears, a dulcet little hymn of honeyed sighs and tender murmurs. when it’s over, the echoes of your intimate encounter linger right above you, and he lies there with your head resting on his chest — the same chest that currently erupts with warmth. his mind drifts back to the memory of your sixteenth birthday when he finally invited you into the secret haven of the tree house he and his dad built years ago. you’d been asking to come up and see the inside since he finished it at thirteen. he always said no, but that was a special day for both of you, so he asked if you wanted to hang out up there with him. he was shocked when you so easily agreed. it helped because he wanted to tell you he liked you, but instead, he just ended up kissing you for the first time. and thus, this intricate game of cat and mouse ensued with satoru playing for keeps but never playing fairly. “i’m still going out.” you declare as you both lay there. “i know you’re trying to keep me here, ‘toru, but it’s not going to work this time.” he exhales sharply, his frustration evident. “why? why won’t you just hang out here with me like you always do?” “because i want to go out, get drunk with my friends, and dance with someone who doesn’t mind being seen with me,” you retort, rolling your eyes in exasperation. “i’m sure you can understand.” his jaw ticks. now you’re just going out of your way to provoke and upset him. you came over, got what you wanted from him, and now you’re so blatantly going off to frolic around looking for another guy because you want some attention outside? he must mean absolutely nothing to you, and he feels utterly insignificant. he knows what you guys have is unorthodox, but he at least attempts to keep the other girls he’s involved with from intruding into your world. “why the fuck would i want to be with you when you look at me and say you need more attention right after i’ve spent the entire night catering to your every fucking whim?“ he explodes in anger. "but it doesn’t matter. if you’re so desperate to ride another guy’s dick, then go ahead, but get out of my face about us being public.” you look taken aback, a mixture of shock and speechlessness overtaking you.

“satoru, i didn’t say anything about fucking anyone. i said i want to dance. people go out to do that, you know? except you and me. but i still want to do it and i won’t let you hold me back just because you’ve got some warped shame about us being together and other people knowing about it. i’ve told you countless times, and you still don’t fucking get it,” you continue, frustration evident in your voice. “i won’t wait for you. i care deeply for you, but i’m no longer putting my life on hold to entertain your uncertainty. i turned twenty, just now, and i’m done wasting my time. whenever you’re ready, truly ready, you know where to find me. but don’t be surprised if you take too long and someone else fills the spot by the time you make up your mind.” he hates that you say it because he knows it’s the truth. and he knows he would be devastated if you were to replace him, but he can’t. he can’t give you what you want, not right now. this realization fills him with a fit of seething anger, but his frustration always seems to be channelled outward, directed at you, his eyes fixated on your vulnerable form. “who the fuck would want to be with you and fill any empty slot in your life?” he retorts, his voice intentionally laced with venom. “there’s a reason you always come crawling back. so fuck off. hit me up when you’re ready.” his anger blazes, but in the depths of his belligerence, he acknowledges that it’s not really you.

he can never be mad at you, not truly. he loves you too much. “satoru, you gargoyle, i’ve had enough of you. you’re such a fucking jerk. all you ever do is lash out like a petulant child when you don’t get your way and you know what? i hate you. i really fucking hate you. i’m sick of you. you’re right. i will call you when i’m ready and don’t be fucking surprised if it’s not for a while, if ever.” inwardly he wants to say, “no, pea. please don’t leave. i love you. i just want you to stay. all of this is because i just want you to stay with me.”

but instead, he spits, “fuck you. i hate you, too.” you snort. “some fucking birthday. bye, satoru.” and with that, you turn away, leaving him there, grappling with his conflicting emotions and the sting of his own words.

twenty-seven.

“pea, stop.” he begs. “please let me explain.” here you go again. you can’t help but feel a sense of deja vu. you should have known better than to let him back into your life. it’s a pattern that’s been repeating itself for the past twenty years. he’s always been drowning in shame and hiding your relationship, keeping it confined to quiet hotel rooms far away from prying eyes. it’s the same old story, except this time, you’ve found out that he’s not only been hiding your relationship but he’s also gotten married sometime in the last five years. and for the last three months, you’ve been [ unknowingly ] helping him cheat on his wife. you ran into him by pure chance. it was a one-in-a-million stroke of luck that you landed in the same aisle at the same grocery store at the same time. he had said it was meant to be. because that’s what you promised when you let him go five years prior at twenty-two.

“at this point, there’s no way in hell i believe we’re meant to be. it would have to be some once-in-a-lifetime chance that even after cutting all fucking ties, we somehow end up back in front of each other. if that happens, then i promise you, i’ll fucking believe it. until then, get the fuck out of my life, satoru. i’m tired of you and all the shit you continuously put me through.”

well, it happened. you ended up back in front of each other. you kept your word. you believed it. you believed him. and now, here you are, caught in the same old cycle of hurt and betrayal. you can’t help but wonder if some things truly never change, no matter how hard you try. “are you married or not?” you ask harshly through your tears. you know the answer; you just want to know how much of a coward he truly is. “pea…baby…fuck.” he says, tears sliding down his cheeks. “it should have been you. i am married, but…it should have been you. i wasted a lot of fucking time. i don’t want to anymore. i didn’t tell you because the second i saw you again, i had full intention to leave her. pea, you have to believe me.”

that’s the problem.

you do believe him, and it makes it all worse. he’s talking to you like you should be grateful that he was willing to break an innocent woman’s spirit with no remorse for you, as if you should still harbor the capacity to trust him in spite of it all. your fists are pounding against his chest. your purse is swinging to relentlessly harm him, to give him all twenty years of the pain he’s caused you back. “you’re such a fucking jerk! god, i fucking hate you so fucking much! he sinks to his knees, sobbing, hugging your legs. “i love you. i’ve always loved you. even when i was terrorizing you in second fucking grade and every day on. baby, i love you.” it’s everything you’ve always wanted to hear from him. he just waited until you couldn’t love him openly anymore. a man who will betray his wife will betray anyone. not recklessness embodied, but selfishness. greed. and for some reason, the person you hate the most finally having the gall to love you openly but only after he knows he can’t anymore makes you cry even harder. you hate him so much.

thirty.

three years. three long, agonizing years have passed since his world crumbled beneath his feet, the moment he lost you for good. he hasn’t spoken to you in a long time, in an eternity it feels like. you changed your number shortly after the night you discovered the truth — he was married and had been for two years, deceiving both you and his ex-wife with the other for three months. he deserves the life he’s living, cheap thrills and fleeting flings. he’ll never fall in love again. seated alone at the bar, his sanctuary away from work, his gaze fixated on the digital clock mounted on the wall, he clutches a miniature glass of top-shelf whiskey, the very brand that used to bring a smile to your face. he downs a swift shot, the fiery liquid scorching his throat, the burning sensation in his eyes mirroring the impending tears. satoru watches as 11:59 seamlessly transitions into midnight. “happy birthday, pea.” he mumbles to himself. a single tear escapes, a testament to his internal turmoil. he makes no attempt to brush it away. he misses you so fucking much. the depth of his longing resides right there in the cavern of his chest. every day of his existence, he yearns for you, his heartache a constant companion. he had you within his grasp, but he held onto you so dishonestly; it’s no wonder that you slipped through his fingers. he’s such a jerk. he’s well aware of his despicable nature—a jerk, just as you always claimed. he knows how much you despise him, a truth reinforced by your absence every single day, a constant reminder of his failures. he recalls vividly the last time he let you down on one of your birthdays, your twentieth to be exact, and the anguish that enveloped him as he witnessed the pain etched in your eyes before you silently slipped out of his apartment. “some fucking birthday,” he mutters, the words an echo of his remorse and regret.

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give-seconds · 3 years

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I Love You

This is part two of my Jisung fic for A Vibe collab! If you haven’t read part one, here it is!

Paring: Jisung x genderneutral reader

Warnings: Death of a parent

Summary: In which you’ve been obsessed with the idea of meeting your soulmate since you were born, but your soulmate doesn’t think the same.

Word count: 19.9k

---

It’s been a month and a half since you found out Jisung was your soulmate. It took a week of Chenle’s magic counseling (his words, not yours) until you were able to stop avoiding him and Jaemin. Chenle made you realize that even if they had something now, Jisung was your soulmate. The more you got to know each other, the easier it would be for you two in the future. No matter how far away that future is.

After that week, you had to slowly condition yourself to be around them. It wasn’t easy at first, and it took you a few days to be able to look Jaemin in the eyes. Even though it took a month for you to be semi-normal with them again, they never pushed you to spend time with them. Of course, they still made offers for you to join for certain activities, and Jaemin made sure to let you know you didn’t have to do anything you weren’t comfortable doing.

In short, you quickly realized what Jisung saw in him. If you didn’t know who your soulmate was, you might have wished he were your soulmate.

“If you were to give someone an ‘I’m sorry I’ve been so weird lately, but thanks for being so understanding’ gift, what would you give them?” you ask into the phone.

“I don’t know, man. If you ask me, you don’t even need to get them anything,” Chenle answers.

“But you don’t understand,” you sigh, picking up a bar of chocolate and flipping it over to look at the back, “I’ve been so distant from them. They’re my only friends here, and I’m thankful they didn’t drop me after I left during that first lunch. I mean, I ghosted them for like a week or two. If I were them, I would’ve dropped me.”

“Okay, okay, I get your point. Get them a flower or just a card. Oh, offer to buy them lunch.”

“I already got them lunch, but I want to give them something more. So maybe a plant or something?”

“Unless you don’t like plants.”

“Why would you say that?” you laugh, stepping to the side of the aisle to try and stand more out of the way.

“I don’t know! Just buy them a fake one. That way, if they like plants, they can have one that looks like one. If they don’t like them, then they don’t have to worry about keeping it alive.”

“Have I ever told you how useless you are in these situations?”

“What can I say? I’ve never been in this situation before. So you have fun, and I’m going to enjoy sitting at home with my ice cream.”

“Completely, utterly useless.”

“If you’re done hurting my feelings,” he says, and you hear the sound of clinking as he picks a spoon from the drawer, “I have ice cream to get back to.”

You scoff, shaking your head. “Fine. Abandon me, like you always do.”

He chuckles. “Finally, I can’t wait to be rid of you.”

You smile to yourself, rolling your eyes at his words. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

“Was that your soulmate?”

You jump, spinning around to meet the person behind you, hand held against your chest. “Why did you do that?”

Jisung smiles. “I had to let you know I was here somehow.”

“And just saying ‘hi’ was too hard?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “There’s no spark in that.”

You scoff, shaking your head. “There’s a reason Jaemin and you get along so well, and I think that’s a big part of it. But uh—” you look away from him, turning your body to look at the same bar you looked at earlier “—no, that wasn’t my soulmate. Just my best friend.”

He nods, his eyes wandering around the aisle. “You two seem close. And before you worry too much, my English isn’t good enough to follow the rest of the conversation I heard, which wasn’t much to begin with.”

You smile softly, not taking your eyes away from the chocolate. “We are. We grew up together. He’s in China now, so I don’t see him that much,” you place the bar back on the self, turning to smile at him, “but I make sure to call him often so he can’t forget me.”

It shocked you for a second, Jisung asking you if someone else was your soulmate. You forgot for a second that you are the only one between you two who knows of the connection between you two.

“Sounds about right. If Jaemin moved to another country, I think I’d do about the same thing.”

“I’m glad you understand.”

“So what are you doing here?” he asks, changing the subject.

“Oh, I’m looking for a gift to give my classmate. It’s his birthday coming up, but I don’t know him that well, so I was thinking of a plant? Do you like plants?”

He tilts his head from side to side. “Eh, kind of. I like how they make a room look though; they definitely spice things up.”

“Well, how about, if you’re not busy, you come and help me pick one out? His personality kind of reminds me of a mixture of you and Jaemin.”

“Sure. I was just here looking because I’m bored, so it’s not like I’m in a rush.”

“Weird, but okay.”

“Says you!" he exclaims, following you as you leave the aisle and walk towards the plant section. "You’re here buying a plant for a guy you barely know.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

---

“Hey y/n, on Friday, Jaemin and I are going camping to celebrate the end of summer. Would you like to come with us?”

After you gave them the apology plants, Jaemin and Jisung had, of course, accepted your apology. It had turned more emotional than you thought it would, with Jisung telling you he didn’t have a lot of friends outside of you and Jaemin, and he was thankful you still wanted to stay friends. Jaemin agreed, saying he was worried they had pushed you away. He further went on to call you stupid and say you had nothing to apologize for.

“For how long are you thinking?” you ask, not looking up from the table you are wiping down.

“Just for the weekend,” Jisung answers, spinning himself on one of the stools that sat at the counter. “We’d be back Sunday night.”

You nod your head, dropping the rag back into the bucket and grabbing the spray that sat next to it. “Yeah, that sounds fun. How far out are we going?”

“It’s about three hours away. But Jaemin is going to borrow his friend’s car, so we don’t have to take a bus or anything. He’ll be our personal driver.”

You snort, shaking your head slightly as you walk into the backroom to put the cleaning supplies away. “Sounds good,” you yell.

“It’ll be fun,” he yells back so you can hear him. “We’ll all share one tent, and I'll be sure to put you in the middle so you feel safe and sound."

“Tell me why that makes me feel more unsafe?” you ask, leaning on the counter next to him.

He shrugs, smiling innocently. “Because you have an active imagination and a low opinion of us.”

You pretend to think for a second before nodding your head in agreement. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

---

“You guys will never guess what just happened,” Jaemin exclaims, drawing your attention away from the card game in front of you.

“Sounds like the walk to the main office was more exciting than I thought it would be,” you joke, placing your cards face down on the metal table.

“Yeah,” Jisung answers, placing his cards on the table opposite yours. “I thought Y/n teaching me how to play spoons would be the most eventful thing, given it is the most stressful card game I have—”

“You’re just weak. Spoons is the best game—”

“You’re a psycho.”

“Psycho!”

“I’m hijacking this conversation to bring the attention back to me,” Jaemin interrupts, taking a seat next to Jisung. “Are you ready to hear the best thing to ever happen to me?”

You smile, happy to see your friend practically vibrating from happiness. “Yes, Jaemin, don’t keep us waiting any longer.”

“Are you ready Jisung?” he asks, hugging his arm excitedly.

“Yes, yes I am,” he laughs, trying to pull his arm away.

“Okay, okay,” he takes a deep breath, shifting his eyes between you and Jisung, “I met my soulmate while at the main office.”

You immediately look over to Jisung, watching as his smile slips off his face, watching again as he forcibly puts it back on.

“That’s great, Hyung. I’m so happy for you.”

“Yeah, Jaemin,” you force your gaze away from Jisung to look at Jaemin, smiling softly at him, “that’s great. What are they like?”

You’re thankful Jaemin can’t see the sad look in Jisung’s eyes or hear the forced happiness. You know Jisung must be hurt, and as his friend, you can’t help but feel bad for him—even if he is your soulmate.

“She’s absolutely wonderful,” he gushes, hugging Jisung’s arm tighter. “She’s here with her friends, and she was going to the main office when I was on my way back. Up until now, I didn’t know what my mark was. But when I made eye contact with her, everything except her lost its color. She was literally the light of my life for five seconds.”

You smile, the soulmate enthusiast in you pushing away the pain you feel for Jisung. “That sounds beautiful Jaemin, congratulations.”

“Thank you y/n! Also, and if it’s okay with you two, I was going to take her to dinner tonight to get to know her better. Is that okay?”

“Of course, have fun on your date Jaemin.”

Jisung nods his head, effectively pulling his arm away from Jaemin. “Yeah, go have fun Hyung.”

Jaemin smiles widely, pulling Jisung into a hug. “Thank you both so much. I know I set out to find us a dinner place and am now leaving you, and this is our first day here, but I’ll send you a list of some nice places that are within walking distance. And if you don’t want to go out, we have food in the cooler.”

Jisung nods his head, smiling sadly. “Yeah yeah, we got it Hyung. Go have fun.”

He nods his head, smiling brightly as he stands up from the table. “Okay, thank you both so much. I’ll see you when I get back.

You wave as he jogs out of your campsite and somewhere to the left.

After Jaemin leaves, silence falls over you two. When you turn to look at Jisung, he’s staring in the direction Jaemin had run off in. Your heart breaks at the sight of his watery eyes, knowing it must feel more or less what you felt when you found out about Jisung being your soulmate.

You clear your throat, picking your cards up and combining them with the deck. “I’m not feeling very well. Are you okay if we stop playing?”

He wordlessly nods his head, not taking his eyes away from the spot. “My head is killing me; I think I’m going to go to the tent and sleep.” He turns his attention to you, weakly smiling. “Are you okay with that?”

You nod your head, smiling back at him. “Yeah, of course.”

He nods his head, a faraway look in his eyes, as he stands up from the table and makes his way to the tent.

---

Of course, this had to happen on what was meant to be a fun trip with his friends. He knew Jaemin would never love him back—that was something he had been slowly telling himself. This was too much too fast, though. He isn’t ready to lose Jaemin yet.

He pulls his knees close to his body, hugging his sleeping bag closer to him. He wants to cry, but he knows he can’t. It had taken him months to come to terms with himself and his bisexuality, but he doesn’t know if he’s ready to tell anyone else. He had gotten so used to telling Jaemin everything it felt weird that there was something more he was hiding from him.

He’s thankful you’re not questioning his sudden change in attitude. That is if you even noticed.

He squeezes his eyes shut, taking deep breaths to try and keep the tears from falling. He feels so alone, and he knows that if he just manned up and asked for help, he wouldn’t feel like this.

Taking a deep breath, he sits up enough to pull his phone out of his backpack. Laying back down, he turns on his phone and scrolls until he finds the one person he knows can make him feel better.

“Jisung-ah! To what do I owe this pleasure?”

He smiles at his mom’s bright voice, and when he closes his eyes, he can imagine her face. “Nothing, I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. It’s a nice day, and I just wanted to call my mother.”

“Don’t insult my motherly skills,” she says sternly, and Jisung snorts at her response. “Now, tell me what’s wrong before I force it out of you.”

“Now, how would you do that?”

“Park Jisung, don’t change the subject.”

He sighs, the fake smile he put up to try and convey a happy attitude falling. “There’s nothing wrong, so to say, I just set myself up to get my feelings hurt and have to deal with the consequences.”

“There’s no way it’s that black and white. How did you set yourself up?”

“I—” he cuts himself off, debating what he can and can't tell her. He couldn’t tell her he fell for his best friend. She would know right away that he was talking about Jaemin. “I started to like someone who wasn’t my soulmate. Then today, she found her soulmate.”

“Oh, Jisung,” she whispers, and he can feel the sympathy in her voice.

Would she still care if she really knew who it was? The thought alone was enough to make tears fall from his eyes.

“It’ll be okay. At least the bandaid was ripped right off, right?”

“Yeah,” he sniffles. “I just wish I had more time to prepare for the bandaid to be ripped off.”

“I know my love. But you still have your soulmate out there. Maybe you’ll love her even more than this girl.”

He suppresses a scoff. He feels horrible lying to his mom like this; she’s been his best friend since he was young. Like with Jaemin, he tells her everything.

“Yeah, I’m sure I will.”

He can’t tell his mom everything, not this time at least.

---

“Can I sit?”

Jisung blinks once before turning his head to look up at you. You smile down at him, your hands held behind your back. He silently nods once before he turns his attention back to the water in front of him.

He knows he is being dramatic, but he can’t help it. The man he loves is out on a date.

“I got you this,” you say, bringing your hand out from behind your back as you sit down to hand him an ice cream bar.

He smiles weakly, taking the ice cream from your outstretched hand. “Thank you for this and for bringing the food into the tent for me. I’m sorry both of your friends aren’t being very fun after we practically dragged you on this trip.”

You shrug your shoulders, eyes trained on unwrapping the ice cream. “It’s okay. You’re not feeling very well, and on top of that, your best friend just found his soulmate. It can’t be easy.”

Jisung freezes slightly at the comment before forcing himself to unwrap the bar to make himself feel less suspicious. “Why would Hyung finding his soulmate make me feel bad?”

You smile softly, not looking away from the bar. “My best friend found his soulmate, and that was really hard on me. I mean, I knew I wasn’t the most important person in his life, but at least I was someone. And I still am someone, but I don’t matter as much as I used to. Me and him still talk almost every day, but when he first found her, after every conversation, there was this nagging thought of 'and now he goes back to his soulmate.'” You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “And maybe I’m being selfish. But at the same time, I’m used to being his go-to. And now that he has someone who can be there for him when I can’t—in more ways than one—I just felt this great sense of loss.”

Jisung nods his head, taking a bite of the bar to try and keep the tears from falling.

“Don’t get me wrong,” you continue. “I’m happy for him, and I can’t wait to meet her. I just hope that when I see her, this feeling I have of being replaced is gone.”

“Replaced. That’s a good word for it.”

You nod your head, turning your attention away from the bar and out to the water. “You know, my friend once told me something when I was talking to him about my worries. And to summarize, he told me how no one could fill my place. That Xiulan holds a place in his heart as his soulmate, a place I never had, nor could I ever fill. I don’t know if this will help you, but after about a week of sulking, that advice helped me. So it might not be okay right now, but maybe with this ice cream and some time, you’ll realize you haven’t lost him.”

Jisung silently nods his head, letting silence fall between you two. He appreciates you offering your advice, and he can’t explain how relieved he feels knowing you think he’s only sad because he lost a best friend. He’s also thankful he doesn’t have to go through this alone. He’s glad Jaemin made him befriend you.

“Thank you, y/n.”

You glance over at him, smiling softly before looking back out at the water. “Eat your ice cream before it melts.”

---

This has got to be the weirdest situation you’ve been in in a long time.

Jaemin, and his soulmate Ki, decided to have a “bonding breakfast” with her and her group of friends. So now, you and Jisung are sitting at a picnic table with her three friends while Ki and Jaemin make pancakes.

You and Jisung exchange a look as the three girls on the opposite side of the table continue to talk to each other. They had started off including you in the conversation, but they had somehow trailed off to some inside story that you and Jisung had no choice but to listen.

“So uh,” you start once you notice their conversation come to an end. “Do you guys live far from here?”

“Oh no,” Gaeun, a girl with short hair and a dazzling smile, answers. “We live like thirty minutes away. How far out are you guys?”

“We’re like three hours or so away,” you answer, nodding your head. After a few seconds of awkward smiling and eye contact, you turn around to look at Ki and Jaemin, silently wishing they would hurry up.

“So y/n, Jisung, what are your soulmate marks?” Kyungsoon, a beautiful girl who, despite the meaning of her name, was anything but mild.

“Mine is the tally mark one,” Jisung answers, and it surprises you how nonchalantly he answers.

If your past said anything, it was that, normally, this question wouldn’t bother you. In any other situation, one where your soulmate isn’t literally sitting right next to you, you would have been the first person to ask this very question.

But because your soulmate is sitting next to you, and he doesn’t know you’re soulmates, you find yourself freezing at the question.

“I-uh I don’t know mine yet,” you answer, rubbing your wrist under the table. After all, for the majority of your life, it wasn’t a lie.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Kyungsoon says, and you smile softly at the sincerity in her voice. “Maybe your mark is something like Ki’s, and you’ll know it when you see them.”

“Yeah, maybe. How about you guys?”

“Oh, I actually met my soulmate when I was in my last year of high school,” Kyungsoon gushes. She reminds you a lot of yourself, and given your current soulmate situation, it’s nice to see someone as romantic as yourself. “He’s the nicest man I’ve ever met. And he knows how to cook! Which, for me, is a lifesaver. I can’t cook to save my life.”

“That’s amazing! I’m so happy for you Kyungsoon.”

She smiles brightly. “Thanks y/n! I bet you guys will find your soulmates soon.”

Jisung laughs, drawing your attention away from the girl opposite you.

“Jisung?”

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes with a bitter smile. “I just don’t know if I’m ready to meet my soulmate, and I don’t know if I ever will be. I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to interrupt. Soulmate conversations are just hard for me to have.”

“What? What do you mean?” you ask. You’re not sure if you want to hear what he has to say; the message was pretty clear the first time around. There is still a small sliver of hope that says maybe you’ve misunderstood.

“I just don’t know if I ever want to meet my soulmate,” he repeats, shrugging before he turns to look at Kyungsoon “That’s not to say I’m not happy for you, because I am. I’m just one of those people who doesn’t think a soulmate is for them.”

The other girls nod their heads, saying something about how they can understand that. You can hear them talking, but the only thing that processes in your head is that if Jisung found out who you are, he wouldn’t want anything to do with you.

“My parents were like that too,” Lian, a quiet girl who is by far the calmest member of their group, adds. “They met when my dad was in China studying abroad and had me a year after they graduated; despite not being married or soulmates. When I was six or so, my dad found his soulmate when he was back here on a visit. I’m not saying this to force you to find your soulmate, but just keep in mind that if you chose to live like that, nothing is certain.”

Jisung smiles softly, nodding his head in acknowledgment. “Having a soulmate who values you isn't certain either.”

After his statement, a silence settles over the table. It takes everything in you not to continue to stare at him. You can feel the awkward atmosphere, and normally you would do something to try and fix it. Right now though, you can’t bring yourself to even care. All your thoughts are centered on the fact that Jisung doesn’t seem to want anything to do with you.

“Pancakes are ready!”

---

Jaemin isn’t quite sure what happened.

The breakfast had been nice. It was fun getting to know Ki and her friends better while also hanging out with his own. After they had walked back to their camp, you, Jisung, and he packed up the camp.

It is now twenty minutes into the drive, and he could tell something had happened. On the drive here, you and Jisung had fought over the passenger seat. The car ride had been filled with conversation, and he thought the drive had passed relatively quickly.

Now though, Jisung had silently taken the back seat, and after the first five minutes, the conversation between you and him had mostly stopped. He tried to pick it up again, but he knows when people aren’t in the mood to talk.

“Hyung, can we stop at the next rest stop? I have to use the bathroom,” Jisung quietly asks from the backseat.

“Yeah, of course,” he answers, smiling into the rearview mirror.

Jisung isn’t looking at him and is instead gazing blankly out the window. It hurt Jaemin, the way Jisung had asked the question. He has never heard Jisung use that tone of voice with him. He sounded so hollow.

When they got to the rest stop, Jisung practically jumped out of the car as soon as it stopped.

“Should we go buy some snacks?” He suggests, looking over to you.

You nod your head, unbuckling your seat belt. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Jaemin hates this situation. Yes, there is something wrong with Jisung. But now, as you’re walking into the store, he sees something is wrong with you too. He feels helpless because he has no idea what even happened, and no one is telling him anything.

“Do you, uh, do you know what’s wrong with Jisung?” he asks nervously, sending a quick text to Jisung telling him where you are.

You wait a few seconds to answer, which he takes as you definitely know what’s wrong with his best friend. Again, it hurts him that his best friend, and now you, are hiding something from him.

“Yeah, I do,” you start slowly, and he can tell you’re hesitant to tell him. “I don’t know if I should be telling you this, so don’t tell him I told you. But I think he just feels threatened by Ki. I think he’s worried you’ll replace him.”

Jaemin nods his head, taking in a deep breath. Why does there have to be a downside to one of the happiest moments of his life? He’s been looking forward to this day since he heard the song Daddy Issues by The Neighbourhood five years ago at his music club in high school.

Like most people in the club, he was shocked when the title had been translated into Korean. He felt almost embarrassed for the girl that brought it up, worried that she would be judged by the other members—despite them being the nicest people he’s ever met.

But when she explained that the song was about the lead singer struggling to deal with his dad’s death and about how he loved the girl for her problems, he was able to see why she loved the song. The idea that a person could love someone else for their problems was magical to him.

That was when he decided he was looking forward to meeting his soulmate. He knows that just because people are soulmates that doesn’t mean they don’t have their problems. That being said, soulmates are made for each other, and he wants someone who is made for him, who will love him for his problems.

“I appreciate you telling me, even if Jisung didn’t want me to know. I’ll talk to him about it when we get back.”

You nod your head, picking up a bag of chips. “I’ll just have these. Are you getting anything?”

He shakes his head, picking up a bag of chips he’s seen Jisung eat many times. “I’ll just get something for Jisung. He texted saying he didn’t want anything and is going to wait in the car. But I know him better. Hey y/n?”

You hum in response. Despite the minimal response, he’s glad you didn’t seem to mind his quick change in topic.

“What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean? There’s nothing wrong.”

“I don’t know. You just seem … different. Did Ki and her friends make it awkward or uncomfortable for you?”

“Oh no,” you shake your head, sending him a small smile before mindlessly looking at the different snacks. But the look on your face seemed tired—and not from a lack of sleep. “I just hate long car rides. Don’t get me wrong, I loved Ki and her friends, but it’s a bit tiring for me to socialize with people I don’t know that well first thing in the morning.”

“Oh, okay. Well, thank you for doing that for me. It means a lot.”

You smile softly, nodding your heads towards the cashier. “You don’t need to thank me. I enjoyed talking with them.”

Jaemin smiles, following you to the cash register. “Well, the snacks are on me, as a thank you.”

You smile softly in thanks before turning and watching as the cashier scans the items.

He doesn’t know you as well as he knows Jisung, but he thinks you’re lying. He knows when to push, and right now, before a two-hour drive, is not the time to push.

“Ready to go home?” he asks, handing you your bag of chips.

You smile tiredly, nodding your head in response. He smiles back, trying to ignore the sadness in your eyes.

---

“Hey, how was your trip,” Chenle asks after you exchange hellos.

“It was fun!” You lean back against the kitchen counter, crossing your legs. “It was nice having some time with them outside of school.”

“Oh, I bet. Anything fun happen? Any bear attacks?”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “You know it! There were five bear attacks.”

“Wow, that little? Normally it’s in the twenties. How lucky you three were.”

“I know right! And on top of not being attacked by a bear, Jaemin met his soulmate.”

The line goes silent, and you almost feel bad for changing the mood so fast. But Chenle’s your best friend, he’s always there for you, and you’re always there for him.

“Is Jisung okay,” he asks softly.

You shrug your shoulders. “He’s as okay as you can imagine.”

“And how about you? Are you okay?”

You sigh, rubbing your free hand over your face. “You know, in full honesty, I was happy. I mean, this was my chance to show him how worthy I am of being his soulmate. This was my chance, Chenle.”

“Then what?”

“Then he said he doesn’t want to meet his soulmate.”

He sighs, and you squeeze your eyes shut.

“I know I have this conversation with you all the time,” you take a deep breath and push back the tears in your eyes, “but why does this have to happen to me? I like to think that I’m a nice person, so why doesn’t my soulmate want me? I just-this isn’t fair.”

“Y/n no,” he coos softly. “It’ll be okay.”

“How Chenle, how? Because the person I have been waiting my whole life for just said he didn’t want me.”

“Y/n you were worried about the same thing when you found out about Jaemin. That turned out okay and so will this.”

In any other situation, you would appreciate his optimism.

“Come on, Chenle. I appreciate you listening to me, don’t get me wrong, but do you really think this will be okay? I mean, he said he didn’t want to meet his soulmate at all. Last time, you told me it would be okay because I had a place in his heart that couldn’t be filled. Now, though, I’m trying to win a place in his heart. He doesn’t even want me, Chenle.”

You take a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut. You hate everything about this situation. You have never liked drama, and ever since you met Jisung, your life has gotten more dramatic.

But he’s your soulmate; you love him.

“Okay y/n, listen. I know that right now, it seems impossible. But you believe in soulmates, right?”

You blink your eyes in shock. “Chenle I- yeah, of course, I do.”

“Then there’s your answer. He is your soulmate, y/n. He was made from the same star as you, and you have been with him for every single one of your past lives and will continue to be with him for your next lives. So maybe in this life, you guys just have a long story.”

You sigh, wiping your eyes. “Why me, though? I like to think I’ve been a good person, so why does my happy ending have to take so long?”

He laughs, and you can imagine he’s leaning back against the wall next to his bed. “Life has not been easy to us, has it?”

You chuckle, thinking about all the times you would stay at Chenle’s when your parents were too busy to look after you, or vice versa. High school had been the worst for both of you. It was when your parents decided you were old enough to look after yourselves and they could start taking more time-consuming projects.

You chuckle. “No, no, it wasn’t.”

“Do you remember that time when both our parents were gone, and you called me to come over because you were just having a horrible day? To be more specific, it was the first time I used the key to your house that you gave me. I opened the door, and the first thing I said was ‘sit down, I’m going to make you the best dinner you’ve ever had.’”

You chuckle. “Yeah, I remember. I’d had the worst day ever, and you put marina sauce on bread with cheese on top and called it pizza after cooking it in the oven.”

“And it was the best dinner of your life.”

“Whatever floats your boat.”

“You’re just in denial. Anyways, my point is, you’re going to be okay. You didn’t have parents around every day like most kids, but you came out just fine. And if your soulmate isn’t someone who sticks around every day, you’ll be okay too. There are other options.”

You scoff. You know what the other options are. They’re dating apps and bars made specifically for people whose soulmates had died or rejected them. Just like when you first read about your mark, you pitted the people who went there. And now, that person might be you.

“I know those options don’t seem very desirable, but if that’s what has to happen, then that’s what happens.”

“You’re right. I’m overthinking things.” You know you’re not unreasonably overthinking things; Chenle just has a way of seeing things simply. This is your soulmate, after all, the person you’ve been dying to meet since you could form a coherent thought.

“No, not really. I just have an outside perspective, so it’s easier for me to be objective,” he replies cheekily.

You smile, rolling your eyes at his attitude. “I raised you better than this.”

“Obviously not. How does it feel to fail?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

—-

“I’m sorry, what?”

To say Jisung is nervous would be an understatement.

This morning, you had sent him and Jaemin a text telling them they had to meet you at this café they had never heard of and that it was important. He had been the last to arrive, but judging from the fact Jaemin was still looking at the menu, he isn’t too late. He decided to sit next to you, and he tried to ignore the little glance Jaemin sent him over the menu.

It has been a month since Jaemin found his soulmate, and Jisung is still having a hard time adjusting. He knows Jaemin isn’t dumb, and he knows Jaemin noticed something was off about him. He just can’t force himself to be around him and act like everything is normal. It hurt too much.

“Listen, I know it’s fast,” you explain. “But my friend is coming back from China, and he didn’t tell me until this morning. He’s a very spontaneous person, and he said he wanted to meet you guys, and I was so excited at the fact that he’s back in the country that I just said yes.”

Jaemin chuckles, shaking his head slightly as he slides the menu across to him. “How come we’ve never heard of him? I didn’t even know you had a friend in China”

“Neither did I,” he adds, picking up the menu to see what drinks they have. Since he hadn’t known he was going to be meeting you today, he had already eaten.

“Okay, yes, but I have mentioned him to you, Jisung. He was the friend I was talking to when you scared me at the store.”

Jisung nods his head, not looking away from the menu. He remembers that friend, the friend who sounded like your soulmate but wasn’t. The fact that he’s about to meet someone so close to you without knowing anything about him worries him. What if he says something stupid to make your friend hate him, causing you to hate him?

“Fine, let me revise. Why haven’t I heard of him?” Jaemin asks, and Jisung can tell he’s smiling.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you look down towards your wrist before looking back up. “He just never came up, I guess.”

“Fine, then what is his—”

“Y/n?”

You and Jisung turn towards the voice before his attention is quickly drawn to you shooting out of your seat to hug a boy with light brown hair. “Chenle! Welcome back.”

Setting down the menu, Jisung slides out of his seat as quietly as he can and into the vacant seat next to Jaemin. Jaemin smiles softly at him, and Jisung quickly flashes him a smile before bringing his attention back to you and Chenle.

“It’s good to be back,” Chenle answers, and Jisung smiles softly at the way he hugs you tightly.

“I see you dyed your hair brown again,” you smile, backing out of the hug and ruffling his hair.

He smiles back at you, rolling his eyes. “I was telling Xiulan how much you liked my brown hair, and I realized how much I liked my brown hair, so I brought it back.”

You laugh, and Jisung notices how much happier you seem. “Well, you look nice. Now, before we make my friends uncomfortable,” you turn to face Jisung and Jaemin, your wide smile still present, “Chenle, this is Jaemin and Jisung. Jaemin and Jisung, this is my best friend, Chenle.”

“It’s nice to meet you two. Y/n has told me a lot about you both,” he says as you both sit down. Chenle smiles at them both, but Jisung notices the way his eyes linger on him longer than Jaemin.

Jisung smiles shyly back, breaking eye contact out of nervousness. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

“Yeah, it’s nice to meet you too. But I can’t say y/n has told me a lot about you. This is actually the first time I’m hearing about you,” Jaemin greets, and he doesn’t miss the teasing smile Jaemin sends you.

“What? Are you ashamed of me or something?” Chenle asks, poking you on the arm.

“Oh, you know it,” you respond, wacking his hand, “I knew they wouldn’t want to hang out with me if they knew I hung out with someone like you.”

Jisung and Jaemin chuckle softly at the bickering. It might be too early to tell, but Jisung is willing to bet with Chenle here, he’s going to see a new side of you.

---

“Thank you, sir,” Jisung thanks, handing the cab driver the amount owed.

Jisung isn’t sure he can do this. Sure, it had been fun hanging out with Chenle, and, at the time, he thought it would be fun to hang out with him again.

Now that he was standing in front of a house he has never been to, with the intention to go in and watch a movie with you and someone he met this morning, he’s having second thoughts.

Despite it being hard to be around Jaemin, he wishes more than anything that he was standing next to him now. Had he known Jaemin wasn’t able to make it, he probably wouldn’t have accepted. Maybe it was his own fault for being slightly distant from Jaemin recently, but he used to know when Jaemin was busy and when he wasn’t.

Sighing, he pulls out his phone and presses on your contact. “I’m here y/n,” he says as soon as you pick up.

You chuckle. “Hello to you too. Chenle's on the third floor, apartment 311.”

“Okay, see you soon.”

Sighing again, he hangs up the phone, shoving it back into his pocket before he pulls the door open. Tapping his finger against each other as he walks to the elevator, he pushes against the feeling that something bad is going to happen. He should have brought something, a gift of some kind. Isn’t it rude to show up at someone’s house without a gift of some kind?

Shaking his head, he pushes the up button on the elevator, stepping in a second later.

“It’ll be okay, Jisung,” he mumbles to himself, watching the red number at the top change. “Y/n’s there, and they won’t put you in an uncomfortable position. You’ll be fine.”

He finds himself repeating the last three words as the elevator dings open, and he begins walking in what he assumes to be the right direction. Judging by how the numbers on the door kept increasing, he’d say he made the right decision.

Soon, he finds himself in front of the door with 311 posted on the front. Taking a deep breath, he brings his fist up and knocks on the door three times.

“Welcome to the-“ Chenle announces as he opens the door.

“Lee household,” y/n finishes. Judging from the confused glance Chenle sends you, that wasn’t part of the plan.

“Thank you for inviting me here,” he responds, slowly walking into the room and placing his shoes with the others. “Are you sure I’m not overstepping? I’m sure you want to spend some time with your family.”

“Oh, don’t worry, you’re not,” Chenle answers, closing the door behind him and walking to the left.”My parents don’t get back for another two days. Your company is welcome.”

“What about me,” y/n responds. “I’m literally sleeping in the room across from yours. Am I not enough company for you?”

Chenle pokes his head from around the corner, looking you up and down, before shaking his head and letting out a simple, “Nah.”

You gasp dramatically, and Jisung watches in amusement as Chenle disappears behind the corner again.

"Can you believe the nerve of that guy?" you huff, leaning against the wall as you wait for Jisung to remove his shoes. "You're friends with someone for as long as you can remember, and this is how he treats you. Make a mental note, Jisung men aren't worth it."

Jisung chuckles. "Yeah, I'll be sure to remember that. I'm sure it'll help me tons in my life, you know, being a guy and all."

"Glad you agree! Now come this way, and follow me to the semi comfy couch."

"What did you say about my couch?" Chenle asks, watching as you both walk into the room.

"That's it's semi comfy," you answer, taking a seat next to him. "Ready to start?" you ask, patting the spot next to you and looking up at him.

“I’m just going to go to the bathroom first,” Jisung says awkwardly.

“Okay, it’s just down that hall and to the right. You’ll find it,” y/n answers, pointing to a hall on the other side of the room.

He walks towards the hallway, checking over his shoulder once to make sure he is going in the right direction. When you nod in reassurance, he turns the corner and is met with a short hallway with two doors. Pushing an already open door he assumes to be the bathroom further open, he’s met with a white bathroom.

“My mom would be so jealous of this room,” he mumbles to himself, closing the door behind him.

Coming out of the bathroom, he finds himself face to face with a photo of what he assumes to be Chenle’s family. Above the picture, the words “种 family” are printed in black letters.

Jisung tilts his head to the side in confusion. He can’t say for sure, but from what he remembers from the Hanja lessons at school, 种 doesn’t translate to Lee.

He doesn’t know what it translates to, so he takes a photo of it to check later. He feels like he’s overstepping, especially since Chenle invited him into his home despite only meeting him this morning. It just doesn't sit right with him; why would you lie to him?

“Y/n,” He hears Chenle whisper as he walks closer. The rest of the conversation is continued in fast English, making it hard to follow. Not that he’s trying to eavesdrop.

His presence in the room causes the conversation to end, and he freezes a second as they both look over at him. He smiles shyly, quickly walking towards the couch and taking the seat next to you.

“Ready to start?”

“Yeah, what are we watching?”

“Hope you like horror, Jisung, because that’s our favorite genre to watch together,” Chenle answers, scrolling through the movies on Netflix.

“Of course, if it really makes you uncomfortable, we can watch something else,” you add, smiling softly at him over your shoulder.

Jisung looks at the movie on the screen, a movie called Hush. “Um no, horror is good. I haven’t watched too many horror movies, so it’ll be nice to find out if I like them or not.”

“Good!” Chenle cheers, pressing play. “Then off we go!”

“We’re soulmates.”

You blink back at him, the smile dropping off your face. “How’d you know?”

“You knew, didn’t you.”

Normally, Jisung isn’t this forward. He liked to word things carefully and do anything in his power to avoid confrontation. Normally, instead of meeting you outside your dorm building, he would’ve met you at a café or a park. Right now, however, he is too annoyed to take the time to be polite. You had lied to him.

You nod your head. “How did you find out?”

“There was a photo of Chenle and his family that said ‘Zhong family.’” He rolls up his sleeve to show you his tally mark. “Knowing that, the ZCL wasn’t too hard to understand. You really went on a date with your best friend?”

Your eyebrows raise in shock, and Jisung only barely notices the sharp tone in his voice. “Are you judging me?”

“No, no, I just better understand how you were able to give me such good advice about Jaemin.”

You laugh. “Listen, I don’t know why you’re being like this but you have no right. I have never had any interest in dating Chenle. I was able to give you that advice because while I may not love Chenle how you love Jaemin—which is fine, by the way—I do love him.”

Jisung is taken back with embarrassment. He feels naked now that you know about this part of him, and for a moment, he’s worried you’ll ridicule him. How did you even know? He hasn’t told anyone and he thinks he’s been relatively discrete about it. Then it clicks. You’re his soulmate. Again, he finds himself hating soulmates. If it weren’t for this, no one would know.

“You-you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You sigh. “Jisung, I’m—”

“Y/n,” he interrupts, his embarrassment fueling his anger. “I can’t see you anymore.”

“Wait,” you laugh humorlessly. “Let me get this straight, you’re deciding you can’t be around me anymore because I’m the person you’re supposed to spend the rest of your life with?”

“You don’t understand,” Jisung sighs. Despite the embarrassment, he knows he isn’t in the right to be annoyed or angry; but you don’t understand what he’s trying to do and it's furthering his annoyance. He’s trying to help you.

“You’re right, I don’t. Because there isn’t anything to understand. But please, tell me what you think I need to understand.”

“I don’t need to explain this to you, so if you can’t understand I’m sorry. But I never liked the idea of soulmates, okay? My parents are soulmates and they didn’t fit well together, they still don’t. There is nothing certain about them, so why do I have to spend my life looking for this one person when I don’t even know who they are? I want to get to know the person before I decide if I want to spend my life with them. Not because I’m supposed to be with them.”

You scoff. “You’re being selfish and contradicting your own logic. You got to know me before you found out we are soulmates.”

“Selfish?” he laughs. “How am I being selfish?”

“Because you’re deciding you’re more important than I am. You’re deciding that your feelings of ‘oh, my parents failed as soulmates so me and y/n will fail too’ is more important than anything I have to say. Instead of considering my side, which is, ‘I understand that Jisung is afraid, but I’m willing to work with him to realize it doesn’t have to go the way he thinks it will.’”

He scoffs. “I hardly think that’s being selfish.”

“Oh, you don’t? I’ve waited my whole life to meet my soulmate, and when I did, I found out he wants nothing to do with me. So you know what I do? I put my feelings aside, and I decide I’m going to prove to you that I’m worthy of being your soulmate. That if you still don’t want me after I’ve given my all, then I’ll respect your wishes and you’ll never have to think of me as your soulmate again. But you, you weren’t thinking about me when you decided this, and you’re still not thinking about me. If not selfish, then what?”

He shakes his head. “I’m not going to let you talk to me like this. We can talk more when you’re calmed down.”

You nod your head. “Okay, you do that. My words may be harsh, and maybe I could have worded this better, but none of it is false. So you go, think about what I said, and let me ‘calm down.’ Then later, you’re going to decide how you want this relationship to continue for the time being. Because I love you, Jisung, and I’m not going to give up on you yet. But if you come to me tomorrow and decide you don’t want me right now, then I’m done chasing after you for the time being. I need a break from being second best.”

You and Jisung look at each other in silence before he takes a deep breath and turns away from you, quickly walking away from your dorm building.

---

When he gets back to his room, he quickly throws himself face-first onto his bed. He still can’t believe the conversation he just had with you. How could you not understand? He was trying to help you; he was trying to save you from a forced relationship.

Sighing, he flips around onto his back and pulls his phone out of his back pocket. Opening his contacts, he scrolls until he finds the one he’s looking for. Jaemin’s contact.

He knows he has been distant towards Jaemin, and he feels bad that he’s only starting to get close to him again because he needs his advice. Better now than never, right?

“Jisung!” Jaemin exclaims as soon as he picks up. “What’s up?”

“I was hoping I could talk to you about something.”

“Yeah, of course. What is it?”

Jisung sighs, the conversation still fresh in his mind. “Y/n and I are soulmates. They knew we’re soulmates and they didn’t even tell me.”

The line goes silent, and Jisung can imagine his friend is having a hard time deciding what he should say. “How do you feel about that?”

Jisung shrugs his shoulders, putting the phone on speaker before laying it on top of his chest. “Just as you imagine I would. I never wanted to meet my soulmate, and now I find out my soulmate is one of my best friends. How is that fair?”

“Well,” Jaemin starts slowly, and Jisung can tell he’s still having a hard time picking his words. “I can say that if I were in your shoes, I’d be happy. Not that I’m not happy with Ki, she seems very nice, I just mean it would’ve been even better had I been friends with her before.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jisung sighs. “You know me, and you know about my parents. So you know why I don’t want my soulmate. I’ve said this many times before, but there isn’t anything certain about soulmates so why should I have to spend my life with them?”

“Did you tell them that?”

“Yeah, I did. I told y/n I couldn’t see them anymore, and they then proceeded to call me selfish.” He complains.

“How so?”

“They said that by deciding that I didn’t want to meet my soulmate, I was only considering my feelings and not theirs. Which is something I decided when I was like 10, so I hardly think that qualifies as selfish. Plenty of people decide they want to meet their soulmates at 10 and they aren’t called selfish.”

Jisung can’t hide how annoyed he is. He knows he should try and explain things a bit more, or mention how you had been calm at first until he started arguing. But he didn’t want Jaemin to side with you. Even if he is wrong, which he can’t understand how he could be, he doesn’t want Jaemin to say it. He just wants someone on his side right now.

“Well that in itself isn’t selfish. Is that what they said was selfish?” “Well, no. They said I was selfish for not considering their point of view; by not giving us a try. But there is no us,” he laughs, “We’re not even dating! Why should I have to give us a try when, a, I never wanted to meet my soulmate, and b, I don’t have romantic feelings towards them right now. How is it selfish to not want to go on a date?”

“Of course it isn’t. I think they just mean it’s selfish not to look at their point of view. If y/n didn’t tell you right away, that must mean they were considering it might be fast for you and chose to wait. I think they’re just hoping you’ll do the same.”

“But why do I have to give up this thing that I’ve held so close to me since I was little. I watched my dad treat my mom like she wasn’t the person ‘made from the same star’ as he was. He acted like we were just there. Which, yeah, I guess I should be glad he never physically hurt us. Jaemin, he doesn’t care about us. And I’m worried that if I find my soulmate—who is y/n, a friend—then we’re just going to end the same way. I mean, I may not like it, but half of me is from my dad. What if the same thing that is in him, the thing that makes him not care, has passed down to me and by the time y/n realizes it, it’s too late for them to leave. So I don’t think it’s fair that y/n thinks I’m being selfish when I’ve said everything I’ve said for them. It isn’t fair.”

Jisung takes a deep breath. He hadn’t expected to talk to Jaemin about this, but he’s glad he is. While he may not be able to talk to Jaemin about everything—mostly him being bisexual—he is glad he can talk to him about soulmates. Frankly, nothing scares him more than meeting his soulmate. It made him think about his dad; made him wonder how much like him he really was.

“So this is a fear thing, you know that right?”

“Well, no, not exactly,” Jisung pauses, thinking over what he just said before sighing. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

“Okay, then I think you should tell y/n that. I imagine they would be willing to work with you on that.”

“I don’t know if I want to do that.”

Jisung can imagine he’s tilting his head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I don’t want to work through it. This particular thing has never been a problem for me until now. And it’s only a problem because it’s my soulmate. So if I just keep my distance from them—like I said I would—then I don’t have to fix myself.”

This, Jisung knows, is extremely selfish. But he doesn’t care. Why should he have to change who he is because he’s scared of one person? Why can’t he just save himself time and avoid the root of this fear?

“Jisung,” Jaemin sighs. “Do I have to tell you what’s wrong with that?”

“No, you don’t. I just don’t understand why I have to be the adult and change my whole way of thinking for this one person.”

“Y/n isn’t just a person, they’re your friend. Relationships are the same thing as friendships; you have to work together in order for them to work. Now, I don’t know everything about the situation, but from what you’ve told me and from what I’ve seen, they’ve been trying to work with you. Don’t you think it’s fair that you work with them as well?”

Jisung sighs again, bringing his hands up to rub his face. His annoyance is gone and it’s been replaced with tiredness. Jaemin has a point. “I-I know what you mean. I’m just so tired.”

“Tired? Tired of what?”

“I feel like I always have to change myself. I know it isn’t a bad thing to work on yourself, I just don’t know if I have the energy to change myself even more. This year has been so hard on me; so much has changed in my life. I’m just so tired of having to change myself.”

Jaemin hums and Jisung can imagine he’s nodding his head. “Yeah, change is hard. But if you do the work now, imagine how much better you’ll be in the future. I know this is something you’ve held onto since you were young, but at the same time, y/n has had it in their mind that they’d meet their soulmate and live happily ever after. They changed their thinking and were able to accept that it wouldn’t go the way they thought it would.”

Jisung knows he’s being selfish—now that it’s being thrown back in his face. “Alright, thank you for talking with me Jaemin. I really appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem,” Jaemin pauses, and Jisung can tell he has more to say. “And Jisung?”

He hums in response.

“It was really nice talking to you again.”

Jisung closes his eyes. “Yeah, it was nice talking. I’m sorry I’ve been so distant from you lately. Like I said, a lot has changed and it’s just been hard adjusting.”

“Well if you ever want someone to talk to about that change, I’m here for you.”

“I will, thank you Hyung.”

---

“Long time no see.”

Jisung chuckles awkwardly, looking down at his cup. “Yeah, I’m sorry it took so long for me to get back to you.”

“No, it’s okay,” you smile softly. Honestly, the three days it took for Jisung to finally message you had been filled with worry. You thought he was never going to get back to you.

“So uh, I thought about our conversation,” he starts, slowly looking up from his cup. “And I just wanted to talk some more before we … decide anything.”

You nod your head, leaning forward in your chair. “Yeah, totally. Go ahead.”

“First, I want to apologize for how I talked to you once I found out. I was hurt because you lied to me, and I was,” he pauses, shaking his head and sighing, “embarrassed you knew about me and Jaemin. So I’m sorry that I used that tone with you, and I want to know what I can do to make it up to you.”

You open your mouth to respond but nothing comes out. No one, when apologizing, had ever asked you what they could do to make it up to you. That, paired with the sincere look in his eyes, gave you butterflies, and you found yourself struggling to answer. “Um, you don’t need to do anything. The fact that you’re even asking me what you can do to make it better is enough for me. It means the world to me.”

“Okay, I’m glad,” he smiles. “But if you think of anything let me know. Now I hope you’ll be patient with me during this part. The apology part is the only thing I really prepared for, so I hope you don’t mind me rambling like an idiot.”

“No, of course not. Take your time.”

He takes a deep breath, flashing you a quick smile. “So the first thing I want to talk about is what you want from this relationship. Because you know that I’m … a little hesitant to meet my soulmate and start a romantic relationship. So where are you hoping this will go?”

“If I’m being completely honest, years down the road, I want us to be together and have a family of sorts. Whether that family is kids or dogs, cats, or hamsters, I don’t care. But I can imagine that’s scary for you, so we can take it slow if you want. We continue to stay friends until you’re ready for more.” you take a deep breath, bringing your hands up to wrap around your cup, eyes looking down into the liquid. “Or, if you can’t see yourself even being around me, I can try and get used to the idea that you truly don’t want me. But I meant what I said, I don’t want to give up on you yet. I’ll give you some space and time, and then I’ll try again.”

Jisung nods his head, an emotion you think could only be ununderstanding clouding his eyes. “And this might be weird, but you said you loved me? Do you really?”

You nod your head. “Yeah, I’ve loved you since I was little. As soon as I was able to comprehend soulmates, I knew I loved you. And when I met you, before I found out we were soulmates, I thought you were cute. The way you were so nervous about having dropped that coffee on me was precious and reminded me of myself, and it just made my day better overall. When I found out we were soulmates, it was the first day we went out—all three of us to your friend's dad’s restaurant—was so sad because you loved someone else. I still loved you though it didn’t change how I felt about you. Then once I got to actually know you, my feelings were confirmed? I don’t know, that sounds weird. I just had this faith that you would be a good person, and once I met you, I was sure I was right.”

He blinks at you. “But-but I don’t understand. And maybe it’s because I never intended to meet my soulmate, but how could you love this person you’ve never met?”

You shrug your shoulders. “I don’t think everyone thinks the way I do. I think if you asked Jaemin or Chenle if they loved their soulmate before they met them, they’d say no. It’s just a me thing. I have faith that the universe put us together for a reason, and because we’re connected, I’m going to love you. Had you turned out to be a jerk, I probably wouldn’t love you now. But you’re a nice kid, Jisung, so I still have that love for you. I hope I don’t sound too weird.”

“No, no, you don’t,” he quickly denies. “It’s just I grew up watching two people—two soulmates—not love each other. I mean, my dad didn’t even seem to care most of the time. So I grew up thinking that soulmates didn’t work out like people said they did.”

“I’m sorry, that must’ve been hard.”

“It was what it was. I mean, that isn’t something I normally tell people, but I want you to understand I’m not doing it to hurt you. So can we stay friends? I’m not saying we’ll never be together. Right now, it’s just hard for me to say that I’m ready to be my soulmate’s other half.”

For a second, neither of you says anything. You can tell he’s nervous, and you mentally applaud him for keeping his composure. “Of course, I don’t mind staying friends, Jisung. Whatever you need to do.”

He lets out a relieved sigh before he pushes himself up from his chair and walks over to awkwardly hug you. “Thank you for understanding.”

You hug him back, gently squeezing him. He’s the love of your life; what’s the rush?

—-

“Y/n will you please come to the lounge of my dorm?”

“Yeah, sure. Is everything okay? You sound off.”

“I’ll explain when you get here. I just need to talk to you about something.”

“Okay, I’m on my way. I’ll be there in like 5 minutes.”

Once the line goes dead, Jisung leans back in the chair, running a hand over his face.

Jisung isn’t sure why he called you. In the past three months since he told Jaemin about you being his soulmate, they had slowly become normal. Jisung will still get pangs of sadness now and again when thinking about Ki and Jaemin, but it’s better than before. Since he and Jaemin are okay again, why didn’t he call him? He’s who he would normally call.

“Jisung, hey. What’s wrong?” You greet as you set your bag down and sit in the chair across from him.

“My dad died.”

He watches as you freeze before you blink slowly. “I’m so sorry.”

He shrugs his shoulders, averting his eyes to look out the window. “I didn’t even know him that well, you know? And then my mom calls me crying and tells me that he died because of a drunk driver.” He takes a deep breath. “I guess I just thought one of these days, when I’m older, I’ll finally get to know why he never bothered to stay around when I was growing up. That I’ll be able to tell him how well I’m doing despite how little he was around, and he’ll tell me that he’s sorry.” Jisung chuckles, shaking his head. He can feel tears start to well behind his eyes. “If you had known him, you would know that’s so unrealistic. Just a fantasy.”

Your face softens, and you nod your head. “That’s not a dumb thing to wish for. I don’t blame you for wanting your dad to show that he loves you.”

He nods, biting his lip. “All my life, I’ve never thought of myself as lacking. My mom was all I needed, and I didn’t need a man to teach me how to be one. But now that he’s dead, it just hurts. And I don’t know why it hurts, and I think that’s why I feel as upset as I do.”

Jisung looks at you with what he can only imagine are pleading eyes. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for, he just hopes you have it.

“I’ll be honest, Jisung, I don’t know what to say. Both my parents were as loving as they could have been, despite being gone a lot. If I had to guess, though, it hurts because even if you weren’t close with your dad, he’s still half of you. He was also in your life every day.”

Jisung nods his head once before tipping his head back. Just yesterday, if you asked him about his dad, he wouldn’t have hesitated to say said he didn’t want to talk about it. He wouldn’t even feel bad saying he was a jerk.

Now that he’s dead, he doesn’t know what he can say. Of course, he isn’t going to lie and say he was a great dad, but something feels unresolved.

“I think I feel guilty,” he admits, bringing his eyes back to focus on you.

“About what?”

“I feel guilty that he died, maybe thinking I hated him.” He shuts his eyes as a few tears escape his eyes, and he quickly wipes them. “I don’t hate him.”

A silence sets over you two, and Jisung suddenly realizes how unfair it is of him to suddenly dump this on you.

“I’m sorry-“

“I didn’t know your dad,” you say, cutting him off, “so I can’t say for sure what he thought. Even if I had met him, I wouldn’t be able to say. But unless he was completely delusional, then he was able to see what a good kid you are. If he saw that, then he’d know you didn’t hate him. You should talk to your mom about it. She knows your dad better than anyone—I mean, assuming you’re not close to his parents.”

“Yeah, okay. Would you-would you come with me? When I go back home later today?”

You nod your head. “My last class ends at 2:30 pm. Can you wait until then?”

Jisung nods his head. He’s stopped crying, but he can imagine his eyes look glossed over. “Yeah. I’m not going today so I can meet you outside your class. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, let me just send you the classroom number so you remember where it is,” you respond, pulling out your phone. His eyes are drawn to your wrist and to the black line drawn across it.

He’s noticed that recently you have stopped hiding it. Before, you used to wear long sleeves or cover it with make-up. It was weird seeing the initials of his ex-girlfriend written in black across your skin. Next to the black line is the scar with Jaemin’s initials.

“I’m sorry.”

You tilt your head to the side, setting your phone on the table in front of you. “Oh, I don’t mind. I’m happy to come back with you and be there for you. You’re someone I really care about.”

“No, not that. I don’t know why I wasn’t more specific about that. I just mean, I’m sorry about the scar on your arm. From me.”

You raise your hand, twisting it around to look at the scar on the inside of your wrist. “You can’t help who you fall in love with,” you whisper, dropping your wrist. Taking a deep breath, you smile at him, hoping to show that it doesn’t bother you as much anymore. “It’s okay. The actual scar didn’t hurt for long.”

“Yeah, but I wish I weren’t this way. I mean, if I were normal, I wouldn’t draw attention to myself, and you wouldn’t have that scar on your wrist.”

“What do you mean ‘draw attention to yourself?'”

Jisung sighs, looking away from you. “I loved Jaemin, and I liked Gaewon. That’s different than normal. And since I’m that way, I’ll have to tell people, and then they’ll have it in the back of their mind whenever they talk to me that I like both men and women. That I’m bisexual.” He whispers the last part, not even wanting to say the word bisexual.

He’s never said the words “I’m bisexual” out loud before, and he never knew words could be so hard to say. He remembered when he finally decided on a label; he was so happy he almost cried. Here was this label that perfectly described what he felt, and here was this community of people who were telling the same story he was living.

After a few days, however, he found the joy slowly start to seep away. He identifies with the label, yes, but he hates it. Since he found out, he would go through different periods where he was okay with who he was and periods where he hated his label. His whole life, he has never wanted to stand out. Now though, he’ll stand out to anyone who knows. Which, right now, is one too many.

“If it’s any consolation, I’ve known about this side of you for as long as I’ve known we’re soulmates, and I’ve never thought of you any different because of it. You’re the same Park Jisung that spilled coffee on me. If I ever thought about you loving Jaemin, it was never thoughts of disgust or judgment. Maybe jealousy, but never judgment.”

He looks at you, watching your face for any hints of dishonesty. He sighs, averting his eyes. “Thank you y/n. I didn’t mean to talk about this today; I guess I got carried away on the emotion train. But I’ll see you at 2:30?”

You nod your head, smiling softly at him. “Yeah, sounds good. Call me or Jaemin if you need anything else.”

---

You glance over to the boy sitting next to you, nervously bouncing his leg. He seemed different than when you met him that morning; more nervous.

“Is everything okay?”

He glances over at you before returning his gaze to look out the subway window across from your seats. “I just haven’t been back in a long time. Don’t get me wrong, I love my mother very much. It was just too weird with him there. But it will still be just as weird. On top of that, I’m coming back home with my soulmate who I haven’t told her is my soulmate, and I feel bad lying to her. I just feel like if I tell her, there will be some kind of pressure on us to act like traditional soulmates. Which I know is something you want, so then I circle back to feeling this pressure that isn’t even there. Now I’m stress rambling.”

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “You’re okay, Jisung. Let’s take that apart point by point. No matter what you do, going back right now is going to be weird. But if you go now, it won’t be as stressful in the future; and that is something to look forward to. Now about us being soulmates. You don’t need to tell her if you don’t want to, but if you feel bad lying, just tell her the truth. And the truth is that we’re waiting for our relationship to develop more before we do anything else. You don’t need to feel bad about jumping straight into a relationship with me because you think that’s what I want to do. What I want to do is whatever you want to do.”

He sighs, ruffling his hair in what you assume to be stress. “But I’m worried you’re just saying that because you know that’s what I want to hear. You can be honest with me. I can take it.”

“I am being honest!” you laugh. “Trust me, Jisung, if I were the type of person to try and force you into a relationship, you’d know.”

He smiles. “Yeah, okay, I’m sorry. I’m letting the stress get to me.”

“Yes, yes you are.” You pat his knee.

---

“This is it,” Jisung whispers as you come to a stop outside an apartment door.

You turn your head to look at him, rubbing his arm in comfort. He sighs, shakily pressing in the code. He rests his hand on the handle, taking a deep breath before pushing the door open. “Mom, I’m back. I brought a friend with me too.”

“Jisung!” his mom laughs. She walks around the corner, wiping her eyes. “You should have told me you were bringing someone! I would’ve cleaned myself up a bit. Hi, I’m Jisung’s mom.”

You smile, bowing in greeting. “Don’t worry about it, Mrs. Park. You look just fine. My name is y/n.”

“Thank you, that’s very kind of you. But you don’t have to lie.” She smiles briefly before turning to Jisung. Her eyes start to water as soon as they meet his, and you move out of the way so she can hug him. “It’s been so long.”

“I know, mom,” he says, hugging her back. “I’m sorry it took me so long to come back.”

She pulls back, giving him an adoring smile. “Are you guys hungry? It’s around lunchtime, isn't it? Want me to make you something?”

“No, mom,” he shakes his head. “Let’s go out to eat. I imagine you need to get out of the house.”

“No, no, I’m okay,” her voice breaks, and a few more tears escape from her eyes. “Really. I’m okay.”

Your heart breaks, and you smile softly. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Park, that’s on my part. I told Jisung I wanted to take you out to eat since it’s my first time meeting you.”

“Oh no, you don’t have to do that.” She dabs at her eyes.

“But I want to! Your son and his friend are the only close friends I have, and I want to show you my gratitude for bringing him into this world. He really is an important person to me, and it’s important to tell people that you’re grateful for them.”

She blinks at you a few times, more tears streaming from her eyes. “That’s—thank you for saying that. As a mother, that is the best thing I could ever hear.”

You smile softly. “So you’ll let me take you and your son out to eat?”

She smiles, sniffling. “Yes, of course, I will. Let me go freshen up, and then we can go! Jisung, show our guest to the living room.”

He nods his head. “Yeah, right this way.”

You send his mom a smile before following him to the living room. He sits down on the blue couch across from the tv, patting the spot next to him.

“Thank you for covering for me. I didn’t know how I was going to come back from that,” he says softly, staring blankly ahead.

“No problem. And I meant what I said. I’ve been trying to let people know when I’m grateful for them, and I’d say I’m grateful you’re alive. It’s the least I can do, especially after her loss.”

“That’s all?”

You tilt your head to the side, laughing at the silly question. "What do you mean ‘that’s all?' What other reason could there be?”

He smiles, shaking his head. “Nothing, never mind.”

“Okay, weirdo.”

“You know, when I was in high school, my mom and I used to watch TV here every night while we ate dinner.”

You smile softly, looking around the room. “Really? That sounds nice.”

He nods his head. “It was. She said she wished we could do family dinners, but they made her feel awkward because it was never something her family did.”

“I get that. As someone who had family dinners whenever both my parents were home, there could be some awkward dinners. Especially after a fight.”

“Yeah, I can imagine,” he sighs. “We’ve always been so close, y/n, so why am I having such a hard time coming up with things to say to her?”

“Because this is an extremely hard thing to deal with,” you answer. “I don’t know what I’m going to say to one of my parents when the other one dies other than that I’m here for them. But I won’t be in the situation you’re in now. You have to figure out how to ask your mom about your dad. My parents may not have been around a lot either, but I know they loved me and I know the type of people they are.”

He leans his body against the couch, sliding down so his head is resetting against the top of the cushion. “When should I ask? Is right now too soon?”

“I don’t know, Jisung. Maybe you should spend some time with her and see where she’s at? But I don’t think waiting is going to help anything either. If you can spend the night, I would do that. Then you don’t have to feel like there’s any type of rush.”

"Would you,” he hesitates, turning his head to look at you. His eyes look so tired. “Would you be able to stay with me?”

You open your mouth, ready to tell him you have work early in the morning and would only make it if you left before they work up. But the longer you look at his eyes, the more you can tell he needs you. You smile softly, nodding your head. “You’re lucky tomorrow is Saturday. Let me just call into work and tell them a family member passed away.”

His eyes widen, and he pushes himself back into a sitting position. “No, you don’t have to do that for me.”

“Nonsense. You’re my family, so therefore he was my family. I’d do the same for Chenle or Jaemin, assuming they didn’t ask someone else. Well, I’d do it for Chenle whether he asks or not, I’m afraid I love him too much.”

He smiles, not breaking eye contact. You try to give him what you hope is a comforting smile, finding it hard not to let it turn into a shy smile. There wasn’t anything different about the way he was smiling at you—it always made your heart skip a beat.

Ever since Jisung told you he would be willing to take it slow with you, you have found that his smiles are more heart-fluttering, and his normal characteristics are more charming. For the first time in your life, you understand what it means to have a crush on someone.

"Okay, I'm ready to go!" Mrs. Park announces, walking into the room, digging around in her purse for something. "Where were you thinking of going?"

"Wherever your favorite restaurant is," you answer, pushing yourself off the couch.

She laughs. "Okay, how about we go to your favorite restaurant, Jisung? The Italian one?"

"Yeah!" Jisung answers, and you jump slightly at how unexpectedly close he was. "I haven't been there in forever."

"Italian it is then! Let's go."

Jisung doesn’t know what to feel.

He didn’t think he’d be able to sleep tonight. After he got the call from his mother about his dad’s death, he knew he was going to be up all night thinking about their time together and how unnecessarily mean he had been at times. Because of you, however, he had the strength to ask his mom questions he otherwise would have never asked. Because of you, he was able to hear that his father loved him the best way he knew how. That his mother had known him for a very long time, had seen his relationships with other people, and knew that his dad loved him more than anyone in the world. She showed him a box of memories his father had been saving for when he turned 21. Inside were photos of him from when he was younger.

She told him she thought he was a very sad man. She thinks he wanted to love her, but he couldn’t. She doesn’t know why, and when he asked what made her think such a thing, she just shrugged.

“I know how it looked, Jisung-ah,” she had said. “He did stay out late, he sometimes stayed out for days on end, and he felt distant from us. I know sometimes it felt like he was just this person instead of a father. Believe me, sometimes it didn’t even feel like I was married. I can’t explain it exactly, but I just got the feeling he wanted to love us but couldn’t. Maybe it was the box he made me promise to never tell you about or the new toys that would sometimes appear out of nowhere when you were a kid or the gifts that would be mailed to my office on our wedding anniversary or my birthday that makes me think this. I think he knew what was right, but he just didn’t feel those things, and I think that made it hard for him to be around us.”

While that didn’t make the past better, and he still holds a little resentment towards his dad for treating his mother so poorly, he thinks he might be able to better come to terms with his death. Even though he doesn’t know if he can say his dad was a good dad, he might be able to say he did his best.

In the end, his mom thinks his dad loved him. When he had tearfully asked her if she thought his dad thought he hated him, she told him that she doubted the thought had ever crossed his mind.

So when he set off to bed tonight, even though he wasn’t excited to share a bed with his mother—he had found out at a pretty young age that he hated sharing a bed with people—he thought he would be able to sleep tonight. That because the thoughts of his father weren’t taking up as much space in his mind as they used to, he would be okay. The thoughts of you, however, are loud enough to keep him up.

He has told himself that there can never be anything between you two because you’re soulmates. He had planned to let this continue until the end of college, where you would both go your separate ways, and he would try and let you down in a way that didn’t make you completely hate him. But lately, you’ve been turning his plan upside down.

He isn’t sure when exactly the plan started to go astray, but he does know that today was the wake-up call he needed to see things weren’t going how he planned. Maybe it was because of how emotional today was that he is suddenly feeling a strong pull towards you. He just knows that the way you helped him with his mom, the way you dropped everything to stay the night with him, and the way you constantly made him feel loved makes him want to spend every second of the day with you.

“Shit,” he whispers, quickly covering his mouth and turning his head to see if he woke his mother up.

Falling for someone has never scared him before. Granted, he doesn’t have that much experience, the two times he had done it hadn’t scared him. Sure, falling for Jaemin had been worrying at times, but it never scared him. This—you—terrified him.

He wasn’t supposed to catch feelings for you. Hell, he wasn’t even supposed to meet you. Jisung sighs, flipping onto his other side and hugging the blanket closer to himself. He focuses on the warmth of his mother next to him and on trying to hear her breathing. He’ll deal with this tomorrow.

---

“Good morning dear, y/n made breakfast.”

Jisung freezes in place, looking between you and his mom sat at the small dining table.

“There’s some food in the pan on the stove. Grab a bowl and come join us,” his mom suggests, pulling out the chair between you two and smiling up at him.

He slowly nods his head, looking between you both once again before turning around towards the pan. “What is it?”

“It’s eggs and tomato. It’s one of Chenle’s favorite dishes, and I learned how to make it the other day,” you answer. “I was told I wasn’t allowed to leave until I got the recipe down. So since I had to deal with Chenle lovingly criticizing my every move, I thought, why not try it out on you two.”

“Chenle, that’s an interesting name. Are they your soulmate?”

“No, he’s just their friend,” Jisung answers, staring down as he sets his plate on the table and takes the seat next to his mom.

He looks up as he scoots his chair closer to the table, quickly averting his eyes as he makes eye contact with you. He doesn’t miss the strange look you give him.

“Oh, okay. Sorry I assumed. I just thought that because you knew his favorite food, you must be soulmates. But thinking about it now, he could’ve also been your sibling,” his mom laughs.

“It’s okay, Mrs. Park. He and I are very compatible—sometimes it surprises me that we aren’t soulmates.”

She laughs, reaching over to pat your hand. “Well, I’m glad to hear that you have such a good friend. Jisung here has never bothered to bring the infamous Jaemin over. I have no way of knowing if my Jisung is in good hands.”

Jisung looks at his mother, holding her stare as she smiles at him. He knows she’s trying to embarrass him; she never talks like this. He squints slightly at her—he isn’t going to let her win.

You laugh, and he breaks eye contact with his mom to look over at you.

“Having met Jaemin, I can assure you he and Jisung are just as compatible as me and Chenle. He’s a great match for Jisung.”

“Well, if you’re any indication in his choice of friends, then I’m sure he’s great. It’s been a joy getting to know you, and I really appreciate you being here for my son. Speaking of,” she turns her attention away from you and looks at him, her eyes changing from teasing to sad. “I think I’m going to spend a few weeks with my mom. It’s—” she pauses, looking around the room. “It’s too hard being here.”

Jisung tilts his head to the side, setting his spoon down. “Of course, mom. Do you need me and y/n to help you pack some stuff?”

She shakes her head. “No, it’s okay. I only ask that you stay here with me until I’m done packing. I’m used to the house being quiet, but this is too much.”

You nod your head. “Yeah, of course. When you sleep in someone’s room, you get a sense of who they really are. And I have some questions for your son.”

Jisung scrunches his nose, and before he can respond in some sarcastic way, his mother interrupts him.

“I think that’s a great idea. You guys hang out, Jisung, show your friend the photo album, and then we can all leave together!”

He nods his head, smiling softly at his mom. “Okay, yeah, that’s a good idea.”

She smiles at you two before she pushes back the chair and walks to her room. Jisung lets a silence settle between you two for a second before he takes a deep breath and picks up his bowl. “Ready to go?”

You nod your head, pushing back your chair and following him to his room.

“Was the bed comfortable?”

“Yeah, thanks again for letting me take your bed.”

He nods his head, turning the knob and pushing open the door. “No problem. You’re already doing me a huge favor by staying here with me. The least I can do is let you sleep in an actual bed. Now have a seat on the bed. There was something I wanted to show you, so this is a good chance to show you.”

You nod your head, taking a seat on his bed and crossing your legs. He sets his bowl on the ground before walking over to his dresser and pulling out a photo book from the bottom drawer. He takes a seat next to you on the bed, setting the book between you two before bending forward to pick his bowl back up.

“This is my own photo album. I don’t think my mom even knows about this one.”

You tilt your head to the side. “Why doesn’t she know about it?”

He shrugs, taking a bite of his food. “I started it as a way for me to have my own album. When I was younger, I loved looking through my mom’s photo albums, and I wanted to start one for my future kids. One day, I was going through photos with her, and she threw away some photos she didn’t like. But those photos were important to me, so when she left the room, I took them from the trash and kept them here.”

“That’s sweet, Jisung.”

He shrugs. “You can look through it.”

Jisung hasn’t looked through this album in forever. Granted, when he was younger, he only ever looked through it when adding a new photo—which wasn’t often. This time, however, until this morning, he forgot he even had this album. He watches as you flip through the album, smiling at the photos of his first cat and some photos when he went to camp.

He lets his eyes drift from the album up to you. You’re smiling down at the album, commenting on how cute he was as a kid. Sitting here with you feels like something from a movie. He is sitting with you, on his bed, him finishing his breakfast and you wearing one of his shirts and pajama pants—they were technically his dad’s, but they had been put in his room a long time ago, and he never bothered to give them back—and he’s showing you something he’s never shown anyone. It feels surreal.

He puts the spoon in his mouth without any food and lets it hang there, hand still holding onto the handle. His thoughts from last night suddenly come rushing back, and he feels slightly anxious. He's falling for you, and he is slowly accepting that. But now that he's starting to accept that, he feels anxious not telling you. At the same time, the idea of telling you makes him anxious. He inwardly sighs, why is life so hard?

“Hey, Jisung,” you say, lightly touching his arm. “Is the spoon better than the food?”

He shakes his head and takes the spoon out of his mouth. “Hum? What do you mean?”

You laugh softly. “I asked you a question, and you didn’t answer. So I looked up, and you were just sitting there with a spoon in your mouth. I tried to make a joke, but I’m not very funny.”

“Oh, no, sorry. The food was great, all of Chenle’s loving nagging paid off. It’s just a thing I do when I finish my food, and I guess I got lost in thought. What was your question?”

“I was just asking who this was,” you answer, pointing to a photo.

“Oh, that’s Eunseong, one of my mom’s old friends.” He smiles down at the photo. It was a photo of him, his mom, and Eunseong looking for a Christmas tree. “He lived with us for a while.”

“Can I ask why?”

“When I was in fifth grade, my dad got transferred down to Busan for a year. Not that my dad helped all that much, but mom thought she needed more help so she invited Eunseong to live with us for a year. I think she just wanted to have someone you know? This was one of the photos she threw out.”

“What? Even though it is none of my business, why did she do that? You all look so happy.”

“Well, he felt like I did about my dad and wanted my mom to leave him. His soulmate had died, and I think he had feelings for her. Anyways, I remember there being this argument where he said that if she didn’t leave my dad, then he was done with us. They thought I was asleep, it was like five am so I was supposed to be. I remember her crying and nothing else. But the next few days he was still there and I thought it would be okay. Then, like a week before my dad came home, they got into another fight. I’m not sure what this one was about, but it was really bad. He yelled at her, and then he just left. He just left her, crouched on the floor and bawling her eyes out. I didn’t know what to say, so I just sat there with her. I decided then that I wouldn’t miss him. He came back the next day while I was at school, grabbed his stuff, and left.”

A silence settles over you two once again, eyes never leaving the photo.

“I’m sorry,” you finally say. “That sounds hard. But why would you want to keep this photo?”

“He was still part of my life. He was only with us for one year, but he actually ate with us on the couch. And while I’ve never thought I needed a constant father figure in my life, he was the closest thing I had to one. I remember that year when we were making gifts for our parents on parents day, I told the teacher I had two dads—one stepdad and one dad,” He shakes his head, trying to get his thoughts back on track, “Anyway, the point of the story was to say that while I may not have liked him at the end, he was still an important part of my life. And I think it’s important to remember him.”

“I agree with you. I think it’s important to remember even the hurtful memories. They help us grow.”

He nods his head in agreement. “I even have some of my parents' wedding photos; despite my mother hating how she looks in them. Of course, she still has some in her albums, but none of them are out to see. I think she looks beautiful in them.”

He turns the page and finds the photo of his mom and dad at their wedding. The photo he has is one of his favorites; one where his mom and dad are standing next to their parents. He always loved this photo because his mother looked so radiant. Aside from that, the idea that there was once a time his mom and dad were happy is something he’s always dreamed about. He knew, however, that the smiles in the photos weren’t one hundred percent genuine on his mother’s part. She always mentioned how stressed she was when planning it and that she was glad she never had to do it again.

“She is beautiful,” you agree.

“My dad looks so young,” he comments quietly.

“He’s very handsome. I guess you take after him.”

“No, I don’t look like either of my parents. My mom says I have his eyes, but I’ve never been able to see it.”

“Okay, be that as it may, I was just trying to compliment you on your looks and you should take the compliment.”

You laugh softly, and normally, Jisung would’ve laughed with you. This time, he just looks at you. The more he thinks about it, the more you and Jaemin have similar characteristics. You both care for him, you both have that teasing attitude (although Jaemin is more… aggressive with his actions), and you both mean the world to him. He thought that once he found out you were his soulmate, he would realize how incompatible you two are; how unfit you two are to be a couple.

Being here with you, watching as you cared for him and his mother in little ways, has made him realize how close to perfect you two could be.

“Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry if I did.”

“No, it’s not that. I just think—”

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” his mom says, poking her head into the room. “but I think I should let you two know I’ll be ready to leave soon so if you want to leave with me you might want to change now. Of course, you guys can stay after I leave, I just thought I’d let you two know.”

“Are you okay with leaving with her or do you want some more time to get ready?” He asks turning his attention back to you.

“We can leave with you, Mrs. Park. Let me just go get changed, I’ll do the dishes, and then I’ll be ready to go.”

“Oh you don’t have to do the dishes,” Jisung says.

“Nonsense. I’m the one who made the mess in a house that isn’t mine, I should be the one to clean it up,” you answer pushing yourself off the bed.

“Really, I don’t mind. You cooked us food. Plus you’re my guest, what kind of a host would I be if I let you do more than you already have?”

“Park Jisung,” you say, not turning to look at him as you bend to pick up your folded pile of clothes. “If you don’t let me do these dishes, I will get your roommate to lock you out of your dorm for a week, leaving you cold and sad.”

“You do that and I’ll get Jaemin Hyung to—”

“Oh, you’ll get him to do what?”

“Well, if you’d let me finish, I’d be able to tell you now wouldn’t I?”

“Like you have it in your heart to hurt me.”

He rolls his eyes, a small smile breaking out. “Okay one, I never said I’d hurt you. And two, right now it isn’t hard to imagine causing you a small inconvenience.”

“Did you hear that Mrs. Park? Your son is threatening me,” you walk towards his mom, stopping once you’re next to her.

His mom laughs, shaking her head slightly. “My my Jisung, how college has changed you. That is no way to treat a friend.”

“That’s low l/n, telling on me to my mom.”

You wink at him over your shoulder. “I’m here to win, Park.”

Before he can get another word in, you’re already walking towards the bathroom.

“I’m glad you have a friend like that,” his mom says softly.

“Yeah, me too.” He turns his attention away from the last place you where to his mother. “Hey mom?”

“Yeah hun?”

“I- uh,” he starts hesitantly, rubbing his hands together nervously. “Can you come here a sec? And could you close the door? I want to talk to you privately.”

“Yeah, of course,” she answers, quickly closing the door and taking your spot on the bed. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing’s wrong. I just—I just want to thank you. You’ve always been there for me, and I want you to know that I appreciate it.”

“You don’t need to thank me, I’m just doing my job as a mother. Is that all you needed to talk to me about?” She asks, worry lacing her tone.

“No, not exactly. I, um, I met my soulmate.”

He looks up from his hands in time to see his mother’s eyes widen and she excitedly pulls him into a hug. “Oh my gosh Jisung! That’s great, I’m so excited for you.”

He hugs her “Yeah, it’s been something.”

His mom pulls away, a bright smile spread across her face. “I always thought you didn’t know what your mark was; what’s your mark? Tell me about her.”

“It’s the tally mark one. See?” He turns his wrist out so she can see the black tally mark spread across his skin. She grabs his wrist, lightly tracing over the black line. “But before I tell you about my soulmate, I have a few things I want to talk about.”

“Sure, go for it.”

“If I— if my—” he takes a deep breath, “Sorry, I’m kind of nervous.”

“No it’s okay baby, take your time. But I am kind of worried, is there anything wrong?”

“No no, nothing is wrong. Well, hopefully not anyways. If my soulmate were a... if they were a boy how would you feel?”

His mom freezes, and he quickly averts his eyes to his hands. I can’t believe I said that, I should have waited to tell her. God, what am I thinking?

“Is your soulmate a boy?” She asks hesitantly.

“I—just if they were, what would you feel? If I dated someone or liked someone who was a man, what would you say?”

“I don’t know Jisung, I’ve never thought about it,” she takes a deep breath, and he can tell she isn’t any less relaxed. “If I’m being honest, because you know how I feel about beating around the bush, it would make me slightly uncomfortable. But it’s not because I have anything against your soulmate being a man, I would prefer them to be a woman, it’s just because it’s different. Different is hard. But who you date or who your soulmate is won’t change the fact that you’re my son and I love you with my whole heart. I would die for you, Jisung, and while I might find it uncomfortable at first I could get over it.”

Jisung looks up at his mom, feeling his eyes well with tears. “Do you mean that? You really wouldn’t care?”

She nods her head self-assured. “Like I said, I would prefer it if it were a woman, but we can’t help who our soulmates are. If they just so happen to be a man, I’ll get over my hesitance towards it. But I don’t want you to worry about what I think, Jisung. You just need to live your life however that is.”

He feels a few tears escape his eyes. “I—thank you. Thank you.”

Jisung never knew how much of a weight this question had been bearing on him. While the answer isn’t exactly an ideal answer, it is still better than what he feared she would say. The fact that his mother is willing to change for him is good enough.

“Now,” his mom smiles, patting his knee. “Why don’t you go get changed and then we can leave together? It was an emotional day yesterday, and I think we both need to leave this house.”

Jisung nods his head, smiling weakly at his mother as she walks out the room. Jisung spent a lot of time in the house alone, so he is used to the house being quiet. His mom is right, though, now that his father is dead, the house is too quiet. He hasn’t been left alone since he got here, but now that he’s sitting alone in his room he understands what his mother was talking about. Even though his dad wasn’t around much, it still felt weird being in the house knowing his dad wasn’t going to be coming through the door ever again, no matter how late.

Taking a deep breath, he pushes himself off the bed and walks towards the closet. Pulling open the middle drawer, he looks down at the cloths inside. He hasn’t worn these clothes since he left for college. They are mostly the clothes his father had given him before he left.

It was when he had been away on a business trip for a week in Buyeo and he came home with three pairs of jeans and two shirts. It is the proudest he can remember his dad being of him. Even if he had tried to pass it off as his mom had told him that Jisung was running out of good clothes to wear and if he passed any clothing stores to get something. The fact that he even got him a congratulatory gift for getting into college had made Jisung falter.

“The one nice thing I know he actually did for me, and I never even showed him I appreciated it,” he whispers, smiling sadly as he pulls one of the shirts and one of the pants out of the drawer.

“I really want to thank you,” he hears his mom say as he leaves his room. “It means a lot to me that you’re here for my son.”

“Jisung is someone really important to me, Mrs. Park. You did a good job with him.”

“I don’t know what Jisung has told you about my husband, but he helped a little too. I think him being as… absent as he was really helped shape him into the person he is today.”

He leans against his door, listening to his mom talk. They have never really talked about his dad much, other than the few times he asked his mom why she stayed. It was new hearing her talk about him like this.

“Well, you and Mr. Park did an amazing job raising your son. Like I said, he’s an amazing person and someone who means a lot to me and Jaemin.”

“Yeah, yeah we did a good job didn’t we?”

---

“Will you come get some coffee or something with me?” Jisung asks, nervously messing with his hands behind his back.

“Sure! So long as it isn’t the place I work. I’m supposed to be grieving with family,” you answer, smiling brightly at him.

“Before we met you, there was a favorite place me and Jaemin Hyung loved to go. Let’s go there!”

You nod once, linking your arm with his and following him as he leads you down the street.

Jisung feels his heart skip a beat and he smiles to himself. After his talk with his mom, he feels like he can do anything. He had plans to talk to you today no matter what, but knowing his mom was accepting of who he was helped him feel more confident. As Jaemin would remind him constantly, confidence is key.

It didn’t take long for you to get to the shop from the bus station. When he enters the shop, he looks around in wonder. It had been a year since he had been here and it still looks the same. Along with his mom accepting him, it helped to be in a place he was comfortable with.

“What do you want to drink? I’m paying,” he offers as you’re both staring at the menu.

“You don’t have to do that Jisung,” you answer slowly, still reading the menu. “I can pay for myself.”

“Nonsense, you paid for our dinner last night, this is on me.”

“If you’re sure,” you answer hesitantly. “I’ll order, and then I’ll go get us a table.”

“It’s nice out, why don’t we sit outside?”.

You raise your hand to flash him an okay sign before walking up to the register and ordering. He watches as you smile at the cashier, nodding your head once before you turn towards the left and out the side door towards the outside seating.

“God, today feels so long,” you sigh, leaning over the back of the chair and stretching your arms out.

Jisung chuckles. “Yeah, and it’s only one in the afternoon.”

“When I get back to my dorm, I’m just going to lounge.”

“That sounds like a good plan. Hey y/n,”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Yeah?”

“I’m feeling really good right now. Well, let me rephrase that. It’s been an emotional few days. And in those few days, you have been there for me. These past few days, my dad has died, I talked to my mom to try and figure out the mess that is my relationship with my father, and then I talked to my mother about her feelings on me dating a man. So overall, I’ve been all over the place the past two days.” He laughs and you laugh nervously with him. “My point is, you’ve been there for me. You’ve been there for me despite how complicated I made our relationship, however many weeks ago.”

You awkwardly laugh, and Jisung worries he’s made you uncomfortable. “You don’t need to thank me, Jisung. That’s what friends are for.”

“Um yeah, but we’re not friends. We’re soulmates.”

Your face drops. “I tried to take things slow. I’m so sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I’ve been trying to keep things normal. I’m so sorry.”

“Are you done?” Jisung asks, trying to smile comfortingly despite how much he was freaking out on the inside.

“Yeah, yeah I’m done. Just know that I’m so sorry if I forced this whole soulmate thing on you.”

“Okay, first of all, you should be able to see that I’m trying to tell you how grateful I am for you. Did you miss the part at the beginning where I told you how you’ve been there for me?”

“I thought that was a way of you saying ‘you overstepped your boundaries as my soulmate being just a friend’ and that you needed space from me,” you answer quietly.

“You shouldn’t think so much,” he chuckles. “I said what I said to show you that I’m thankful for what you’ve done for me and my family.”

“Oh, well like I said, it’s what friends are for.”

“And like I said, we’re not friends; we’re soulmates.”

“See, that right there,” you point a finger at him, shaking it slightly, “This is what confused me. What is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, we’re soulmates. That’s what the tally marks on our wrist mean.”

You blink at him. “I’m aware of that, Jisung.”

“And you’ll have to forgive me, because I know I’ve been going about this all wrong but I’m really nervous right now.” He clears his throat, smiling nervously. “What I was trying to say is that you’ve been there for me the past two days. Had this happened five months ago, Jaemin Hyung would have been the one in your place. I’ll be honest, at first, I wasn’t sure why I even called you. I mean yeah, things with Hyung haven’t been the easiest since he found his soulmate, but he’s still someone I find comfort in; he’s my best friend. But since I spent this time with you, you have shown me how much you love me. Let me just say, it’s nice knowing someone loves me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted; someone besides my mom to love me unconditionally.”

“How do you know I love you unconditionally?” You joke, but he can see it in your eyes that you’re nervous.

“Well I guess you never said those words specifically. But you said you’ve loved me since you were a kid, and that just makes me feel warm inside. I think I should chase that feeling.”

“Jisung I’m still not understanding.”

“I’m saying, I think I want to try being soulmates.”

Your eyes widen, and he can tell you’re fighting back a smile. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to be caught up in everything that’s happened and just tell me what you think I want to hear. I don’t want you to regret this.”

“I won’t regret this, y/n. The only reason I didn’t ask you sooner is because you’re my soulmate. I held you to this standard that we would be an unfit match together, and thankfully you failed to meet that standard. I think we would be a good fit.”

Jisung watches a wide smile spread across your face. “Jisung I promise you you’re not going to regret this. We’ll go as slow as you want to and you let me know anytime I make you uncomfortable. This—thank you Jisung, thank you so much.”

He mirrors your smile. He knew you were going to agree to this, but there was still that underlying fear that you’d reject him. “I know, trust me I know. I want to thank you once again for being patient with me. I know I’ve probably been taking this slower that you would’ve liked, but you have been so understanding of me. Even when I was being selfish.”

“Well, all you needed was for me to point out your self centeredness and you snapped right out of it,” you respond, leaning back in your chair.

He smiles, nodding in agreement. “Yeah yeah, you were right. But look where we are now! We’re able to sit here and have a nice cup of drink.”

You laugh loudly, a sweet smile still spread across your face. “Yes, we are having a nice cup of drink. Nicely put Park.”

“Thank you thank you, Korean is my first language” he tips his head slightly as a bow. “You know,” he starts slowly, averting his eyes to look down at his cup he has yet to take a drink from. “If you are having a good time, this could be our first date?”

When you don’t answer right away, he looks up at you. “Or, don’t be afraid to say no. I didn’t even ask you. Not that it has to be me who asks for the first date, I just thought that since we’re waiting on me to be ready, I should be the one to ask.”

Laughing, you cover your mouth with your hand. “I am so happy right now even your rambling is cute.”

“You should move your hand away from your mouth when you speak, it isn’t very polite.”

“Awww, look at you,” you coo, leaning forward onto the table. “You’re embarrassed. You're clenching and unclenching your fist and you won’t look me in the eye. You’re so cute.”

“I can take back my offer, you know. I’m not afraid to take back my offer, and leave you here,” he threatens. He knows you don’t take him seriously, based on the euphoric smile plastered on your face. That, and the fact his words hold no truth to them. You have him pegged.

“Oh come on,” you whine. “The date has already started, you can’t back out now Park.”

“Oh, so you are agreeing to this being a date?” He cringes slightly at how excited his voice sounds.

“Of course I am! Jisung, I’ve been waiting for this moment since I was little. So sitting here, with my wonderful soulmate who bought me a nice cup of drink, why wouldn’t I say yes?”

He nods his head once, smiling widely. “I um, wow I’ll be honest I thought you were going to say no. I had plans to take you to dinner or something.”

“You can still take me to dinner, can’t say I’d complain.”

“Yeah, but I have to keep the bar low. If I start at the top,” he brings his right hand up a few inches above the table, “then I can only go down. But if I start here,” he brings his left hand up and dramatically sets it on the table, almost spilling his drink, “then I can only go up.”

“Ah, good plan, good plan. Do tell, what comes next from here?”

“I’m thinking a few convenience store runs, maybe a trip to the zoo or something. We got to slowly build our way up, you know?”

You nod your head thoughtfully. “Yeah okay, that sounds smart. I mean, it’s not like we’re soulmates or anything so why try and impress me right?”

He snaps his fingers, pointing at you. “See, look at you go, you smart little thing.”

You roll your eyes, picking up your drink and blowing softly on it. He shakes his head, smiling softly.

“Hey y/n?”

“Hm?” you hum, finally taking a sip of your drink.

“I think we’re going to be really happy.”

You bite your lip, smiling as you set your cup down. “Yeah, yeah I think so too.”

---

Okay! Sorry for how weird this was posted, I’m the slowest reader alive so it took me forever to do the final read through. Thank you yo @jiwvnie for reading more than I told her she had to, I truly appreciate her. I have always wanted to write a soulmate au so I would love to know what you thought of this.

Have a great day/night!!

Masterlist

#nct-writers #nct jisung #park jisung x reader #nct dream x gender neutral reader #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct dream x reader #na jaemin #NCT #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios

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maddiviner · 3 years

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It’s time for some juicy cryptid gossip!

Everyone has heard of Bigfoot, but what is it, really? A flesh and blood ape, or something even weirder? Today, we’ll be looking at Bigfoot and related concepts.

I wanted to interview Bigfoot himself, but ultimately decided it would be easier and less dangerous just to interview noted Fortean author Josh Cutchin.

Cutchin’s new two-part book series, Where the Footprints End focuses on Bigfoot and some of the weirder phenomena that tend to pop up surrounding this strange and hypothetical critter. This interview features discussion of Bigfoot as well as other interesting phenomena, usually known under the collective heading of High Strangeness...

Eliza: “There’s a lot of people who read my blog and other esoteric sites who really want to experience High Strangeness. There’s running jokes about going out into the forest wearing a red coat and picking berries in mysterious areas, in an attempt to encounter something. Mostly, this is just a joke, but a few people are quite serious about wanting to experience an encounter. Do you believe it is possible (or advisable) to go looking for that kind of encounter?”

Josh Cutchin: “It’s absolutely possible to seek these things out, and probably easier than a lot of us imagine. There are a few different approaches, mostly seeking out locales or altered states of consciousness. A good week’s worth of overnight stays at any ‘haunted’ location will probably yield some good stories, at the very least… then there’re occult disciplines, which I won’t delve into, that seem to have pretty striking results. While not necessarily endorsing it, a healthy dose of psychedelics will induce an altered state of consciousness as well, one which may have residual paranormal effects beyond whatever you encounter on your ‘trip.’

Advisable? That’s another topic entirely. Jeff Ritzmann—who sadly passed away a few days ago—had a method he viewed as successful for contacting the paranormal, but also highly volatile. On its simplest level, his technique involved meditating in any semi-isolated location (you can learn more from his November 2017 interview on Greg Bishop’s Radio Misterioso). Jeff always stressed two things: one, that the contact would come in whatever form you didn’t expect; and two, that this Other, whatever it is, wants that which is stable in your life, that which you value, and you should be prepared to lose relationships, finances, even loved ones.

It’s a sobering proposition.”

Eliza: “In the book, you talk about lures for Bigfoot. You mention that some people leave out gifts for him, often with disastrous consequences. As you mention in many of your books (A Trojan Feast, Thieves in the Night), giving gifts to these sort of entities seems to have a lot of significance and unintended results. What do you think is the root of the gifting fascination with these critters, regardless of what they are?”

Josh Cutchin: “If I had to hazard a guess, it all ties back to man’s earliest attempts to appeal to divine intervention, of burnt offerings and sacrifices. Offering consumables—food, drink, tobacco, et cetera—is a universally-held means of breaching whatever barrier separates us from the gods, the dead, and the spirit world. A direct line of belief can be traced from these older practices to things all of us do, even those not involved in the paranormal… take, for example, leaving cookies out for Santa Claus, or ‘pouring one out’ for a dead friend.”

Eliza: “Do you think that the various phenomenon described in your book, from the classical Bigfoot sightings, to the strange lights, and voices heard in the wilderness could all have the same cause? Or, do you hold the view that we’re dealing with different things that coincide?”

Josh Cutchin: “Some days, I think these topics are separate but overlap in significant ways. Others, I’m convinced they’re all the same thing, wearing different masks. My coauthor Timothy Renner said it elegantly: ‘Bigfoot may be the rarest and most sophisticated version of whatever this phenomenon is.’ I might take that one step further and posit anomalous lights—which are found in every paranormal topic—are the most common, simplest version of whatever the phenomenon is. Truth be told, that may be as close to ‘an answer’ as we get.”

Eliza: “From your books, I learned the difference between the usual “flesh and blood hypothesis” (F&BH) about Bigfoot, versus other perspectives. For readers who are unaware, there’s something of a debate whether Bigfoot is a physical animal, or… something else. Throughout both book, though, I couldn’t help but feel that you believe the evidence points away from F&BH. Would that be accurate to say?”

Josh Cutchin: “I’ve often said that every other discipline of paranormal study has ‘Bigfoot Envy,’ that there is more physical evidence for the existence of bigfoot than anything else in the paranormal. We have immaculately detailed footprints, alleged hair, blood, even droppings. All of it points firmly to a large, undiscovered primate…

… until you start listening to eyewitness accounts. Not every time, but certainly a lot of times there are anomalies that cannot be accounted for from a Materialist/Physicalist perspective, no matter how hard one works backwards from their preferred conclusion. Even some cases cryptozoologists like to cite as supporting the F&BH (like the Fred Beck ‘Ape Canyon’ events) contain outliers like poltergeist activity, abruptly ending trackways, et cetera. The supernatural seems at odds with the physical evidence until one considers that things like psi effects and ghosts—two phenomena we would all agree, if they exist, are intangible—can leave physical changes on our world.

If bigfoot are indeed flesh-and-blood creatures, they are, as Timothy says, ‘masters of evolution,’ with several abilities no other creature on Earth possesses!”

Eliza: “I enjoyed reading the accounts in the second volume of Where the Footprints End, but found much of it unsettling. Do you think that fear is a normal human reaction to High Strangeness, or something more related to existing societal views? I ask this because there’s been some debate amongst my friends about this. Also, many of my readers pride themselves in being comfortable with all kinds of strange things, but that might not well be the initial reaction in many cases.”

Josh Cutchin: “I think it’s probably like swimming with sharks. It’s natural to be terrified of one. Doesn’t mean it’ll harm you (though it certainly could). It’s a natural reaction, and it exists for a reason, for self-preservation. Over time you can desensitize yourself from that fear, maybe even handle the darn things… but there’s always a risk it could hurt or kill you.

I think the shark metaphor is apt, because—while there are undoubtedly a lot of evilly-aligned forces out there—I think most paranormal things are neutral, maybe even disinterested in us, but dangerous by nature. Like sharks!”

Eliza: “Can you imagine a time, in the the future, perhaps, when these sort of things are, in fact, understood by humanity? Do you think we’ll ever figure it out, so to speak? Someday, will Bigfoot and other High Strangeness phenomenon be explainable? Or, perhaps, are these things always going to elude us in their exact nature?

Josh Cutchin: “I think there’s the chance they’ll be accepted, but never understood. I think we’re already on the road to accepting the existence of the paranormal (or, should I more accurately say, re-accepting, since we obviously respected them in our past). But I think the ‘understanding’ part is why they’ve always seemed mysterious, and I think that may well be the part. The paranormal is a birthright for every human being, and an important component of our existence… but we were never meant to understand it. Not in the plane of existence, at least.”

Thanks so much for this interview, Josh! Your work is thought-provoking and as fascinating as it is unsettling!

I think I speak for everyone when I say that this interview helped me to understand High Strangeness and how it relates to other paranormal topics. If you’ve got an interest in the paranormal or High Strangeness, I definitely recommend checking out Cutchin’s books here.

Both volumes of Where the Footprints End are now available in ebook and print. Cutchin has also written books on other, non-Bigfoot aspects of these phenomena. These include Thieves in the Night, a look at supernatural abduction legends, Trojan Feast (about food in High Strangeness encounters) and The Brimstone Deceit (focused on scents and the paranormal).

So, thoughts, everyone? Have you experienced High Strangeness in your lifetime? Do you WANT to experience it? Does it frighten you? My views are mixed...

#witchblr #cryptid #cryptidcore #bigfoot #aliens #faerie #occult #paranormal #high strangeness #eliza.txt #eliza reads #fae #fairy #fairyland #ufo #extraterrestrial #encounters

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cipher-fresh · 3 years

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Just Out Of Reach

Posting on tumblr due to Discord's character limit, this one's a lot longer than my other ones. A prompt from @marlinspirkhall about how food on the holodeck doesn't exist once you step off it got me thinking. TW for violence, injury, blood, food, eating disorders I think (?? rather safe than sorry) and long-term distress. Thank you for the Federation gothic prompt!

It's fuzzy, you remember the ship leaving spacedock after repairs, and some of the anticipatory silence as the odd lack of Dominion ships greeted your rush toward the Bajoran sector to help recapture Deep Space Nine and the Bajoran wormhole. You had never been this far away from home, but you'd tried to steel yourself. The red alert had blared in your ears, and you don't remember much else. You look down. You're bleeding. You curse, and look around for medical supplies.

You're in a dark building, with debris strewn around. A force field makes it's presence known as a hurtling piece of Dominion ship tailwing is stopped in it's tracks from perhaps it's original destiny of destroying wherever you were. If there was a forcefield up, there must be an energy source. You find you had crash-landed here, as there's an escape pod near the fallen bulkheads. You saddle up with the materials from the escape pod, and hunt around for any available resources on whatever man-made, oxygenated building you'd been lucky enough to land in. You put your bag down, and take off your Starfleet outer shirt. You're still wearing the gray undershirt, and over it you tie the main shirt over the wound. You wish it had been an easier area to tie, like your lower leg, and press on. After a trek over fallen metal, everything from large carts, a whole shuttle, bulkheads and PADDs, you find the opposite wall, marked with a plaque designating it the Miyamoto, a mini-space station hardly the size of a neighborhood street. Some place, you scoff. It feels like a shadowy castle fallen into disrepair, with the flickering lights looking like the occasional sunbeam brightening it. Atmospheric, at least, if it wasn't going to comfortable. It feels as if you could almost hear sad music, accentuating just quite how dark the station was, cold and alone. The Miyamoto station echoes sadly, the destruction and carnage of Dominion and Federation ships making their final stand above the station feeling long off, although you could place it as happening mere hours ago. Continuing onward, you clear a path the best you can of the debris on the ground, in case you round this area again.

You see places that look like shops- the *Miyamoto*, as per it's informational plaque, was a station commissioned and controlled by Starfleet, but it had housed many Federation-aligned planets, that is to say, planets that hadn't joined the Federation for one reason or another, but remained in contact with it, politically or economically. Your journey around the station ends as you look back down at your outer shirt, wrapped around your torso wound, and it's too red with blood for comfort. You take an unfortunate, seething inhale, processing what this might mean. You have no other than the most basic medical supplies on your bag, and you're alone on a mini-space station with debris that was ripe to fall over and crush you at any time. Nobody else seems to have crashed near you. You're alone, on an at least semi-functioning, mini-space station. And you were determined to survive. The bleeding cut on your torso should be dealt with first. Can't look for food or set up a distress call if you're bleeding to death. You take a tricorder from the bag, and scan around for anything useful. It picks up gauze a few meters ahead of you. Better than your shirt, certainly. You navigate toward it with the tricorder's map, and it navigates you to a holodeck, you recognize from the doors. Gauze in the holodeck? You thought the violin music had been a symptom of a bleeding body and the brain processing your day, but no, the violin was louder. Getting closer to the holodeck, that made more sense. It was extremely lucky the program was still running. You walk inside. The inside is a gothic, turn-of-the-century sort of laboratory. Indeed, a holodeck character playing a violin spots you, and huffs.

"You're bleeding. Are you looking for my partner, Dr. Watson?"

You take a moment- oh, this was a Sherlock Holmes program. You doubt Dr. Watson could help you, but then you take a moment to think. Emergency Medical Holograms are just as holographic as Dr. Watson here, and they have helped millions of people. You're too tired to act, so you ask him, "Yes, I need a doctor. Can you get him?" Too much also eating at your mind to enjoy the program, Dr. Watson fixes you up in the flat. You wince at the old medical technology, and wish the two of them lived in a period of time with more current medicinal knowledge. - Wait. "Computer?" you say. "Change the time period to, uh, 22nd century. No, I mean, to today. 24th century. Keep Sherlock and Watson with me." The computer responds to your request, and you see the program change around you. You laugh at the mystery-solving duo's updated outfits for the 24th century, then look back at Dr. Watson. It's a little jarring how seamlessly they continue from the jump in time, but better that than their program stop working. Watson asks a replicator- a holographic replicator, which makes you laugh a little bit, for a dermal regenerator, and you get patched up. "Stick around for a cup of tea?" Watson asks. "Sherlock really wants to know why you broke into our flat." You consider it. You've heard jokes from non-Federation species when trying out holodecks for the first time, "Calories don't count on the holodeck!" Anything you eat here wouldn't sustain you, the minute you left the holodeck. You could activate this program so long as there was energy to the station, but food was a priority. Assuming the *Miyamoto* had been in a tussle just a few hours ago during your fly-over to Deep Space Nine, now was a crucial time to find genuine replicators before they went offline. You leave the holodeck. You see the gauze over your injury (kept for good measure) disappear as you exit the holodeck, but not the skin you'd grown back from the dermal regenerator. The gauze was holographic, but the stimulated skin cells and tissues were not. You follow the path set by rounding around the small, circular station, and tracing your steps back through the cleared path you made. Your injury healed, you could now look around and find something to eat. You follow around a downloaded map of the *Miyamoto* from the plaque's infochip, and hunt down all the replicators marked on the station. One by one, they're all broken, in pieces, or missing. Maybe the station was in poor shape to begin with. You take another trip around- at least you're getting plenty of exercise in, you halfheartedly cheer- and visit all the food shops. You raid the fridges, cabinets and cupboards, and still find nothing. Intending to not be disheartened, you sit down for a moment. Your hunger is suddenly made aware to you, your vision swirling. Not good, you decide. Your stomach hurts, and you try to remember the last time you ate. Breakfast on- on the *USS Halay*. Maybe tea with Dr. Watson wouldn't be so bad, you assure yourself. You have some food with the two of them, think of a new plan, then go back out there and find some food. Some water, while you're at it, too. You walk back, and almost trip over debris you swore you moved out of your path. You enter back to the holodeck, and smell the fresh air. You find Watson and Sherlock again, and you're offered a pastry you can't remember the name of. You eat, and have some tea, and you feel at peace. You're still directly aware of the stakes, you're stuck on a space station in the middle of nowhere, but you're at least still alive. And going from desperately hungry out there to the sweet scent of buttered pastries in here in a still-peaceful London before the Dominion invaded was a sense of home you'd missed. You sat down, and considered your optics. If you left now, you'd probably be just as hungry as before, but here, you could come up with a plan, and make the time before it worth it. You clued in the holographic Sherlock and Watson into it, without exposing to them they were holograms. Quite tricky, it was, but you were glad they got over

their suspicions and were just willing to help. You and the two problem-solvers looked over the schematics of the *Miyamoto*, and found from your walkaround of the station, the replicator at the Bolarian food shop was the least broken- it had gotten halfway to forming bread before it puttered out. Although not quite a chief engineer, this seemed to be your only option. You picked back up your supplies from the escape pod that you'd kept with you, and journey off to the replicator. You feel the distinct hunger pangs as soon as you leave, and almost regret leaving. Little matter. You'd already gone and done it, you might as well make it worthwhile. You get to the replicator, and try to recall your engineering training. Basic engineering design over necessary machines like replicators and transporters were required classes at the Academy, and you couldn't remember a thing from it. You open a hatch at the back and fiddle with some of the wires and steel EPS hubcaps, and put everything back into place. Not ever quite sure what to do, you feel a fog in your brain, you know you're putting a square peg in a round hole as you try to fix this. You screw things on and off, scan it, flip a switch. Closing the hatch, you hit it for good measure, and try replicating food again. It produces a gray slop of what could only technically be edible, organic material. You take your tricorder out and get a holo-scan of it. A moment of darkness in your vision, you fall to the ground. You're really feeling it. You hold a hand to your stomach, and close your eyes tight. It hurts, it does. You could make the feeling go away, if you just went back.

A deep breath, and you turned around. Just back for a second.

Desperate to get back to the holodeck, you're assured you can figure out the replicator's problem with the holo-imager scans. You get back inside, and feel the pleasant, clean air, and walk back inside. Ravenously, you scarf down the food given to you, and you can feel your mind finding clarity again. If you could find a way to fix the replicator while inside the holodeck, you'd be set. You could fix it there, and only be hungry from the minute you walked over to the replicator, no brain fog as you tried to fix it. Maybe engineers had "Don't fix things on an empty stomach" as a rule. If not, they should. You spend a few more hours there, going over the specs of the replicator, sitting in the nice flat. It's an amalgamation of every depiction of 221B ever put to screen, and all the books are real, wholly scripted ones. You chuckle, certainly sure only a man of fiction could read so many books, bookshelves stacked wall to wall. Many of them had frantically scribbled notes and writings in them. After some time, you fall asleep. You're woken up by Watson, telling you again that you need to wake up. You rub your eyes, and consider everything from the day previous. Hungry, stuck on a space station with no food, and surviving in the holodeck. This would be a lovely nightmare to wake up from, eh? Lovely, for the fact you're waking up, you joke. "-get out there and find something to eat or your body will starve. Please. The program-" You burst out from under the blanket on the couch. Dr. Watson looks at you. "Sherlock and I put together that you're on a holodeck. Incredible inventions, truthfully, but what is more important now is your life. You haven't eaten in how long? A human would starve after not eating for-"

"About a week. But without water is a different story. Three days, at most." Sherlock filled in. You swallowed. Wonderful. You look back at Watson. "Please, we're trying to help you. You need to head back out there." That's the last thing you want to do.

Neither of them were being helpful. "Look, we can't leave the holodeck. All we can do is-" "I don't care!" you yell. "I'll just-stay in here until I figure it out." The two exchanged looks with each other. Watson got closer to you. You feel small. Threatened. "You're Starfleet, right? You haven't even given us your name. How about you-" You lash out. "Computer, delete characters Sherlock and Watson." "Not possible." "Fine! Delete whatever you need to get rid of them." "Confirmed." the computer says. The two of them phase out of existence. You breathe heavily. You hope they won't be mad at you. "Computer, change scenery. Somewhere on Earth. As far away from Sherlock as possible." "Changing location to Dunedin, New Zealand." the computer replied. You stop, and catch your breath. You'd just- stay in here. For a while. Yeah.

The systems of the Miyamoto station degrade. The holodeck, over time, begins to lose critical imaging projectors. One corner of the holodeck shows the depressingly bare and black wall, the whole program not covering the entire room. You try not to mind. You sleep. If you could just- just learn how to fix the replicator....no. You have everything you need right in here. Everything....you need. You take an arduous breath. The holodeck doors have sealed shut. The imagers have stopped working. You're trapped inside. A lone Starfleet officer starves to death on a holodeck, over an agonizing three days, just as Sherlock predicted. The Miyamoto station is destroyed by the Breen a year later, unimportant and completely alone. If one listened closely, passing an unimportant, tiny little station, they may have heard faint music of a violin.

#star trek #my writing #federation gothic #uss lilac #blood #dominion war #ds9 #wasn't planning to add sherlock holmes to the mix but when I had the injury and the violin i couldn't resist

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sugasimply · 4 years

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𝙱𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝙴𝚙.𝟸 | 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙰𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚝

✦ Mafia!AU

✦ OT8 x Reader

✦ 21+ Series

✦ Warnings: Smut, cursing, creampie, wax play, very slight mention of drugs(pharmaceutical)

✦ Word Count: 4.1k

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Your night with Hongjoong passed without a hitch. And when you woke up next, checking his side of the bed, he was gone.

You assumed a mission or meeting had come to pull him away while you were deep asleep. Seeing as a shipment of guns were stolen, you guessed he wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.

Tossing the blankets that covered your body, you groggily get up and do your usual morning stretches. The nights’ previous positions left your body aching for relief, especially, your poor neck.

Moving your neck caused quite a bit of uncomfortable pain, so deciding to get dressed and grab some good old painkillers was your best option. Today was a free day after all.

If Hongjoong was gone, the other boys were gone as well. That’s how it works with them usually, meaning you were completely alone to do anything you pleased.

Well...semi alone.

Although all the boys were gone, the guards stationed outside, and inside the house were not. This is still a mafias mansion after all. They’d be fools not to have or leave an extensive amount of security.

The only privacy you held was found in the bedrooms and bathrooms. At first, it was quite bothersome and prison-like to have people watch over your every move, but over time, you’ve gotten so used to it that you sometimes forget they’re there.

They are there to protect you and your lovers after all, so you can’t really complain.

Descending the staircase, you greet the guards stationed at the bottom with a small smile and hello. Today, they oddly did not greet you back like usual, only a curt nod and blushed cheeks were returned.

weird, you thought to yourself, making a beeline towards the kitchen- it was probably nothing, right?

Your mood drastically picked up at the thought of a nice quiet day alone to yourself. The boys weren’t always gone, and it’s not that you wanted them gone, but silence was a luxury in this house.

Swinging the kitchen door open, you start to hum a joyous tune, thinking of the relaxing day ahead and basking in the enjoyment of a boy fre-

…….

“Hey, Y/n,” Seonghwa greets casually from where he was seated by the kitchen counter before taking another bite of his cereal like he didn’t just shatter your whole entire day.

Dumbfounded, you stand at the entrance of the kitchen contemplating your plan to get away with murder. You could quietly strangle seonghwa or lure him to the woods and-

“Y/n?”

Snapping out of your premeditated murderous thoughts, you awkwardly walk over to the other side of the kitchen counter and look at Seonghwa confusingly.

“Umm Hwa, don’t get me wrong I like that you’re here, but why are you here?” you inquire, trying not to sound rude.

Seonghwa looks up at you with a confused expression as well, but he quickly realizes why you were asking that “Ah my services weren’t needed, so I decided to stay home all day with you,” he shrugs

You stare at him enthralled, “maybe the woods wouldn’t be the worst option.”

“Huh, what about the woods?”

“Nothing!” you dismiss, going back to the original task you set before Seonghwa shattered all your hopes, dreams, and aspirations. Your boy free day would sadly have to wait till another time.

Living in a mafias house meant a shortage of painkillers was impossible. The boys were always bound to come back home with some sort of injury or bruise. The medicine cabinet was basically stocked with more medication and drugs than an actual drug pharmacy.

Pouring yourself a glass of water from the pitcher placed conveniently on the counter below the medicine cabinet, you grab the strongest painkillers from the cabinet and shake out the recommended dosage.

“What happened to your neck?” Seonghwa’s voice questioned behind you as you swallow down the painkillers.

“Your leader has a vampire kink,” you answer blatantly, turning to face Seonghwa with a straight face.

Seonghwa challenges you with the same straight face till he couldn’t take it anymore and cracks into a fit of laughter that fills the kitchen entirely.

“So he was that mad over what they said?” he ponders, wiping the tears of laughter from the corners of his eyes that had formed.

“Of course he was mad! His men were- wait you knew he was mad?”

Seonghwa nodded nonchalantly at your question.

“And you did nothing to calm him down?” you marveled

“We didn’t necessarily do nothing; we sent him to you!” Seonghwa admits with a proud smile.

……

“Would you like to take a walk in the woods hwa?” you suggested in a low voice, your right eye twitching ever so slightly.

“Huh?”Seonghwa blurted out, seemingly thinking about something else so deeply he didn’t hear you.

Signing heavily, you decide to let go of all murderous thoughts(for now). “Nothing just glad Joong didn’t tear down the whole house...again”

Dropping the conversation, you both went back to the normal routine. The painkillers would take some time to fully kick in, so you figured a breakfast smoothie was the least exhausting thing to make and it didn’t require chewing.

Seonghwa had long finished his cereal by the time various fruits scattered the chopping board, half already chopped by you, and the rest awaiting your fatal knife. Instead of leaving the kitchen, he opted to stay and watch you.

Intently watch you at that. Gazing up at him while cutting the strawberries, you could tell from his contorting facial expressions, he had something on his mind. “What’s on your mind hwa?” you question, getting down to the last few strawberries you had to chop.

He peered up to your calm gaze. He contemplated whether he should answer you, but ultimately he voiced his thoughts, “why aren't you mad at hongjoong? I mean he quite literally bit into you,” he remarked

Ah, another million-dollar question. See although the question was certainly unexpected- especially from Seonghwa who never asks about your sex life with the others- you knew exactly what your answer was, “I trust him.” The answer was simple, yet held a heavy meaning.

“I trust Hongjoong too, but I wouldn’t just let him bite me, let alone forgive him so quickly,” Seonghwa acclaimed, bewildered by your answer. He knew how Hongjoong can be rough with you, but a full skin-piercing bite? Even for Seonghwa, it seemed unsettling.

A small chuckle mustered out of you, “I mean a different type of trust dummy. Yes, I trust him the same way you trust him, but I also trust him sexually.”

“I’m not fully following,” he replied, scratching his head confusingly.

Exhaling loudly, you wipe the chopped strawberries off the knife and set it down on the chopping board to join Seonghwa in the chair right next to him. This is going to be a lot to explain, you say to yourself.

Your relationship with the boys was complex. explaining your sexual relationships with one another was practically like explaining directions to a maze with no exit, especially when trying to explain the kinks that others had.

Partially Seonghwa was the worst one to try and explain things too. Though it’s been a year since you’ve come into the family, he stayed cautious with you in bed. The boys all had their kinks and surely had no trouble showing them to you, Seonghwa...seonghwa was the opposite.

You weren’t even sure he had any kinks.

“What I’m trying to say is, when it comes to activities in the bedroom, I trust him with my body fully. I’m not mad at the bite because I knew he wasn’t biting out of anger against me. And even in his full rage mode, I know he’d never hurt me intentionally. That’s the trust we share with each other.”

“We explore each other. Set the bounds, set the rules, and we compromise on everything. He owns my body, and I own his. That’s how our relationship and trust in each other works,” you explain carefully.

“So, do you share that same trust with all of us?” Seonghwa ponders, tone slightly hushed. Inwardly you were slightly perplexed. You never really voiced out your trust with each member, well excluding Joong. You felt they could all silently feel it- hmm maybe that’s why.

“I would’ve been on the next plane to a deserted island if I didn’t trust you all like that, specially with Mingi’s kinky ass,” you snicker, about to get up to return to your previous tasks, but Seonghwa’s hand stops you.

“Hwa?” you question.

“The boys won’t be back till tomorrow, so will you trust me tonight?” he smiles softly.

Heat rises up to your cheeks in embarrassment; it was such a formal and endearing way to ask for that. “Y-yeah…” you stutter out, almost choking from how dry your mouth had suddenly become.

Seonghwa beams up from his seat with excitement, “I won’t let you down!” he exclaims, kissing your hand affectionately before skipping out the kitchen with giddy.

Weird, you thought to yourself, finally getting back to your poor unfinished smoothie.

….

“Did he just skip out of the kitchen like an anime school girl?!”

The day went by in a flash. The last time you had checked the clock it was 9 am, rechecking it, it was now 11 pm. You spent the day cleaning the mess Hongjoong had made of the bedroom and online shopping for new bedroom furniture.

Though the house had no shortage of maids that could’ve easily cleaned up the disaster Hongjoong had caused, no one but you and him were allowed in his room.“I merely feel like my space should be private to us alone,” was Hongjoongs explanation. You understood what he was saying, but cleaning that room was an absolute pain in the ass.

Currently, you were lounging around on the living room couch as a random movie played in the background. It was getting closer and closer to 12, and yet, there was no sign of Seonghwa.

After the breakfast fiasco, he disappeared. You didn’t see him at all around the house, not even a glimpse. You figured he ran off somewhere, but when you asked the guards if he left or where he went, they stifled from answering.

Bzz! Financially at 12 on the dot, your phone vibrates next to you. Turning it over, it was lit up with a message from seonghwa, come to my bedroom.

“Odd,” you voiced out to no one in particular. Nonetheless, you got up from the couch and headed to Seonghwas room.

“Veryyy odd,” you mutter when you see the normally empty hallway lined with candles along the walls. A lighted trail clearly mapped out to the door of Seonghwas bedroom.

The candles in the hallway didn’t have a particular scent to them, but as you approach closer to the bedroom, a scent all too familiar invades your senses. “Vanilla amber,” you whisper in amazement when you reach Seonghwa’s door and push it open.

The room was lined with candles everywhere; the floor, the nightstands, the dresser- everywhere. And right spanking in the middle of the room was the ghost of the day, Seonghwa. He stood there, hair parted and styled to perfection, a pair of plaid pajama pants his only clothing choice of the night.

The sight of him immediately sent fire to your cheeks. You’ve obviously seen Seonghwa’s body before, yet something about the light produced from the candles gleaming on his toned chest sent a wave of desire coursing throughout your body.

It appears you liked the sight a little too much as per the fact that Seonghwa had to fake a cough to get your attention away from his exposed stomach. “Oh umm...h-how did you get all these candles?” you ask awkwardly, trying to keep your gaze at bay.

“Cute,” Seonghwa muses. “I had to go to a couple of different candle stores, though I see you’re more focused on something else,” he smirks, stepping closer to you slowly.

“I-I…”

“May I?” Seonghwa questions, eyes gesturing down to the clothing you were wearing.

You answer him in a curt nod, unable to find your voice due to the intense atmosphere. He starts with your top first, undoing the buttons at an antagonizing slow pace. “You prepared,” Seonghwa uttered in amusement, eyes basking in your bare chest.

You had taken off any undergarments beforehand knowing full well what was going to go down tonight. The silk pajama shirt discarded to the ground with a small plop. Seonghwa’s warm hands came to your stomach, his thumbs pressing down lightly as they map out every curve to your body. His fingers then come to the waistband of your pajama shorts, successfully pulling them off just as teasingly as your shirt.

You stood there naked looking down at the ground not daring to look at Seonghwa as he observed your body, trying to engrain the picture in his brain.

He raises your chin so your eyes could meet and gives you a pleasing smile, “you’re perfect.” you couldn’t help the tiny flush of embarrassment that went through you at his gentle words, “I’m no-”

“You are,” Seonghwa affirms lowly, then, his soft lips are pressed on yours. No roughness or rushing, it was gently sensual, and you respond just the same. The kissing got deeper and deeper; Seonghwa’s tongue pushing past your teeth and meeting your tongue with ease as you gave no resistance to it.

Seonghwa pulls you closer, his hands resting on your hips while his tongue continues to explore every inch of your mouth- occasionally sucking on your tongue. He was doing most of the work and wanting to satisfy him as well was becoming a heavy need for you.

So, deciding to bold, your hand goes to the tent forming in his pajama pants; you touch feather-like as you start to palm him. Seonghwa groans at the surprise, his lips tilting away from you to let out small puffs of air.

His head drops down to your shoulder as you continue to palm him; your hand adding pressure to his shaft little by little. Seonghwa is withering in your touch, his little puffs of air turning into shallow moans. God were his moans orgasm worthy.

Lifting his head up, Seonghwa’s rough voice invades your ears, “that’s enough foreplay.” he pulls your hand away from his intensely prominent erection and trunks you to push you on the bed- his pants quickly discarded in a flash.

You don’t even get the chance to revel in Seonghwa’s fully bare body before he’s on top of you; his cock resting heavily against your belly, the head of it red with need and leaking drops of precum.

Seonghwa’s lips and hands find purchase on your breast, squeezing and gently sucking them. Teasing one nipple with his fingers and the other left to be tormented by his tongue. His ministrations driving you to whine and squeal as pleasure soars through you.

His torture on your sensitive nipples continues for a few minutes, his hands and mouth alternating between each nipple, your body thrashing, and twisting. Mouth wide open and letting out soft moans.

Once Seonghwa’s hunger for your breast is sated, he pulls away, saliva dripping down his mouth like a rabid animal. However, his fingers continue to work your nipples- twisting them playfully, his grip sometimes tightening causing you to groan and arch your back.

“What happened to no foreplay,” you pant out with a little difficulty due to Seonghwa’s intoxicative touch.

Seonghwa retorts your comment with one last tight squeeze to your nipples and an amused chuckle that dies down as quickly as it came out. His face turns serious, deadly serious. His eyes glance up to yours, no joking expression to be found on his face, “do you trust me?”

The question perplexed you, “of course I do hwa,” you answer quickly without any hesitation.

“No, do you trust me?” he asks again, his voice emphasizing the word trust.

“Yes,” you answer again with no hesitation. You knew what he was really asking and it was the full truth, you do trust him both ways. Still, Seonghwa searches your eyes for any doubt, when he finds none at all, his expression relaxes, and his lustful gaze returns.

“Thank you,” Seonghwa replies genuinely before getting off the bed to position himself between your legs. You catch a spark of thrill course through Seonghwa as he stares down your body in admiration. “Ready?” he questions, lining himself up with your entrance.

You don’t have to even contemplate your answer and give him a firm nod, which he returns. You hold in your breath as seonghwa starts to push inside you. He sank in slowly to let you adjust and for the benefit of feeling every inch of him.

Though there was no resistance, you couldn’t resist letting out a gruntled moan. Seonghwa wasn’t as long as hongjoong, but he sure as hell was girthier making the stretch painfully delicious.

Once Seonghwa’s cock was fully settled in you, he reared his hips back and slowly thrusts back in. He continues with these slow and gentle thrusts, gradually working you open till you’re accepting all of him with ease and small moans.

“Fuck Y/n,” Seonghwa groans at you, “you feel so fucking good around me,” his sultry voice fanning your ear when he delivers a particularly hard thrust causing a loud moan to tear from your throat.“That’s it, baby, take it all,” he praises you, the pace of thrusts instantly picking up from thereon.

Seonghwa moves harder and faster, his skin slapping yours vigorously, and you’re relishing in the bliss. Seonghwa is pressing into you so deeply and dragging along your sensitive insides.

You close your eyes wanting to only concentrate on the pleasure you're receiving and the build-up of an orgasm forming in you- a plethora of loud moans unawarely flooding out your mouth. Seonghwas thrusts slow and falters for a second and he shirts himself a little, but returns to the same pace in a matter of seconds, so you thought nothing of it.

“You’re doing so well baby, but I’m going to need you to breathe and relax yourself for what’s going to happen next,” he asks of you lowly in your ear, one of his hands sliding up and down your thigh to calm down your now very alert mind.

“What’s going to happen hwa?” you ask through rocky moans, tempting to open your eyes, but Seonghwa covers them quickly before you could catch a glimpse of anything.

“Ah ah keep your eyes closed, and I want to try something with you, but you need to trust me and relax, Seonghwa halts his thrusts completely, “nothing harmful will happen to you. Everything is up to you. I won’t do anything you don’t want or don’t ask for; so, do you want to do this?”

You feel a bit apprehensive at whatever seonghwa is planning to do. The fear of the unknown will always be very much present within you, but you felt safe in Seonghwa’s hands, and that’s all that was needed to clear your mind of any hesitation or doubt.

“I want to do it,” you agree firmly.

“What’s the safe word?”

“Purple.”

“Good girl, now breathe and relax for me.” Seonghwa resumes his thrusts, pulling his hips back gently and pushing in every inch of his cock all the way. You breathe in deeply through your nose and exhale steadily through your mouth, letting your body go lax and bringing that built up pleasure back.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” Seonghwa praises, a fast pace of thrusts hitting inside you suddenly. You try to keep up a steady breathing pattern, but it’s near to impossible with Seonghwa’s cock rubbing along your walls, hitting that special spot so fucking good.

with your eyes closed, every sensation becomes more present and powerful. Seonghwa only pushes impossibly further, provoking more moans to pour out of you. All your senses have been drowned so much by Seonghwa’s cock that you fail to smell the pungent odor of smoke.

More so, you fail to question what is it Seonghwa was going to do when you let out what would be classified as a hiss mixed with a strangled moan, “ah fuck!” a hot heat had hit your stomach unexpectedly causing the mixed sound to erupt from your throat and your body to twit oddly.

Your eyes fly open to investigate what the hell just splattered on you and- fuck.

It took your eyes a second to adjust, but there everything was clear as day. Seonghwas body glistened with sweat, his muscles flexing rigidly as he continues to thrust into you hard, his eyes dazed out with lust, and his hand holding a burnt-out candle a foot above your stomach.

“I knew you where a kinky fuck,” you groan out as seonghwa moves to drip the hot wax on your left thigh.

“I could say the same about you. You’re clenching down on me so tightly; you like it baby?” seonghwa chuckles breathlessly, moving the candle above your breasts and letting a stream of hot wax drip. You clamp down hard on his cock, the heat of the wax creating an unusual pleasurable pain that could only be described as intense. So intense it has you gasping and squirming uncontrollably.

Seonghwa gave one last dribble of wax on your right thigh; he knew you both wouldn’t last much longer and he didn’t want to push you farther on your first time with something new. Setting the burnt-out candle aside, Seonghwa curls his hands under your knees and guides your legs over his shoulders.

“You’re doing so good baby,” Seonghwa gushes and gives a gentle kiss to your knee. That sweet moment didn’t last even a second; Seonghwa’s grip on you tightens and he starts pounding into you at a relentless brutal pace.

The pure force of his cock thrusting into you has you delirious. All you could do was tray and grasp at any air you could. You couldn’t help yourself anymore, inaudible cries of seonghwas' name spill out of you; he was pushing and filling you in all the right ways.

Seonghwa wasn’t doing any better. His thrusts grew erratic and impatient, his breathing becoming labored, and muscles contraction. A sinfully beautiful sight he was to bask in.

You whine out, the rough pushes of his cock that wnt impossibly deeper into you finally pushing you to your orgasm. “Fuck!” you scream, tossing your head back in absolute bliss. Everything felt so light, but heavy at the same time.

The build-up, your fucked out face, and the wax that glistened so brightly with the help of the candle flames is all it took for Seonghwa to spill into you. His body convulsing with relief as he fills you up with every drop of his cum- the amount so big that some even spills out of you before he pulls out.

Seonghwa flops down next to you, completely burnt out and exhausted; the same exact feeling hitting you as you come down from euphoric bliss. “Are you okay baby?” Seonghwa asks you softly, sluggishly getting up to grab a few wet rags and oil to get the hardened wax off your skin.

Seonghwa first took one of the wet rags and wiped up all the excess cum that had gushed out of you. He then took another rag and smothered oil on it, and began dotting oil all over the wax, effectively soaking it and peeling it off your body.

He gave your body one last wipe down before throwing away the dirtied rags and wax in the trash, and flopping down next to you again- His arms immediately coming around you and pulling you flush against his chest.

“Thank you for this. For trusting me,” Seonghwa whispered, his tired eyes staring into yours with genuine love and happiness. Your heart swelled full with the same love. No words could ever express just how much you love and trust these boys, and no words could ever express how much it means to you to be trusted by them.

Trust isn’t simple in their world, trust is life or death. It’s a bond that if broken or severed could only leave with a bullet to the heart- figuratively and literally.

“I love you,” you whisper softly, snuggling into him and giving a small kiss to his chest.

“I love you to baby,” Seonghwa whispers back, tightening his arms around you in a protective hold.

With that, you drift to sleep peacefully. The last things you hear being Seonghwa’s calm breathing and the distant quiet sound of a phone going off.

____________________________________________________

Taglist: @mirror-juliet @ambersaesthetics @multidreams-and-desires @etherealskzs @sonnensplitter @daroze22 (Sorry if I missed anyone!)

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randomly-a-fan · 3 years

Text

‘IT’ needs advice

It was nearly the end of the summer and the carnival was in town, so MJ thought about taking her daughter out before she goes to her private school for the first time. Jason will allow it since he wanted her to have fun in life, but he chose not to go for his own rights; due to being the most wanted and didn’t want to ruin the moment for Malon.

After the two girls went out, Jason thought of cleaning up the place since there’s no one at his territory. Then he heard a door knock; normally MJ answers the door, but since she’s not here, he’ll have to answer it. He had his machete by his side, just in case. The person at the door is very unexpected, because the person at the door so happens to be Pennywise, holding a bouquet of flowers. “Hiya Jason… uh… is MJ there?” Pennywise asked with a sheepish smile. Jason immediately took out his machete and swung it towards him. “JASON WAIT THIS IS NOT WHAT YOU THINK!” Pennywise yelled as he was dodging his swings. While Jason tries to kill Pennywise, he opened his mouth to show him the deadlights. However, they don’t work on Jason since he’s an undead. “Huh… I guess the deadlights don’t apply to you…” Pennywise sighs before he goes down to his knees. “I guess it doesn’t matter if you do slash me… Since Star broke up with me and left me…” Pennywise said as a tear started to float up. Jason still has his machete in the air but decided to let Pennywise explain his story.

Jason was going to write a note until Pennywise stopped him. “You don’t have to write a note for me; I can read your mind so you can just think about what you want to tell me.” Pennywise explained. Jason nodded before he ‘spoke.’ “What’s your problem clown?” Jason asked in thought. That’s when Pennywise and Jason have a discussion.

***

It happened three days ago when Pennywise was just going out with his son for a father and son bond, while Aquarius was at home doing some cleaning. She was still wearing her necklace that Pennywise gave her for Mother’s Day. Just as she was finishing up, she felt Pennywise’s hands rubbing against her hips. Wait, why is Pennywise back so early, and where is Archie? “Back so soon love?” Aquarius said as she extended her arm to feel his cheek. That’s when ‘Pennywise’ picked her up bridal style and carried her to her room. What Aquarius didn’t know is that the Pennywise that was lusting her was an imposter; also, that her necklace that she was wearing has a sensor that lets Pennywise know what was going on.

Pennywise (the real one) froze in place as his eyes are facing the opposite direction (not cross-eyed) “Uh, dad… are you okay?” Archie asked. Then a sudden shock appeared on his dad’s face. “You go on ahead to the park, I’ll be right back!” Pennywise said as he quickly vanished.

Aquarius was just stripping her jumpsuit while the imposter does the same, just before he had the chance to go on top of her, the door barged open. “KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF OF MY WIFE!” The real Pennywise shouted. “Pennywise?” Aquarius was confused, if the one yelling was her Pennywise, then who’s the imposter. Pennywise made the imposter reveal his true form, and appeared Papawise. “PAPAWISE?” Aquarius freaked out as she realized that she nearly slept with Pennywise’s genre. Aquarius lifted the blanket to cover her semi naked body. “Uh… Way to go son… You’ve guessed the trick… I’ll be going now…” Papawise said as he was about to leave the room, until Pennywise kicked him in the behind with force.

Pennywise turned to Aquarius with worry in his eyes. “Are you alright Star-Bright?” Pennywise asked as Aquarius was putting her outfit on. “I’m fine… But… How did you know I was going to get humped?” Aquarius asked with confusion. Pennywise sweated a little until he started staring at her necklace and then back at her face. Aquarius looked down on her necklace and realize why he looked at it. “Did it have something to do with this necklace?” Aquarius asked. Pennywise sighed in grief. “Okay… I guess I may as well tell you…” Pennywise sat down on the foot of their bed to explain the story. “You want to know how I know where Archie has been going all this time? Well the truth is… that glowing orb on your necklace is really a sensor to help me track down our son, after I have asked you to follow him.” Pennywise explained.

Aquarius was staring in shock. “Are you telling me that the necklace you’ve bought for me for Mother’s Day; a gift of love, is actually a tracking tool to ruin our son’s friendship with the Voorhees. You’ve been using me as a tool all this time?” Aquarius asked with a mad glare and tears in her eyes. Pennywise was shocked about the part of him using her. “Star baby, don’t say that, that’s not true at all…” “Then why did you lie to me then? I don’t keep secrets from you, but you keep secrets from me!” Aquarius snapped before giving him the chance to finish. Pennywise looked down before he faced her again. “From the way you say it… It sounded true… But you know I luv–” But before he can finish his sentence, Aquarius got out of bed and barged out the door and headed outside. “Gumdrop, where are you going?” Pennywise called out. “Don’t call me Gumdrop, don’t call me EVER.” Aquarius replied with rage and ripped the necklace off and threw it to the ground. As Pennywise tries to run after her, she was already rolling away with her roller-skates that she always wears. Pennywise picked up the necklace and looked at it with grief, feeling the tears floating out of his eyes.

***

“And that’s how it ended… I tried to talked her into coming back home, but she slammed the door into my face and refuses to talk to me… That’s why I came… I needed MJ’s advice since she was the closest female I’ve ever known… Except Cassandra; who is my cousin-in-law. But she doesn’t have a boyfriend so she won’t be much of a help.” Pennywise explained.

Jason shook his head as to the fact that he has to be the one to help him; even if he threatened his family in the past, but what choice does he have? “MJ is out with my daughter to the carnival so it’s just you and me… stupid clown.” Pennywise sighed as he heard Jason’s mind calling him stupid. “Well then… I guess I’ll ask you… Do you and MJ ever go through experiences like this?” Pennywise asked. Jason tried to think of the moment when these two had an argument or a fight, but MJ was very easy going, with Aquarius not being afraid to speak up. “The only time I can remember is when I forbid her to leave for home after that accident she had a long time ago… I was rough on her when I shook my arm off away from her as she was about to touch me… Then I made her cry…” Jason’s mind explained. “Then what did you do? did you two make physical activities in the bedroom?” Pennywise asked as he remembered that it’s what he did for Aquarius when they first argued. “NO, don’t be so dirty-minded! I just calm my nerves and wrapped my arms around her and gave her a comforting hug, and I showed her my guilt face… Then we settled our ways.” Jason’s mind answered. Pennywise just stares with disappointment, since it’s not the answer he was hoping for. “I guess I’m on my own then…” Pennywise said sadly as he was about to leave. Jason made a thought that he will regret for the rest of his undead life. “Just a minute… How about we have some Strawberry Rhubarb Squares; MJ made them the other day, they’re out of this world.” Jason surprisingly said in his mind. Pennywise looked back and made a half smile. At least he gets to have something sweet… other than flesh.

Next Part Coming Soon

#Friday the 13th #Jason Voorhees #IT #IT Chapter 2 #Pennywise #Pennywise the Dancing Clown #Archie #Aquarius #Aquarius the Singing Clown

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bubmyg · 4 years

Text

footnote: better together - ksj

pairing: seokjin x reader

genre/warnings: neighbor!au, strangers to enemies to lovers, fluff, sugar glider fun, seokjin has a collection of stationary and alpaca statues, cheesy holiday goodness

word count: 10,935

summary: the tale of semi friendly notes exchanged passive aggressively between a pair of neighbors until they’re no longer threatening to blackmail one with voice memos of the other singing justin bieber in the shower or the one where you’re alone in your apartment complex and holiday activities are done better together

a/n: happy holidays and happy late birthday to mistre seokjinnie!!!!

Kim Seokjin had a way with delivering words. You’d, quite literally, discovered that hour one of indirect interaction with him.

Three weeks and the newness of your apartment had started to fade, your decorations hung at slightly crooked angles from your pattered meanderings around the vicinity of your space, laundry dangling out of the hamper rather than meticulous stuffed inside, snacks now scrawled on a list pasted to the front of your fridge where their once full wrappers were hidden in the depths of your trash can. Muscle memory started to carry your legs up the back staircases and through narrow hallways for your apartment, passing by familiar decorations hung on the outside of doors and the occasional familiar face whose schedule happened to coincide somehow with yours.

It was in a similar fashion that you assumed you had no neighbor directly next to you. The walls were paper thin as the individual across from you took great privilege in letting their door crash shut every time they opened it at four in the morning and from your limited knowledge of building layouts and the way yours slotted nicely to the neighboring apartment, you assumed that if you did have a neighbor, you would have heard them in their bathroom at least once at this point.

You hadn’t. Not one noise.

Three weeks into newness fading from your apartment meant built up grime in varying degrees was starting to plague your apartment, thus, time for the first weekend day dedicated entirely to scrubbing into crevices of tile and wood. The earbuds snug in your ears played some tune, something you vaguely recognized from the radio as you hummed absently to it in meandering into your bathroom to grab another wipe from the yellow cylinder perched on the counter.

The pop of the lid opening and closing registered louder over the sound of your earbuds but it was the melody of something that didn’t at all match the music contained only to your ears that caused you to pause, disinfectant wipe dangling from the pinch of your thumb and index finger as you glanced around the small space. With your free hand, you clicked at the tiny white control dangling off your earbuds to silence your music, squinting as if the narrowing of your sight would help your ears pick up the source of the noise.

Seeping between the drywall was the voice of Justin Bieber, or rather, the lyrics over a Justin Bieber track but the voice pitched higher, dramatic clearly for the fact that this water was in the shower but with a hint of training, melodious and mesmerizing to an extent.

If only that voice weren’t loud as fuck.

You tried to ignore it by tapping your volume up a notch and clicking to a playlist of songs that were just a fraction louder than before. And for the most part, you did forget about the actions of your apparent new neighbor while you scrubbed down the cheap countertops in your kitchen and piled trash bags near the door to take down to the dumpster when it wasn’t dark and less than ten degrees outside.

The volume in your ears sank as the sag of your couch cushions swallowed your stature, allowing your muscles to relax as you paused your music and let your eyes close for a moment of peace. Except there was the patter of water that wasn’t rain or snow or any type of precipitation coating the window beyond your cheap curtains but instead your neighbor still showering. With a groan, your thumb tapped at your phone screen a few times.

Taehyung answered half a ring in, “Can’t talk right now, just let the water for my ramen boil over—”

“Wait, did you actually?”

“No,” You heard a vague, high pitched laugh, “For what do I owe the pleasure of your correspondence?”

“I have a new neighbor.”

“Awe, did your landlord spoil the surprise? It’s me!”

You rolled your eyes, “Were you belting Justin Bieber in the shower earlier?”

“How’d you know?”

“Tae—”

“No, I wasn’t. I’m offended you’d even think that of me.”

“Someone must have moved into the empty apartment next to me while I was at work last night. And they are a better singer than Justin Bieber.”

“Not hard to accomplish that, dove—”

“What do I do? It was funny for like two seconds but I can’t deal with that all the time every night.”

Taehyung scoffed noisily with his lips, “I don’t know. Tell the front desk?”

“Hoseok will be of absolutely no assistance,” You blinked at the far wall from your couch as one of the decorative picture frames you had hung from a command strip began to shake a bit. Popping out an earbud, you found muffled shower sounds replaced with the slam of bathroom cabinets and the uninhibited sound of music, something you vaguely recognized from your previous, radio friendly playlist. “I guess I’ll just hope that it’s the new environment thing running its course. Hopefully I won’t have to experience a terrible concert every time my neighbor wants to shower…”

“I hope that for you as well…” Your best friend trailed off on the other end, “I was partially kidding about the water thing so I kind of have to go...but definitely call me if you have anymore juicy updates on the new neighbor. Maybe I’ll come over sometime and experience it for myself.”

“Go tend to your ramen mess and don’t make Yoongi clean it all up,” Taehyung made another noise of indignation before you signed off with a soft bye, tapping the end button on your phone with another slipping sigh.

You stared at the wall until the popular radio tunes had faded, just a noise but nothing distinguishable as the new tenant had evidently moved out of the bathroom. You had half the mind to connect a bluetooth speaker to your laptop and blast something off of one of your albeit embarrassing playlists but you didn’t feel petty enough for your neighbor’s first night so you gathered your clothes and fiddled at the creaky dial on your shower in silent peace.

The damp towel hung loosely from your neck as you wandered back into the hallway, humming something in place of music but pausing the noise and your steps when something white fluttered underneath your front door. Squinting, you tugged the towel a bit tighter and gripped onto the baggy center of your hoodie as you crouched to swipe up the piece of paper.

It was patterned stationery, a step below cardstock maybe with purposeful, cloudy puffs of grey sprinkled throughout the slightly offwhite paper. Elegant paper, if paper could be elegant, ruined by the messy scrawl of a bleeding black pen, lettings pinched and scrunched to the top half of the paper when they easily could have stretched throughout. In fact, the only thing on the bottom half of the paper was a signature line, spread out and blocky.

Hey, your new neighbor here...if you haven’t noticed, the walls are a bit thing. If you could keep it down when you’re on the phone, that’d be really helpful. Wouldn’t want to have to tell the front desk, you know? Have a nice (quiet) night! - Kim Seokjin (or...your new neighbor).

Your handwriting turned out equal in horrendous quality as your shaking hand etched across a piece of notebook paper you yanked out of a drawer in the kitchen. Seokjin’s note fluttered sadly to the floor as you passed where you’d slammed it down on the edge of your kitchen counter, nearly crumpling the return letter in hand as you retched open your apartment door.

Hey, your neighbor here. I’ll keep that in mind but I’d say you should probably heed your own advice. Wouldn’t want to broadcast a voice memo of you singing 2013 Justin Bieber to the entire building, now would we? Have a nice (quiet!) existence - your neighbor (I don’t think you’ve earned my name quite yet).

In your angered haste, you knocked on the door before you slid the paper underneath, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of stumbling upon it some time throughout the evening like you had. You, and your hazed subconscious, wanted them to know of your threat now.

...until everything screeched back into reality when a few locks fluttered and the door was yanked open to reveal your neighbor, Kim Seokjin.

Wet black hair was swept backward by a searching hand, black joggers snug underneath a massive pink sweater that hung off the knuckles of each hand, the one in his hair and the one clutching your crumpled piece of notebook paper. His facial features were gentle but critical, dark eyebrows pulled inward, plump lips pursed until they gradually pulled outward into a smile as soft brown irises flicked haphazardly across the contents of the note.

“So, what you’re saying is…” Seokjin looked at you, one eyebrow cocking, “You don’t like my music?”

“I don’t like how loud your music is.”

He leaned into his open door, laughing, “Touche’.”

“Just…” You clenched your fists by your side and you half assumed frustrated steam was billowing quietly out of your ears, “Just try to keep it down, please? And if you have a grievance with me just...come knock on my door or something.”

“Only if you don’t threaten to broadcast my bad shower singing—” He paused in place of your name, one you provided with a sigh. He repeated it with a giddy grin, sticking his hand out that you unwillingly shook, “Nice to meet you.”

Except Seokjin all but refused to knock on your door for anything, instead leaving you messily passive aggressive pieces of various colored stationary underneath the sizable crack in your apartment door.

Forest green with darker specks in between had the request for your Wifi password after he’d given some sob story via barely comprehensible handwriting about how his provider couldn’t make it for another week and he needed to submit something for his work now or he’d get fired. You’d refused, obviously, with a silent protest of not returning his request, something he countered with ridiculously obnoxious music for hours straight until you caved and thrust a ripped shard of yellow notebook paper underneath his door.

Only when he’d navigated onto his laptop did he notice that you’d changed your Wifi network name to don’t use this to stream Justin Bieber. A week later, when your connection finally turned to normal did a new network shuffle among the list of others scattered throughout your building.

Using this to stream Justin Bieber.

A pastel blue sheet with purple and navy specks through it came to your door to asking about a printer, Seokjin claiming he’d heard the unmistakable sound through the paper thin walls and that he desperately needed to use it as his suddenly wouldn’t connect to his laptop. If he hadn’t heard a printer, the asterisk at the bottom informed you to disregard completely.

The largest part of you knew it would be a disaster if you were to give him the ability to connect to your bluetooth printer but the smallest part of you knew you couldn’t hide that secret and he’d just torture you with a Disney movie soundtrack until you caved so you scrawled out connection instructions and taped part of the user manual to the note you slid underneath.

It took him a week to start taking advantage of the printer, beginning to use it in place of his notes instead of trekking down the hallway to push cardstock beneath the crack. The first couple were serious, a request for a spare iPhone charger, a half attempt at getting you to invite him over for dinner with a compliment to how good your dinner smelled. The next couple were ridiculous, a meme outdated by about three years, a Wikipedia page on the history of twist bottle caps that he insisted was just an accident with the next print.

Then there was one you thought was ridiculous until the same message printed again on fake cardstock, a color he’d applied to the paper that printed in your apartment (soft pink with maroon splotches) and added text that said THIS IS NOT A JOKE, HELP ME.

You vaguely understood the logistics of sugar gliders but you grabbed a hand towel on your way out of your apartment anyway, picking careful feet on the patterned carpet as to not accidentally step on the creature. It found you first, however, scurrying underneath your pant leg and you had to muffle your scream in the towel as you crouched, managing to fish the sugar glider out with little trouble and throw yourself into Seokjin’s apartment when he opened the door for the tap of your foot against the bottom of it.

“He was outside?” Seokjin took the towel from you to inspect the tittering creature with wide eyes, “How did you get outside?”

“You’re welcome—”

“Please don’t turn me in,” There was a separate panic in Seokjin now that he’d retrieved his pet, referencing the no animal aside from non aggressive fish rule in the apartment building. Another second of you being silent and he continued to ramble, “I don’t have anywhere else to take him and he’s good most of the time I just—”

“Seokjin,” You held up a palm, “I’m not going to turn you in.”

He bounced the towel in his arms like it was a human baby, eyeing you with innocent irises, “On any conditions or you just won’t period?”

You considered his proposition for a moment and felt a tiny bit bad for making conditions on him keeping his pet. But only a tiny bit.

“Stop playing your music so loud,” You proposed. “And I’ll stop using your printer!” Seokjin’s words ran together and his eyes bugged wider, “I’ll give you my number so we can stop wasting paper. Anything…”

He thrust out the hand that wasn’t cradling his pet, “...deal?”

You sighed, watching as his sugar glider’s nose began to twitch and he burrowed into the tiny nest made by your towel. “Deal…”

Except that deal lasted less than a week and he was back to playing music at a ridiculous volume, clattering his cabinets loudly, printing so much it ran out your black ink and you had to ask for money to go buy a new cartridge when you took his heaving stack of documents over to his door.

You tried banging on the wall as a warning, something you’d never thought of before, an action that caused the lowering of volume for no more than ten minutes before it was up again and you were back to digging the heel of your palm in the shared wall separating your bathrooms (and apartments).

This was the first time he’d texted you, something you stared at for a hard few seconds upon forgetting to save his name to the contact information, just a puke emoji. It was the contents of the message that jogged your memory.

Were those knocks Morse code for a song request?

You sighed, angrily tapping into your phone.

No, they meant shut the fuck up.

Months of living in your building meant you had a general idea to the schedules of those who lived around you and how they coincided to yours. That meant you generally parked in the same parking place, took the same route up the stairs, pressed a halfhearted smile into your cheeks at the same people in the lobby and the elevator and the halls. That entire routine was thrown off when you worked over one day, sweat tattered into your hairline and the buttons on your clothes itching to become baggy sweatpants before you departed for an exam that evening and all you could think about was the newly empty parking spot that was entirely closer to the door than where you normally parked.

In the time it took to shed your polo and jeans smelling of the restaurant you waitressed at part time and grab your backpack, there was someone parked directly behind you, effectively boxing you into the space that had a concrete wall in the front and two other cars on either side. At first, you assumed it was an accident until you got closer and the soft wind fluttered at a piece of pastel purple stationary with blue tick marks splattered throughout it.

I see you are enjoying the convenience of my parking spot. The code word is “penis”. Scream it loudly down the hallway and I’ll come out and move my car currently blocking you in. If I don’t “hear” from you in an hour, I’m calling a tow truck. Yours truly, Jin :)

You were shaking by the time your trembling legs brought you in front of his door, your voice miserable in rising to say plenty loud enough, “Penis.”

There was a gentle cackling from the other side of the door and his voice answered back, “Not loud enough.”

Anger, one like the initial day he’d moved in next to you, began to lace into the exhaustion and anxiety crippling the swirling pit of your stomach. It caused your voice to rise a second, unashamed octave, “Penis!”

Seokjin’s fingers tapped on the inside of the door and he hummed, “Still can’t quite hear you, darling.”

Your fists curled so tight it crumpled the note in your hand and you set your shoulders, letting your vocal chords waver as you, pointedly screaming, “Penis! Penis, penis, penis—”

The door swung open to reveal Seokjin’s concerned features, his hands lifting in penance but you continued to repeat the word, pausing only to chastise, isn’t this what you wanted? until a lock could be heard down the hall and Seokjin panicked enough to grab your wrist and tug you into the depth of his apartment.

When he dropped your wrist, you silenced, staring hard at the scrunch of his features and it was the ripping sob that made you immune to the way he’d asked if you were okay approximately three times before the first of the tears began to appear across your cheeks.

“You have my number!” You wailed, hysterical, “Why couldn’t you have just called me like a normal fucking person and asked me to move my car?”

Seokjin stuttered, “A-are you going somewhere?” His eyes flicked to the strap of the backpack that you gripped for dear life.

“I have an exam tonight asshole. Not like you care but I’m probably going to miss that too.”

“No, no, you won’t just—” He darted somewhere and returned with a wad of tissues and his car keys, “—dry your face and let’s go. I’ll drive you.”

“I don’t want you to drive me,” You dabbed at your face with the wad of tissues rather than separating them individually, “I want you to move your car.”

“But—”

“Seokjin,” Your voice rose again, only to dip into a tremble as more tears leaked miserably from the corners of your eyes, “Just move your car. Please.”

The next note came two days after you’d been fifteen minutes late for your exam, paired with the warm scent of freshly baked cookies. The plain piece of white paper advertised that too, that there was a plate of cookies waiting for you just outside your door and you probably needed to get them quickly before other tenants started to think you were running a one person bake sale from inside your apartment. You munched a sizable dent into the tiny pile of chocolate chip lain treats while thumbing softly over the tiny heart curled into the corner of Seokjin’s signature, considering it as some sort of unspoken apology.

He didn’t stop there in his quest to earn back your trust, to amend the absolutely heartbroken expression plastered to your features as a buildup of stress but that he took as his fault for taking the friendly enemy step one footprint too far.

For example, you didn’t question how he’d discovered it was your laundry tumbling in the dryer down in the common area of your floor. Maybe he’d correctly guessed, but regardless, he’d piled your laundry in neat, sorted piles in the white wire basket you’d left perched on top of the machine. You tried to ignore that he’d touched, multiple, pairs of your underwear and instead took the clothes against your side in the trek back to your apartment.

And aside from targeted attacks of penance, he overall tried to be a quiet neighbor, giving off the impression that no one lived there aside from the occasional slip of a shutting cabinet and the flick and click of his door knob and lock. The top forty playlists had ceased along with any other form of music and once you caught him exiting his apartment with earbuds attached to his phone, something a few months ago that you weren’t entirely sure he owned.

It went on this way until the fall month melted into deep winter, ice covering the sidewalks in a thin layer on the first day that it seemed plausible that there would be a white Christmas and you loathed it like the various warnings of canceled (in your email, on the airline website, through the tight lipped voice of the attendant who you’d spoken on the phone with, to the many news warnings flashing across the television screen every time you turned it on to something that was vaguely a news channel) attached to your flight tickets lain forgotten underneath some loose change on your kitchen counter.

You took in the supportive text messages from your family and friends back home with misty eyes kin to the thin glaze of ice covering the window in your apartment that promised not to melt for at least a week, if not the exact opposite and enhance by a few quarter inches with the cold front coming in directly before Christmas. Your fleece blanket served as a tiny, furry cave, sheltering you from the crippling sense of loneliness that came with being alone on the holidays, a sense that plagued your very being of living alone yet heightened when you had the expectation of it ending for a few days while being at home surrounded by other people.

The Snapchat notification from Taehyung went unopened when you saw his story said he’d just touched down in his hometown, just hours before cancellations began to flood in to that particular airport. You swiped away the missed call notifications from your parents that served only to cheer you up but assumed would just make the tired butterflies in your stomach sink. You moved the stack of neatly wrapped presents in your corridor to the hall closet that only contained a vacuum and a dustpan (no broom), even the present that you’d scrawled Seokjin’s name over but had considered keeping for the sake of your own dignity several times over.

You even managed to loathe the wall you shared with Seokjin a bit extra, as it was eerily silent, no annoying albeit comforting ambience filtering from it but instead dead silence, reminding you that you were virtually the only person left in your entire building, if not the entire vicinity of the your suburban side of the college town.

Until that wall began to chatter, first with a barely there scuffle of things against the floor and second with the unmistakable sound of music, his trademark no less, except in holiday fashion this time, melodious bells and jingles marking the underneath of lyrics you couldn’t hear but beats you could vaguely recognize.

Half of your exhausted conscious thought it was a mirage, that you were simply imagining that your neighbor was still here with you as the second and only two individuals left in the entire building, so it aided in your carelessness of wrapping your fleece blanket tighter to your shoulders and venturing out into the hallway. The music of your mirage only seemed to grow louder the closer you shuffled to his door, and you timed your knocks with the tune of jingle bells until you were met with the panicked expression of Seokjin, one you’d seen only once before when you’d been cradling his nearly lost pet in a clump of grey towel.

“Shit,” He cursed, “I figured you’d went home, I’m sorry. I’ll turn the music down again, that’s entirely my bad I was just…” Seokjin trailed off, gesturing quietly over his shoulder and when he stepped aside, you could see the mass of a fallen, plastic tree along with nearly a dozen half opened packages of ornaments. Green metal hooks decorated all the spaces in between, ones curled like his lips into the dimples in his cheeks when he shrugged, “...was trying to put up my tree, is all.”

“Oh,” You nudged your nose into the material around your shoulders, “It’s alright, I just...didn’t think you were here either—” You tried to smile underneath the puffy, sewn hem, “—making sure it was you, you know. Being a watchful neighbor.”

The tiniest of grins manifested to his lips, gradual in growing into the slight wheeze of his laughter but the speech he articulated didn’t quite match, just a soft, “Yeah…”

A few more heartbeats of awkward and you broke the trance with a nod towards the floor, taking a step back, “Well, if you need me then...you know where to find me.”

Seokjin returned your nod. “Yeah. I mean yeah, yeah same.”

You were two sad shuffles down the hall when something was tugging on the end of your blanket. It was Seokjin with the grey fleece held hostage, tugging softly again before dropping it all together, the round of his mouth suggesting the mortification he felt at the situation as the tips of his ears slowly grew red but none of that stopped his invitation.

“Do you want to help me put up my tree?”

When you just stared at him from underneath your makeshift cape, he held up a single finger, a sharp wait! before a distinct crashing could be heard as he stumbled back into his apartment. Moments later he returned with a strip of that familiar stationery, ripped a bit more on the perforated edge in his haste but the message read semi clear as he pressed the paper to the wall and began to mark on it with a thickly tipped black marker.

With all the giddiness in the world, he thrust the note toward you.

Come help me decorate my tree?1 (pretend that one is a footnote) and at the bottom, smooth edge of the paper footnote: this activity is done better together. promise.

In all your short lived instances of appearing in Seokjin’s doorway to explain notes or hand him documents (or sugar gliders), you’d never taken the time to really look at his apartment or at least, those parts of it you could see. Perched on his couch while he stretched on his tiptoes to plant a plastic star with red glitter woven through the middle was an entirely different perspective, especially when the itchy wool inscribing an ostrich with a Santa hat on the front rode up a bit on his hip bones and you had to force yourself to examine the apartment rather than the occupant of said apartment.

It was a similar layout to your own, an open concept living room into a kitchen with fully functioning appliances (his fridge, for example, freckled white and covered in so many magnets you would almost venture to describe the color as magnetic). There was a hallway beyond the wall in which the couch you perched on was pressed to, to the right, his bedroom and to the left, the connection of your bathrooms. In theory, your walls touched in more places than just the initial hotspot that was the shower concert, but seeing the layout for yourself in comparison to how you knew yours was laid out did nothing to change the perception already ingrained in your conscious.

Seokjin seemed to go for modern and minimalistic decorations, monochromes the theme for the big (the black leather couch and matching armchair, the white drawers shoved into the black outlined entertainment center), and wildly neon for the accents (a sharp red shag rug pressed underneath your socked feet, tiny alpaca figurines shoved onto decorative shelves and coffee table corners, a round pink bunny pillow with a questioning eyebrow taking the place of a decorative pillow on his couch).

One alpaca in particular caught your attention, standing upright with a tiny red bow around its neck as it seemed to wave in your direction from it’s place on the edge of the entertainment center. Seokjin’s voice dragged you away from being endeared by it, however, and you again felt your face heating as your eyes tore to the dip in his exposed spine.

“Hello,” He crooned again and you tried to ignore the slight slant in his lips when you finally met his gaze, “Is the star straight?”

You blinked up to where the red spined topper was very clearly lopsided. “Not even close.”

“Okay,” You were quickly growing endowed to the wheeze in his laughter, “Which direction does it need to go?”

There was a vague flick of your wrist toward the front door. He complied and you shook your head, “No...back this way.”

Too far again the wrong direction. Too far back. Nearly tumbling backward off the tree. Pressed forward so the tip was pointing toward you.

Finally, you shrugged, “...that’s good enough.”

Seokjin groaned, letting the pins and needles in his arms relax as he turned to you with slumped shoulders and accusing eyes. “You’re not very good at this thus far,” He told you, placing the bend in his thumb and pointer finger to the high rise of his waist.

“I don’t have much practice this year,” Your voice was light but the implication of the words wasn’t and Seokjin sensed it.

“Not much of a decorator?”

You answered the unasked question, “No. I was waiting to do it with my family.”

“Oh.” He shuffled away from the tree to bend over a cardboard box, traping a tangled mass of green wired lights from within. His attention focused on straightening them out while he inquired gently, “...so you are you staying here over the holidays?”

“Yes. My flight was canceled and a proper one won’t be available until after the holidays.”

“Oh,” Seokjin emphasized the word, nodding mostly to himself as he let the unlit lights drape down his front to sway against his legs, “Good, good. Me, uh...me too. I mean I’m staying here too. And my flight got canceled. The me too was to that part, too—”

“Good,” You happily dismissed the rambled ends of the conversation there, unfurling your legs from underneath you to stand, “Want some help with those?”

You aided each other in wrapping the thin, artificial tree in four strands of twinkling white lights, passing each other the looped wad in front and behind the plastic limbs, careful not to dislodge the prior work of the balanced star while also assuring the bulbs sat nestled in the branches. It looked a bit overwhelmed, wrapped in unlit green wires until Seokjin crawled to the floor to jam one end in the nearby outlet, only to have the tree look a bit underwhelming when only two of the strands lit up, those two being the ones that hugged the middle half of the tree.

The next twenty minutes were spent silently checking each individual bulb, Seokjin stretching back for the top of the tree while you crouched below. You’d barely made it halfway when he was waddling determinedly off into the apartment, only to return with a creaky wooden chair that he ordered you to sit on while you did the work.

“What if we rotate the tree as well,” He proposed, fingers reaching for the light he left off on, “That way we don’t have to, oh—” His fingers twisted into one of the bulbs and suddenly, his entire strand came on with yours following close after. A puzzled smile stretched into his cheeks as he regarded you where you sat on the edge of the chair he’d brought you, “—well, never mind.”

“You know…” You’d watched him meticulously separate green hooks from each other in silence for far too long, “You can turn your music back on.”

A pile of hooks snagged haphazardly against each other fell to the floor when he looked at you. The silence was affecting his ability to function as well, clearly, particularly when he said, “The music? What music?”

“The....the music that you were—?”

As if to cover himself after the handful of heartbeats that were nothing but silence in response to your statement, Seokjin began to laugh, a high pitched wheezing sound that paired to the hand he cupped across his stomach and the other that he slapped against his thigh.

“Oh, right,” Seokjin nodded, stumbling on the fibers of the festive socks on his feet to wherever the source may be, “That music.”

You took it upon yourself to untangle the hooks.

The exchange of silence stayed for the first few songs on the holiday playlist, an unspoken teamwork of you weaving hooks on shiny plastic bulbs while Seokjin placed them evenly around the tree. It took a package of red and silver ornaments and half a package of unconventional, squished lamp shaped ornaments of a green hue before he began to hum.

They were hums that grew louder as your fingers brushed in the transfer of hooked ornaments until he was essentially serenading you with the seam of his lips pressed tightly together, prolonging the shared contact on the ornaments as he leaned a fraction closer with his head wiggling to the beat and a smile tugging upward on his sealed lips.

Then he was singing, something akin to the tone of voice you’d heard him use the very first day he’d moved in. A bit pitchy but on purpose, careless and carefree, soft at first but growing louder the more comfortable he got with you being in the presence of a one man audience for a one man concert.

And then his voice switched, something more formal, a bit whispery and genuinely beautiful. It had you pausing in your actions, hook in one hand and ornament in another while the corner of your jaw began to unhinge. He was lost in it, unaware that you’d failed to hand him another ornament until he turned with eyes screwed shut and bumped into your outstretched fists.

Seokjin’s eyes popped open, immune to the expression on your features as he took the ornament from you, placing the unhooked plastic and the hook on separate places on the tree before sliding his hands into yours. His voice wavered between silly and trained, happily wavering your intertwined hands in between your bodies as he danced your figures in messy circles around the myriad of excess decorations.

“You can step on my feet, you know,” Seokjin assured, letting go of one of your hands to coax you into a stumbling circle. When you made the revolution, he held you at arms length as the streaming service through the speaker buffered between songs.

“I’m not close enough to step on your feet.”

He regarded you for the half second it took a single eyebrow to cock before he jerked on your arm, tugging you nearly on top of his toes. Seokjin hushed, “Is this better?”

There was a distinct waft of cinnamon and vanilla that filtered off the smiling ostrich stretched across his broad stature paired with a comforting warmth that soothed through the stabilizing hand you’d pressed to his chest. Your gaze trailed upward from the stitched tufts of hair woven into the top of the ostrich’s head to meet Seokjin’s gentle eyes, irises brewed in something that radiated the same coffee warmth of the rest of his aura.

Bluntly, you answered, “Yeah, I’m standing on your feet now.”

He took that as his cue to rock you back and forth, still perched on the tops of his feet, matching the beat of the more melancholy instrumental that filled the apartment. The sun had begun to set outside, lessening the natural light into a glossy orange hue that enhanced the twinkle of lights now forgotten on the tree as two shadows curled around the small space and melded into each other.

“You have a nice singing voice,” You said to his collarbone, afraid to meet his gaze again.

“Thank you,” Seokjin squeezed one of your hands, “You’re a terrible dancer.”

It was reflex to smack his shoulder, daring your gaze up at him just to glare and in turn sending the two of you into a fit of unabashed laughter. It was laughter that brought the curl of your bodies closer together, gripping each others hands tighter, until the giggles died into soft smiles directed solely to each other.

Seokjin cocked his head after a moment, “Would you like to stay and watch a movie?”

“I don’t have much in my cabinet other than this—” A warm bowl of ramen was placed gently on the fold out TV tray in front of you, “—and this…” Next was a paper bowl filled to the top with buttery popcorn. Seokjin held a sheepish smile when you glanced up at him to thank him, “Movie night essentials, you know.”

You hummed, sliding the wrapper from the chopsticks he’d provided to absently dig them through the noodles, “Thank you. We could have ordered something, you know…”

“Yeah? What could we have ordered?” The smile on his lips was teasing as he gestured for the ice stained window in the corner where flakes of new falling snow could vaguely be seen. “I don’t think much is open anyway...we’re pretty close to campus and nearly everyone has gone home.”

You moaned into the first bite you pushed past your lips, “That should have been us. Don’t remind me.”

“What?” Seokjin plopped next to you on the couch, dragging his own TV stand closer to ruffle around at the utensils and bowls, “You mean you’d rather have a home cooked meal and a tree with fully functioning lights?” His eyebrows lifted in the direction of the tree you’d aided in decorating where the bottom strand of lights flickered each time you stepped on his floor with a little too much force.

“Thank you, though. Seriously,” You let your next bite of ramen pool back into the bowl, eyeing it as you confessed, “It’d be worse to be alone so...I’m thankful you’re stuck here too.”

A surprised noise left Seokjin’s lips as he mumbled around the chipmunk shape of his cheeks as a result his own steaming bowl, “Well I’m glad you’re here too—” He swallowed thickly, leaning over to nudge you with his elbow, “—you’re not a half bad tree decorator. The lights are my fault somehow, I’m sure.”

The television was on but without anything playing, just the home screen of various applications and the name of the building cable provider in the corner. You ate through the silence of a dozen mouthfuls of food until Seokjin began to hum to himself again, shoving his bowl aside to dig busy fingers in the popcorn while his free hand went fishing in the couch cushions. You watched as he returned, triumphant, with a remote, clicking at the buttons with the brush of his thumb.

“What do you want to watch?” He continued to munch happily on his popcorn as he opened a streaming service and navigated to the holiday section. “Any traditions you’re being deprived of this year?”

You watched as he skimmed past the green, yellow, and blue cover of—

“Elf is pretty good,” You murmured, stirring the ends of your chopsticks through the leftover broth in your bowl.

Seokjin navigated back to it quickly, pressing play before he asked, “Oh, yeah? I don’t know that I’ve ever watched it all the way through.”

“You’ve never watched Elf?” You passed the utensils in your fingers aside to reach for your untouched bowl of popcorn, pulling it against your chest as you leaned back into the couch cushions. You stuck the first of the pieces in as the beginning tune of the opening credits filled the apartment, “Well, you’re in for a treat.”

He was still giggling by the time Christmas was saved by the less than magical voice of James Caan singing Santa Claus is Coming to Town in the middle of Central Park but not enough that he was distracted from you nudging him off your shoulder to gently take his dirty dishes and empty trash to usher it all into the kitchen.

“You don’t have to do that,” Seokjin rushed, galloping after you only before nearly tumbling headfirst over the TV tray still folded open in front of him. He caught up to you as you began to run water through the dirtied bowls, “I invited you to stay, wouldn’t I be a bad guest making you do my dishes?”

“Don’t let me do them, then. Help me,” You handed him the rinsed bowl and gestured to what appeared to be a frayed sponge and a half full bottle of soap. You made a point of grabbing the soap and pressing a dollop of it onto the otherwise dry sponge Seokjin lifted to scrub through the curved inside of the bowl. “Then you can let me meet your sugar glider. Properly.”

“Gukmul,” Seokjin nodded, letting the half clean bowl splatter to the suds below, “I”m sure he’ll be thrilled to properly meet his savior.”

You started to say his name as he disappeared down the hall of the apartment, effectively leaving you with the dishes all over again. He was quick though, you halfway through rinsing the bowl he’d abandoned when he returned with a towel shaped ball, your towel, curled against his chest.

“Here,” He gently held the bundle out toward you, especially when the white furred creature with grey ears poked its head out from between the sanction of his owner’s palms. “You hold him and I’ll do that.”

You dried your hands on the front of your pants, brushing fingers with Seokjin as you assured him you had the bundled up creature, quickly bringing him against your chest. Gukmul didn’t stay in the cocoon for long, regarding you with black beaded eyes until he made his move. Tiny, jumping movements let him glide up the front of your sweater until he was perched against your neck, content with his tiny heartbeat rapidly brushing against your skin.

“He likes you,” Seokjin nodded, placing one bowl aside to reach for the other.

“Is he going to jump off?” You countered, too preoccupied with how soft the little animal was for proper flashbacks of the last incident to flash in your conscious.

“Probably not,” He grinned when you looked horrified, “What? I can’t guarantee he won’t.”

“...although he might want to stay a little longer if you bribe him with a treat—” Seokjin jerked a suddy thumb over his shoulder, “There’s cut apples in the refrigerator if you want to feed him one.”

Elongated, picking footsteps carried you toward the refrigerator, ones in which Gukmul barely moved an inch other than to stabilize himself against your shoulder. The same amount of care was taken to get back across the room once you’d retrieved the apple cube, successful in not losing the tiny sugar glider until he resided in your palm with his treat happily munched between his cheeks.

“Will you help me pick up all the decoration stuff too?”

You glanced up at Seokjin from where you’d previously been watching his pet with utter fascination. “If job can be to hold Gukmul so he doesn’t get in the way, then yes.”

“He has a cage for that,” He placed the second, clean bowl aside before reaching for the pan he’d cooked the noodles in. He exchanged an amused glance between you and the sugar glider, “I was kidding, anyway. You don’t have to help me.”

“I was still just joking, you know,” He told you a few minutes later when you stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the dozen plastic bins that looked as though they’d puked holiday cheer onto the tile floor of Seokjin’s apartment. “You don’t have to help me.”

“I’m going to help you.”

You moved to crouch on the floor to collect stray hooks and an assortment of miniature, icicle shaped ornaments that had scattered outside of their plastic box when he was cupping your elbow to halt you.

“Wait—” Seokjin held up a finger with a mischievous glint in his irises that tucked into the corner of his eyes to regard you, “—I have an idea of what to do with these.”

“Are we going to get in trouble for this?”

Seokjin huffed dramatically from below, hands shifting off the small of your back so that he nearly got two handfuls of your ass. “Probably not, now attach the garland before I drop you.”

The connection of the twist tie around the wire of the green branches was messy but it secured enough along the top part of the cabinets in the common area of your floor, perfect timing for the way your foot slipped off the small part of counter top and proceeded to throw most of your body weight into Seokjin’s palms.

“I’ll never forgive you if you let me fall,” You threatened.

“That implies that you’ve forgiven me for everything else,” Seokjin grunted, bracing his weight and pushing until you were stabilized again, “So that to me is a win.”

You glanced at him over your shoulder, finding the tiniest bead of sweat matting down black fringe on one side of his face but he was wholly serious as he huffed and got a tighter grip on your back. You teased gently so he would look at you, “Who said I forgive you for anything?”

This time, his palms did cup your ass in route to land on the backs of your thighs, exasperated as he began to rant, “I am still sorry for being the shittiest neighbor ever. I had no idea you had an exam that day but it didn’t really matter I shouldn’t have done that anyway and—”

“Jin,” You trusted your balance enough to flick a socked foot backward at his face, “Hand me the lights.”

Seokjin whined into handing you the rolled up wires, “You didn’t let me finish.”

You sighed, tossing the outlet end of the lights down the side of the cabinets before beginning the meticulous weave through each of the rungs on the cabinet.

“Proceed.”

“I was going to say I still owe you some more fresh baked cookies,” He grunted when you shifted and squeezed your thighs, “but I’m really not sure that I’m sorry anymore.”

He regarded the work you’d done around the small common area with a critical eyebrow, standing shoulder to shoulder with you as he took in your surroundings. The lights had proved easier to weave than the garland, now on and twinkling between the tiny bits of artificial green. You’d hung a few leftover bulbs for good measure, tucking them back into the greenery. A tiny tree, one you’d fished out of forgotten presents in your hall closet, sat idle on the corner of the cabinet, directly next to the microwave that didn’t work and the sink that no one obeyed the don’t do your dishes here rule of. You’d looped the last of the multi colored lights to that short, fake vegetation, clicking settings on the little dial until the lights were programmed to a periodic flashing motion. The glitter all over the floor was simply a hazard of all the other decorations but it added to the ambiance, especially when the time curled dangerously close to the midnight hour, reflecting the blues of the snow outside through the glass windows lining each part of the common room before they disappeared into the individual hallways.

“Not bad,” Seokjin mused. You held your hand out, palm up for a high five.

“So…” You began once his hand touched yours, curling your fingers around his to hold him there, “...about those apology cookies you still owe me?”

“And I was under the impression you were a master chef.”

Seokjin’s eyes brewed a similar shade to the chocolate chips buried within the perfect block of dough he was breaking apart, regarding you under shaggy bangs that hung over his eyes.

“Generally, I am,” A high pitched squeak left his lips when a particularly difficult square cookie finally gave way to his prying hands, followed by a few more other noises as he spread that piece to the greased cookie sheet, “but on account of the time and the worst ice storm in the history of the city, I can’t exactly go get fresh ingredients.”

You leaned against his counter top, watching as he spread the rest of the premade cookies across the sheet. The festive oven mitt was shrugged on until it rested across his wrist, doing a dramatic twirl across his kitchen to place the pan in the oven.

“A master chef would have bulk supplies for potential winter storms,” Your palm cradled your chin, “No?”

Seokjin tossed the oven mitt so that it slid across the counter, smacking into your elbows and in turn making you flinch. There was a grin plastered to his features when he tottered over to retrieve it, murmuring, “Sorry, darling. Thought I could make to—” He flicked open the part in the cabinet below you before slamming down the fabric and slamming it shut, “—the drawer.”

“Ramen, popcorn, and premade cookies,” You tapped your fingers in succession against your bottom lip, “Quite the array of food to have until it clears up outside.”

“I have other stuff,” Seokjin defended, motioning toward the top half of his refrigerator on the far adjacent edge of the kitchen, “Some French toast sticks, a frozen pizza or two. I think there’s a box of instant mashed potatoes somewhere around here…”

“Master chef,” You nodded.

“Precisely,” He shoved himself up off the counter, hands braced on the edge and elbows locked as his head lulled to the side, “Going to have a holiday feast tomorrow night.”

“Enjoy it.”

“You aren’t coming?” You blinked at him until he added, “I mean, you can come over if you want. We can pretend to exchange presents or something. I’m sure I can spare an alpaca figurine. You might be worth it.”

Part of your body went numb with the realization that you’d now have an excuse to give him his present, the one that had tumbled to the middle of your hallway when you’d carelessly yanked your tiny tree from your hall closet. You ignored it to joke stiffly, “Frozen pizza and a present that may or may not be a tiny alpaca? How can I resist that?”

A fond smile curled into a tiny half circle on the plump seam of Seokjin’s lips, pressing into the cute indentions of his cheeks as he looked away from you. His eyes instead went to the screen of his phone that he dug out of his back pocket.

“It’s late,” He said after a moment, still not quite looking at you, “If you want to go home, I’ll save the cookies for tomorrow.”

“You won’t eat one without me?”

“Not even a crumb,” Seokjin vowed, looking at you now with a hand dramatically slapped over his heart.

“I’ll be able to hear if you do,” You half threatened, slowly moving to where your keys were.

His nose wrinkled when you bumped into the side of the couch, eyes glinting.

“Won’t taste as good without you, anyway.”

You contemplated the gift package in your hand for far longer than you considered the red and white striped fuzzy socks tucked nearly up to your knee caps. Whether that was a good or bad thing on your part, it cost you another half a roll of wrapping paper as you tore open the gift, considered not taking it, thought to take it again, hid it underneath the scarf you’d gotten one of your cousins, and finally swallowed your pride to tuck it under your arm and go the short distance to Seokjin’s place.

“He was joking about the alpaca thing,” You conversed with yourself in the first two footsteps out your front door, “You’re going to look silly bringing him a gift that you bought months in advance. Who has this just laying around, anyway—”

That was the first thing Seokjin said when he opened the door too. “Oh. You brought a gift—” He nudged the door a bit wider to coax you inside, “—not anything that could be considered payback for all my neighbor crimes, is it?”

You bypassed the insinuation of his hanging guilt to instead hyper-fixate on how his hair was stuck up in a few different directions, his holiday sweater bunched around his waist, and the way his teasing smile didn’t quite meet his eyes. He looked nearly as disheveled as he had when you’d swept his pet up in a navy blue towel after he was sure he’d lost it forever. You paused halfway in the threshold, nearly pressed against his chest.

“Are you okay?”

Whatever remaining resolve that Seokjin had been putting forth crumpled in that moment, stature slumping off the door so that it swung to a hard close behind both your figures. His hand was in his hair again, tresses poking in more awkward angles between his digits.

“I think Gukmul is sick,” His hand shifted to his nape, “He hasn’t ate since you left yesterday. And he’s being lethargic.”

“You think it was the apple I gave him?”

“Some of the other pieces were browning but,” Seokjin’s hand fell limp to his side and he shrugged, “I don’t know. It’s probably nothing I just…”

“Okay, so we take him to the vet,” You placed your gift aside to reach for your phone, tapping away at the screen, “I’m sure there’s a twenty-four hour clinic somewhere that’s open on Christmas Eve.”

“Darling,” He touched your hand, thumb stroking between your knuckles, “It snowed a couple extra inches last night. How are we going to get there?”

“Drive? If we take it slow—”

“In whose car?”

“...mine?”

Seokjin paused, “Are you in my spot again?”

You slumped under where his hand touched yours, “We don’t have time to play the penis game again—”

“I’m just kidding,” His fingers laced around your wrist, squeezing, “I could easily drive us too, then…”

“I’ll drive. And, I have something to help us—” You dislodged his grip on you to reach for your present, tearing easily into the newly wrapped sides to reveal the box inside. Seokjin protested the whole time but you ignored him, slicing the tape with your thumb to digging inside.

It was a fanny pack essentially, bright pink with stark black zippers and a black strap with a plastic buckle. The front pouch was sheer netting, enough so that you couldn’t see inside but enough that the creature inside would be able to breathe. You thrust it toward his chest, “Here.”

“It’s supposed to be a carrier for Gukmul,” You explained lamely, “You know, so you can take him out of the apartment and not lose him. Or get busted by Hoseok.”

“Oh,” He took it into his grasp, gently turning it in his hands, running his fingers across the zippers, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I got it a long time ago,” You winced at your own admission, “and in pink too. You seem to like that color.”

“I do,” Seokjin blinked from the pack to you, “Thank you.”

“Of course. Now go get Gukmul, I’ll go warm up the car.”

“Oh. Oh,” He stumbled over himself in an effort to shrug the strap over one shoulder, “Right. Okay, right, I’ll meet you out there. Be careful on the ice!—”

Thirty minutes to what was normally a ten minute trip later and the vet was descending behind an ominous looking door with that navy blue bundle curled against her chest. There were a few fishtails and a handful of instances where you didn’t think your vehicle could make it up inclined streets in between stop signs but Seokjin’s knuckles hadn’t been nearly as white then as they were with your hand pressed between both his palms..

He leaned against you, turning your palm over in his lap to trace gentle fingers across the lines in your palm. You let him, leaning too until your heads touched. His leg bounced in time with sighs he took to attempt to calm his breathing.

“You know, I’m really glad our flights got canceled,” Seokjin said, lacing his fingers through the spaces in yours to pat your intertwined appendages against his thigh, “That sounds horrible. I mean I just....am glad you’re the one who lives next to me, is all.”

“Up until a few months ago, I couldn’t really say the same about you, you know,” You flexed your fingers in his grip.

“I was a dick at first on accident. Then I thought it was entertaining. You never seem that bothered by me. If you were, I assumed you would have told Hoseok and I would have had complaints on my file or something. But you never did so I just...figured you went along with my stupidity because you enjoyed it too. Until that day you cried…”

“It’s okay, you know,” You shifted on his shoulder to peer at the side of his face, “You don’t have to keep apologizing for that. I wasn’t going to get an A in that class, anyway.”

“The exam wasn’t the point. The point was that I teased you like I knew you. Like we were friends or something. And it turned out I didn’t know you at all. I didn’t even know you went to university.”

“...I didn’t know you but I wanted to know you,” Seokjin swallowed, squinting up at the paw print shaped clock on the far wall from where you sat, “Your presence was just...strangely comforting. Knowing that you could hear me being dumb almost felt like I had a roommate. Like I wasn’t alone with myself.”

“That’s why Gukmul means so much to me, aside from the fact that he’s a part of my family. He reminds me that I’m something larger than myself. That I’m not constantly alone.”

“I guess what I’m trying to say is thank you,” Seokjin’s chin pressed to his neck to smile down at you, “For being here with me. For putting up with me. Indirectly and otherwise…”

“And I’m sorry I was such a shit neighbor for so long. It was like I reverted back to middle school—” He gestured with the hand that was still twisted around yours, “—you know, tease the person you like and that’ll make them understand that you like them.”

“You weren’t and aren’t a shit neighbor,” You assured, nudging your nose against the underside of his collarbone, “You bring the same kind of comfort for me, you know.”

“You know how many times my friend Taehyung told me I should turn you in? So many times,” You shrugged, “You’re kind of annoying but nothing unbearable. It’s part of what makes you charming.”

“Thanks,” Seokjin laughed dryly and you smiled when a part of his natural wheeze came out in the giggle.

“I just got used to you. It felt weird if I couldn’t hear something going on over there...if my printer wasn’t whirring to life at the most inopportune times…”

“Why do you think I said up until a few months ago? I realized that I—” You nuzzled your cheek against his jacket so he couldn’t see your face, “—kind of liked you too. I mean, hello I bought you a gift in advance. I don’t even buy my family presents in advance.”

“Sounds like we should talk more outside of bluetooth printing, vague wall knocks, and horrible Spotify playlists,” Seokjin playfully jostled you on his shoulder.

You curled your free arm around his elbow, snuggling in closer to his side, “We definitely should.”

You sat in the silence that came with observing the basket of haphazard animal magazines and the children’s play maze that consisted of tiny wooden beads on twirled metal tracks, the whisker hands of the cat shaped clock stuck to the front of the reception desk ticking by unbearably slow. The paw print clock showed the same drag of time, the ticking of the second counter in time with the bounce of your own leg.

Time means it’s something bad. Or it’s nothing. Or it’s something and it’s small. Of course, bringing him here was going to take time but—

“Looks like your little buddy here just had a tummy ache,” The vet reappeared holding your towel, the only difference being that there was a small white head now peeking up from between the rolled center. What was once lethargic was now energetic, head darting back and forth at he new surroundings with his tiny nose twitching to the overwhelming smells. “He puked a bit of something up but took to the carrots I fed him like he’d never ate before…”

There was a bit more exchange between the owner and the vet as she passed Gukmul into Seokjin’s care, just a reminder to keep an eye on him for at least another twenty-four hours and the instructions to give her a call on her personal cell phone if anything got worse. The exchange of credit card information, a few shards of carrot for the road, and Gukmul was bundled back up into his new pouch laid across Seokjin’s chest. He chattered happily on the careful trek to the care, noise happily placed between munches on the carrot the vet had given him.

You scratched underneath Gukmul’s chin before Seokjin closed the wire gate to his cage, standing so that he could drape an arm across your shoulders.

“I think he’s a faker,” Seokjin said finally, watching as the sugar glider hopped away into one of his hanging toys.

“Be nice!”

“What?” He grinned when you turned to him to swat his shoulder, “Had us risk our lives in the middle of an Antarctic winter storm just to get a couple shards of carrot. I would have bought him carrots after everything melted—”

You tugged on the lapel of Seokjin’s jacket, cutting him off long enough to roll onto your toes to plant your lips softly to his cheek. “It’s okay,” You soothed, brushing your thumb over where a blush spread outward from where your lips had touched his skin, “We made it, didn’t we?”

“Wait! That reminds me!”

You startled with the intensity that he blurted the statement, stepping back when he stepped away from you, too. You stood rooted in the spot as he stumbled around his bedroom, coming back with a piece of stationary in hand, one of red and green speckles this time. Black ink was written neatly to the paper this time, looping letters complete with the normal heart next to his signature at the bottom.

“It was a scavenger hunt but I don’t have the patience to wait while you do the other steps so—” Seokjin gestured vaguely to the paper in your hand, “—that’s the last clue.”

“Go to the kitchen,” You read, lifting your eyebrows first before your gaze, “Quite the clue.”

“Hush, do you want your gift or not?”

“I—”

You faltered when he began to direct you with hands firmly set on each of your arms, steering you out of his room, down the hallway, and around the bend of the kitchen. It was a push and pull, forward a few steps on the tile, backward toward the plate of cookies he’d arranged on a plate shaped like a snowflake, forward one step and finally his grip left you.

“Okay, turn around. And look up.”

You saw his red tipped ears first, a color that spread over the entire surface of his skin in each area the longer he tried to smile at you. When you didn’t budge, his eyes flicked upward a few times, then his head jerked, then he blatantly pointed until you laughed.

“My present is a kiss?” You giggled, stepping closer to him.

“Yes, of course,” Seokjin’s pink features told a different story than the way he confidently reached for your waist, drawing you against him, “Only the best for you.”

“I didn’t think Gukmul was going to get sick and we were going to have this weird confession session in the lobby of the vet’s office. This was me, what do they say...shooting my shot?” One hand came up to cup your cheek, “I was going to lure you in here naturally with my impeccable charm but...this is cute and romantic too? Right?”

You touched your lips to Seokjin’s to dispel the last of uncertainty that still saturated heavy in his tone.

#bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts imagine #bts x reader #bts fluff #seokjin imagine #seokjin x reader #jin imagine #jin x reader #seokjin fluff #jin fluff #fic: footnote better together #i hope u enjoy!!! as always lmk what u think :-)

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cartoonfangirl1218 · 3 years

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Riverdale should have been a Disney show

Riverdale should have been a Disney show. There I said it. I'll admit the first season was fine Great even. Self-contained with an intriguing mystery and you waited at the edge of your seat for what will happen next. But then... Part of the problem for me is because I've read the original comics since I was a girl. I still do get some from my mom, and the way they have changed the characters just bug me.Betty used to be the girl next door, always hopeful, smart, trying to figure out the mystery. And it was perfect that she was a reporter because Betty was always someone who valued honesty so her being the roving reporter was perfect. And her taking pills for anxiety or some sort of disorder was also a nice take because she does take on so much, and tries so hard to help and be good and nice and perfect. All the stress. Archie was also great in the first season. A bit horny, but he means well, and he truly is an average American boy so his big trouble of choosing between music and football. He's a klutz and sometimes his plans go sideways but he means well, he's all for family and Riverdale and school spirit. None of this whole Red Hood/semi mafia/wrestling nonsense. I actually really liked their take on Veronica, she still a bit materialistic and thinks she can depend on her wealth to get her out of trouble but I do like their take on trying to be enterneauripal and working to act less high class society girl as she was used to.

Jughead, I'm conflicted with. Because he's good I guess as a brooding, investigative journalist he's good. It fits the setting of the show. But I do have a soft spot for him as the sane man to Archie. Going about his business, surprisingly philosophical. And you can't forget the most important attribute to him. His love of food! I miss that. Like the one scene in season 1, I forget what exactly but basically he ordered burgers and when Cole Sprouse just protectively held the burger to him...such a nice touch. That sort of guy I can see as a DCOM. The genius ditz I guess it's called. But he's not dumb. He just prefers napping to being awake.

Now the others...omg.I have a bone to pick when it comes to the other characters in Riverdale. Josie and the Pussycats-- they are such lively musicians who solve crimes, sometimes in space. ABsolutely wasted here. Melody barely had any lines. And they didn't have Alex or Alexandra Cabot which was such a shame. I know, I know they're in the new Katy Keene show but having them be step-siblings who used to date is wrong and weird and bad and no! Stop having the twins in these shows with vaguly incesteous feelings. It's weird!

Kevin Keller, all his storylines revolve around his bfs or lack of bfs or how much he wants a bf. The Kevin of Archie comics was so much more well-rounded. He was head of ROTC, he was class president, he ran marathons, he was Veronica's bff, he was a reporter. He had an appetite to match Jughead's. He even had a brief crush on Jughead! He was so much better than this sham. He was confident in who he was and did his best to help others feel good about themselves too because he knows not everyone is lucky to come out as LGTBQ in a supportive environment.

Reggie. I think not giving him enough of an arc in season 1 really backfired because if he appears, it's only as Veronica's arm candy. Which is a shame because he is a good contrast to Archie. A bit richer yet a cheapskate. Thinks he's a casanova, loves being the class prankster. A modern day politician with his sweet words when all he cares about himself. Basically like

Yet he has his hidden depths with his neglectful workaholic parents and jealousy of Archie's popularity. Cheryl. Omg Cheryl. They have ruined you here. I'm sorry, I do NOT find any of her lines iconic. It's like she swallowed urban dictionary and a gothic novel and came out all jumbled in a google translate. She may be abused but the way she still treats others like shit and gaslights her gf and makes everything about her is just...ugh!!! OMg, comics Cheryl is actually fun and iconic. She's as rich and pretty as Veronica and unafraid to use it. She wants to be a star like a modern day influencer. She's a red-haired Sharpay Evans basically.

Also Jason, her twin whom they sadly killed off. He was also fun like a meaner, snobbier version of Reggie. But with a huge crush on Betty which I think could have been used to milk such drama.

Polly also got hit badly. She was a good older sister. She was a reporter, and inspired Betty's enviormental-feminist activities. A sane person. Not a cult worshipping cuckoo. Toni Topaz, ah she was so good in season 2 and then they made her Cheryl's arm candy. Alas. I liked her as a friend to Jughead. In the comics, she was his equal in food contests. That's no small feat. She was cool, and joined Betty's band and... she was her own person. Remember when Toni used to be a photographer for the South Side paper. Yeah. Basically Toni as a 3d character with personality. Please return.

Dilton. Oh Dilton. Once the smartest person in the Archie universe and they turned you into a survival freak to get killed by the gargoyle king. Or whomever. I just remember he got killed somehow. Honestly, they should have stuck to smart Dilton. They need a smart scientist there, cuz no one is using their brains in Riverdale.

Chuck. They have done you SUCH A DISSERVICE! So so bad. Chuck was a good person! He was a cartoonist, and a basketball player and Archie's friend. (Yeah, that's right Archie has friends in the comics. Even though Riverdale makes some effort to show Archie and Jug's bond, they're mainly consorting with their gfs. In the comics, they had guy nights. Reggie, Chuck, Kevin, Dilton, Moose. Come on show. Friendships are just as important.) And what did they do, make him a lying scumbag, turn him good and then have him arrested because of what Cheryl did! No, no no. Bad writers. Just no. Ethel Muggs. You have also been wronged in season 3. Making her a crazy freak. Ethel in season 1 was nice. Ethel in the comics is nice. Plain but with a good heart even though she had a slightly obsessive crush on Jughead. Here, making her cult worshipper.... smdh. Okay at this point I know I sound like a bitter, bitter person complaining how it'S nOt liKE tHe cOmICs. But hey, I admit season 1 was good even if they changed the characters a bit. It’s just that I watched Riverdale because of the property it derived from. Because of the comics. At the least I expected some faithfulness to the characters. Not make them all so inconsistent and crazy.

It's just the writing is so inconsistent! The plots hop around and so do their moods. Bughead and Choni broke up for one episode and then they got right back together. Even though they had VALID reasons to break up. Nope. That made fans mad. So they had to get back together. Ugh. And Archie got attacked by a bear and was so traumatized that he broke up with Veronica because "he's changed" for like two episodes before forgetting about it and going back to Veronica. Oh which brings me to the ridiculous "love triangle" of Archie/Reggie/Veronica where she couldn't choose. Please, Archie and Veronica were reuniting and planning to go run away for a weekend together. Reggie was completely forgotten until he walked in on them. And Veronica couldn't decide because she loves them both? No, she didn't. She may have felt bad to tell Reggie but it's not because she loved him. Forgetting a guy so quickly...yeah great proof of love. Horniness maybe. But her indecisiveness makes her look bad. Don’t tease a will they, won’t they when the answer is so obvious. If you're going to do something like that, you should have there be something called CONSEQUENCES! They can get back together but at least wait. Wait 8 episodes at least so they can have character development. But who am I kidding. Character development is not the goal of this show. The character's just move because the writer's want them too not because it fits their personalities. Such as Archie's grieved reaction for baby Teeth in season 3.

Not only do I have no idea when (the ridiculously named) Baby Teeth appeared, much less why Archie or I should care about his death. But sometimes the show juggles too much. Too many characters. Too many plots. It's all so ugh!!! So my final thought on this is... Riverdale should have been a disney channel sitcom. Archie comics are about family friendly entertainment and sometimes imparted lessons... well so does Disney. I get the appeal of having Riverdale reach a new teen generation, but from what I can see the only big thing Riverdale on CW is that it allows alcohol and gartituous sex scenes.

Which is another small gripe of mine. I can handle sex scenes (hello Magic Mike XXL) but so many at such inappropriate moments too It's like that scene in an action movie where they suddenly kiss when they should be running for their lives. No teen is that horny all the time. Plus there's always less is more. If one kisses so much it loses the meaning. If you think your shirtless Archie is going to distract me from lack of plot haha. No. Plot and consistency still sucks and shirtless Archie does not make it better.

But Riverdale as a Disney show can work. After all the comic stories are a bit formulaic. It's all high school hijinks. And all the characters fit an archetype. Archie, the protagonist. Veronica, the fashionista. Betty, the reporter. Jughead, the slacker. Reggie, the class clown/bad friend. Cheryl, the Sharpay, Kevin, the sane one. And if people want a season long story arc with dramatics, Disney can actually handle it too. After all they had the mysterious "threat' lurking in the background of My babysitter's a vampire season 2. Or the Juliet and Mason saga of Wizards of Waverly Place. And if people want adult situations, look on to Jessie. Rewatching an episode now, there were so many adult jokes and references that flew over my head so they could sneak those in. Heck, Disney channel is infamous for all the innuendos they manage. And they handle consistency. Cody and Bailey broke up in Suite life on deck, they actually stayed broken up for a good half season. Gabe matured from a prankster tween to teen in love in Good Luck Charlie. Actions have consequences, characters grow. Storytelling 101

And the best part is they don't even have to think too hard for the plots of the week. They literally can build on stories from the comics. All 80 years of it. And I have put some examples right here from my own Archie comics. Like Veronica literally being the fashion police.

Veronica and Cheryl teaming up + rolling around in their money.

Cheryl changing the Cherry Blossom Festival to the Cheryl Blossom Festival

Archie doing his classic Valentine's Day mix up

Veronica and Betty buy Cheryl’s maid service when her father forces her to get a job.

Jughead and Trula (Jughead's nemesis & psychoanalyst in training) get amnesia and become friends.

A boy dares to change Veronica

Jughead falls in love with the lunch-lady

Betty and Veronica pretending to be distressed damsels to get Archie's attention (it backfires)

Toni and Jughead foil each other in a food eating contest.

Betty's cast causes more pain to other students

Reggie dates Cheryl (for real)

Reggie helps Kevin dress for the dance and his mystery date

Riverdale Shore.

Cabot vs Lodge

I think all this pretty much illustrates my point. Archie comics equals Disney sitcom all by itself.

#Anti Riverdale #my opinions #random musings #salty rant #archie comics

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k-s-morgan · 3 years

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You have this idea that Harry needs to be obsessed with Tom to not leave him after the latter does something unforgivable, but I don’t see that as being true. Harry knows who he’s dealing with. And he is a man with a mission...I don’t imagine him ever abandoning it. Even if he didn’t love Tom he would stay because of his sense of duty towards his unborn loved ones. 2/8

Something I love in book Harry is that Voldemort’s darkness doesn’t faze him: “I won’t blast people out of my way just because they're there," said Harry. "That's Voldemort's job." 3/8

Like...where did that Harry go!? Your Harry seems to clutch at his pearls at the mere idea of Tom being a murdering asshole like... honey! That doesn’t make any sense.. he know this man all his life, saw the worst of him over and over again, the hell he’s surprised for?! And no, I am not buying the whole he was tricked by Tom’s oh so clever mask because book Harry is suspicious of everything! He gets obsessed! self-preservation mixed with a raw instinct that something isn’t right. 4/8

We teach people how to treat us. and Harry? He taught Tom to disregard his feelings. It’s the Dursleys all over again. unforgivable. 5/8

I was supposed to want harry and Tom to end up together but I don’t. No story I have read so far—no matter how messed up—managed to kill this ship for me, until I read this one. When they kissed I felt nothing. I suspect that when they finally end up together I won’t feel a thing either, you managed to kill any empathy I had towards the characters. 6/8

Sadly, I will stop reading your story. if you told me months ago that I would, I would’ve laughed out loud, but I just can’t be further disappointed anymore. I will forever treasure the first few chapters you posted, because they are perfect. It’s everything I felt as an obsessive/possessive child, but lately I felt nothing but a repulsed detachment from Harry’s constant whimpering. 7/8

If I learned something from my own experience it would be: Possessive people don’t need people who can’t handle their darkness, just keep that in mind, and please, please listen to criticism. You seem to only listen to people who agree with you, I saw you right off genuine criticism of Harry’s actions as silly frustration from your readership. It isn’t. You know something is wrong with your characterisation when more than one person gets hot and bothered about it. 8/8

---------------------------

I didn’t get the first part of your ask, so I’m publishing the ones that went through! Though to be honest, I’m not sure what you want me to tell you. I’m writing a dark and twisted story, one that’s definitely not for everyone. You can think or feel anything you do toward it - that’s normal. I’ve read my fair share of fics that made me rage-quit or made me depressed for days, and that’s fine, too, because we have our individual perceptions, likes, dislikes, and triggers.

I’m taken aback by your words that I shrugged off the criticism of Harry as silly. I addressed the message I got about it with respect and attention, writing an essay-long reply to explain my view and elaborate on my characterization. I don’t even consider this criticism, just differences in opinion: this is how I see canon Harry and the version he could become under certain circumstances. Harry was always forgiving. He was ready to move the world for people he loves. In WHGTB, he went back in time exactly because he wanted Tom to not grow up as Voldemort (and in many ways, he succeeded). In his understanding, he did everything in his power to make sure that Tom would not be a murderer, which is why he was stunned and devastated to learn that he failed here.There were no more victims after Beth, and Harry clings to the idea that his system is working, and that Tom will be able to hold himself off despite the situation he finds himself in. When Tom comes close to crossing the line, Harry is terrified, but he finds comfort in the thought that Tom stopped every time. Harry’s own morality became grey in this process, and to me, it’s believable in terms of his characterization.

I don’t agree that Harry is doing “constant whimpering” - I see him as actively fighting for Tom in every way he can (until the end, where he can’t take it anymore and leaves). Tom might have out-played him for now in a long-term perspective, but for years, Harry remained victorious because Tom was forced to follow his rules. I think Harry has objective expectations: he doesn’t wait for Tom to suddenly develop empathy and become a compassionate person. But he expects Tom to differentiate between acceptable and unacceptable, and to act accordingly. He remains highly suspicious to Tom’s actions, but he never expected himself to be the active target of Tom’s plotting.

You can hate it, be angry about it, think it’s OOC - that’s the matter of your perception. I have another one, and my story is obviously based on it.

Also, this part: “You know something is wrong with your characterisation when more than one person gets hot and bothered about it“ - actually, no, that absolutely doesn’t mean my characterization is wrong) It means it’s controversial enough to evoke different intense feelings in other people. Look at any semi-popular character in any book or movie - there will be lots of people arguing about their personality or decisions. That’s the beauty of fiction: it makes different people feel different things and reach different conclusions.

I’m sorry you aren’t enjoying the story any more, but of course it’s your choice. It’s not like I’m forcing anyone to read it) Like I always say, to each their own.

Edited to add: Also, to others who might decide to send me similar messages: even if you’re polite about it, I might not reply to you because I believe I’ve said everything I could about this matter here and in this post. I don’t have anything to add)

#my fics

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f1chronicle · 3 years

Text

The Lewis Hamilton Fallacy

With Lewis Hamilton setting a new FORMULA 1 win record, and closing in on a record-equalling seventh World Championship, the vitriol on social media has been increasing, causing many to no longer wish to participate in Facebook groups that tolerate driver-bashing and hatred.

So how did we get to this point?

There are many factors at play here such as most drivers having a big presence across social media, but a key premise is we all have a different model of the world.

How you see things is completely different to how I see things, and generally speaking, this is a good thing for society as we can all bring our different points of view to a scenario and find a way forward.

Sadly this is not the case in the comments of nearly every F1 group on Facebook, where people are adamant that their point of view is right, yours is wrong, and you’re an idiot for thinking the way you do.

Let’s take a look at some of the common arguments in F1 groups, and see if they hold water…

Driver X Is The GOAT!

The GOAT argument isn’t specific to the world of F1, just look at the NBA, where LeBron James fourth NBA title stirred great debate as to whether or not he takes the mantle from Michael Jordan.

In F1 we have Lewis Hamilton vs Michael Schumacher, 93 race wins vs 91, six championships vs seven.

So how do we work out who the GOAT is?

Well, we can’t.

And even when F1 and AWS put out their ‘Fastest Driver’ analysis it still didn’t appease people if their guy wasn’t deemed the fastest.

Different drivers, different competition, different cars, the list goes on.

What we can have though is our favourite, and our own criteria for choosing a GOAT.

Personally, I didn’t much enjoy the years where Schumacher and Ferrari dominated. However, he has the most titles so to me he is still the greatest.

Some say the best of all time is Jim Clark, some say Fangio, some say Ayrton Senna. But unless they have seen them race, how can they compare?

Because if they’re using statistics, well the numbers don’t add up.

If they’re using stories and YouTube clips, then they’re comparing some drivers highlight reels against other drivers careers.

The passing of time plays an interesting trick on the mind, where we often forget the flaws, the disappointments, and the losses, remembering only the triumphs and victories.

And that’s ok.

You can have your GOAT, I can have mine, and neither of us can (or should) try to convince others that their GOAT is wrong.

Lewis Hamilton Has The Fastest Car (Or Best Car)

This one is odd, as I’m yet to see a car that wasn’t the fastest win a race.

When Pierre Gasly won the 2020 Italian Grand Prix, on that day, his car was the fastest.

Maybe there is something in the air in Italy, as in 2008 Sebastian Vettel won in a Toro Rosso to claim his first win in F1. Funnily enough, on that day, his car was the fastest.

You wouldn’t think you’d need to explain how motorsport works, but what happens is the driver who crosses the line first, ie completes the race distance the fastest, wins. It’s that simple.

These ‘fastest car’ or ‘best car’ arguments add to the Lewis Hamilton Fallacy.

Formula 1 is a meritocracy, and as such, the best drivers usually find themselves into the cockpit of the best car.

From 2010 to 2013, it was widely acknowledged that Red Bull Racing were producing the best cars, as they powered Sebastien Vettel to four consecutive World Championships.

Today though, people are rewriting history as they claim Hamilton has ‘always’ benefitted from being in the best car.

So which one is it?

Because clearly it can’t be both.

The Good Old Days Were Better

This one is always fun, and is something that likely happens to all of us as we get older!

I’ve found myself opining that the English Premier League was better in the 90s and 2000s than it is now for example.

Often, the ‘good old days’ coincide with a time in history where our favourite teams and stars were winning. Funny about that.

Have you ever met a Ferrari fan who thinks the current era is better than the 2000-2004 period?

No, you haven’t.

However, where this one gets really interesting is when people argue that the drivers no longer drive the cars, and that everything is controlled by engineers sitting on a pit wall.

The problem with this is the Williams FW14B, built in 1992, is still considered the most technologically sophisticated car in the history of F1.

It’s 28 years old.

The FW14B had semi-automatic transmission, active suspension, traction control and, for a short time, anti-lock brakes.

It also had Adrian Newey in charge of aerodynamics.

In fact, Williams found the FW14B was proving so successful that when the FW15 was ready half-way through the 1992 FORMULA 1 season, it wasn’t used.

The argument (often made by people who reach their limit reversing out the driveway) that Hamilton turns up on a Sunday, plants his foot on the accelerator, and drives into the distance is disrespectful of the amount of work he puts in to keep his body and mind at peak performance, as well as the staff at Mercedes who put in countless hours perfecting the car.

Mercedes Should Get Max Verstappen, He Would Beat Hamilton

This would be a terrible idea for Mercedes, so it’s a good thing they don’t listen to public opinion on social media.

First of all, it sends a message to drivers in their development program that even if you progress through the program the seat will go to the big-name with more runs on the board.

Second, do you recall the Senna v Prost years?

Sure, Ron Dennis had two prodigious talents at his disposal, but the infighting, egos, and crashes out on course disrupted team harmony, causing factions in the garage and distrust at all levels.

Mercedes currently have the perfect set up, and it’s obviously working, as they pick up championship after championship.

As we’ve seen throughout history, having a genuine #1 and an able deputy leads to both Driver’s and Constructor’s Championships.

During the aforementioned ‘Schumacher Years’ of 2000 to 2004, he was the undisputed #1 and teammate Rubens Barrichello understood his role and performed it admirably.

Lewis Hamilton Doesn’t Have Competitive Teammates

Former Formula 1 World Champions Fernando Alonso, Jenson Button, and Nico Rosberg would probably all argue that they are competitive drivers, capable of going wheel to wheel with Hamilton.

And they would be right, because they have the race wins and championships to prove their credentials.

When Hamilton joined the grid in 2007 as a teammate to Fernando Alonso, the belief throughout the paddock was that Alonso was #1 and Hamilton would be there to learn the ropes in F1.

In reality, it didn’t work out like that.

As Hamilton performed well, taking podiums and race wins, tensions mounted, and boiled over at the 2007 Hungarian Grand Prix, where in the final qualifying session Alonso deliberately delayed Hamilton in the pits, ensuring he wouldn’t be able to get in one last run.

The pair didn’t speak for weeks after the incident.

At the end of the season, both drivers secured four race wins and 12 podiums. Clearly they were allowed to race each other, there were no team orders.

Funnily, after tensions thawed, in 2017 Alonso said “[Hamilton] was able to win with a dominant car, with a good car like 2010 or 2012, or with bad cars like 2009 and 2011. Not all the champions can say that”.

Is Alonso suggesting Hamilton hasn’t always had the best car?

Facebook commenters would disagree with the two-time World Champion…

In Jenson Button’s book ‘Life to the Limit’ Button goes into detail how competitive Hamilton was, and makes it clear that he too was there to win, not just to act as a rear-gunner for Hamilton. An interesting fact Button points out in this same book is that when Rubens Barrichello was his teammate at Honda, Barrichello had it written into his contract that they were equal drivers, he was not to be a #2…

When Hamilton moved to Mercedes for 2013, a move derided by many given Mercedes lacklustre performance in previous years, it was Nico Rosberg’s team.

There is evidence that team orders were used on at least one occasion in 2013, where at the 2013 Malaysian Grand Prix Rosberg was ordered to stay behind Hamilton in the closing stages, rather than fighting for third place. Hamilton felt the call was wrong, and that Rosberg should have been allowed to race.

During the 2014 Formula 1 season tensions again boiled over for Hamilton and a teammate, as several early exchanges throughout the season threatened to compromise both drivers title aspirations.

The pair had a wheel-to-wheel battle in Bahrain, a down-to-the-wire tussle in Spain, and made contact in Belgium.

In 2016, the year Rosberg won the championship, the two came together at the 2016 Spanish Grand Prix, in a move that infuriated Niki Lauda, as both drivers crashed out of the race.

The duo came together again at the 2016 Austrian Grand Prix, however both drivers could continue, with Hamilton taking the win.

Nice Rosberg went on to win the 2016 Driver’s Championship, which gives Hamilton detractors a curious dilemma.

On one hand they laugh, saying he was beaten by Nico Rosberg, yet on the other, they say he has never had to race against competitive teammates.

So, which one is it?

Lewis Hamilton Needs To Prove He Can Win With Another Team

This one always brings a smile to the face 😊

I have no problem with fans being new to F1, it’s great! The sport needs more and more fans to keep it going.

The issue is people forgetting that the sport was going before they saw it on Drive to Survive, then commenting on Facebook posts.

For the record, Lewis Hamilton won the 2008 Driver’s Championship with McLaren.

Although they had a Mercedes engine at the time, they were indeed their own team then, as they are now.

And that is a different team to Mercedes.

Hamilton has won championships with two teams.

Before the 2008 season Felipe Massa of Ferrari was the favourite to win the title, and Ferrari did indeed win the Constructor’s Championship, however, in a thrilling finish to the season Hamilton won the title by one point.

His teammate Heikki Kovalainen finished seventh.

But wait, doesn’t the best car always win the Driver’s Championship too?

Well now I don’t know what to believe.

Put Lewis Hamilton In A Williams, Let’s See How He Goes

If Hamilton was to drive for Williams, we already know how it would go – terribly.

Why?

Because it is a poor car that has suffered at the hands of bad management and a lack of finances for several seasons now.

Fernando Alonso drove a horrible McLaren from 2015 to 2017.

Jenson Button and Rubens Barrichello had a terrible Honda to drive in 2007 and 2008, and not just because it had a map of the world painted on it. The aerodynamics were poor from the start, and the car just wasn’t competitive.

Does this diminish any of these drivers achievements before or after?

Does it prove their car is what won them races?

No, what it does prove is that Formula 1 is a team sport, and that it takes everyone rowing in the right direction together to deliver a package capable of competing at the front.

If Lionel Messi signed for Newcastle they still wouldn’t win the league. Likewise if Lebron James joined the Knicks, they wouldn’t win an NBA title. The teams they would join are still terrible, but having a champion on the team would improve them and make everyone life their standards over time.

Hamilton wouldn’t win in a Williams, just like Raikkonen can’t win in an Alfa and Vettel can’t get near a podium in a Ferrari this year.

However, the one thing all these drivers have in common is the ability to wring every ounce of performance out of a bad car, and Williams would expect nothing less if they had Hamilton in their race seat.

Politics Don’t Belong in Sport

As a middle-aged white man, this one makes me cringe the most.

Middle aged white men on Facebook, telling a black man what he should and shouldn’t do, how he can protest, and how he is ‘ruining’ the sport for them.

Yikes.

The purpose of a protest is to bring issues to light, to have people questioning their attitudes and beliefs.

Telling someone how they can protest against their perceived suppression is, er, suppressing them further.

You may not agree with ‘We Race As One‘, the BLM movement or drivers taking a knee before the race, but that’s the point. An issue being highlighted is an opportunity for you to question your thinking, to reflect, and possibly make changes. There is no harm in admitting that at one time you held beliefs that you now feel are wrong.

While we’re on the topic of politics in sports and how the handful of minutes it takes to show drivers supporting the ‘End Racism’ message ruining peoples enjoyment of Formula 1, what of other sports?

The ‘Old Firm’ derby is one of the biggest rivalries in sport, and it is founded on religion and politics. People are born into a side based on which side of the clearly divisive line they fall, Catholic vs Protestant, British vs Irish Scot, Conservatism vs Socialism. People have been killed on derby days, and violence in Glasgow increases any time the two clubs play.

Politics don’t belong in sport though, so they must be fighting over something else.

In 1967 Muhammed Ali refused to serve in the US Army during the Vietnam War, uttering the famous line ‘I ain’t got no quarrel with those Vietcong…no Vietcong ever called me nigger.’ Since then he has, rightfully, been lauded as a hero for his stance.

The Vietnam War probably wasn’t political though, was it?

Even the sport of Bandy isn’t immune to politics!

Norway declined to take part in the 1957 Bandy World Championship because the Soviet Union was invited, due to the Soviet invasion of Hungary the year before. The country made a similar protest for the 1969 Bandy World Championship because of the Warsaw Pact invasion of Czechoslovakia that year, handing over the hosting of the 1969 event to Sweden.

Indeed Formula 1 itself is no stranger to politics in sport, with the 2011 Bahrain Grand Prix cancelled due to concerns over human rights protests led by Avaaz.

You may not agree with the stance Hamilton has taken, you may not like it, but you do have to respect that in a free society he can use his platform however he sees fit – he built it.

What To Make Of The Lewis Hamilton Fallacy

Now I’m not naïve enough to think that the words on this page will make everyone stop arguing on the internet, that will never happen.

What I do hope though is that it has loosened the grip for some people, and will help them take the blinkers off.

We’re lucky enough to be living in a time where each Sunday, one of the finest Formula 1 drivers the world has ever seen jumps into his Mercedes and puts his life on the line to win trophies, and entertain us.

I’m lucky enough to have seen this level of performance twice, once with Michael Schumacher, now with Lewis Hamilton.

Should I live long enough to see Hamilton’s records beaten, I won’t waste time arguing over who is the GOAT, who had the best car, or why this bright new talent needs to jump through made up hoops to prove themselves to the folks in the bleachers.

I’ll simply be grateful to have witnessed three drivers at the absolute peak of their powers, doing what they love.

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#Formula 1 news

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drlauralwalsh · 4 years

Text

Top 7 Recent Obsessions and 3 Freshly Intolerable Topics

Since my wife died in February, I’ve transformed into an obsessive recluse. I’ve always been a weirdo but now I’m a grieving weirdo. It takes eccentricity to a whole other level. Before, my obsessions were psychology and home improvement projects. Now, work is impossible and I break down trying to choose flowers at the local Home Depot. Removing every last dandelion from the yard is my glorious new passion.

Since I trust you, I’m going to tell you about some of the other strange occupiers of my mind. Like squatters, these topics have moved into my brain to fill up the unused rooms. I vacillate between kicking them out and kinda liking the company. Until new obsessions come along, I’ll play reluctant host to this ragtag collection of ideas.

1. Life After Life

It’s natural to wonder what happens to someone after they die. I’ve been doing some light reading (usually at around 3AM) on what psychic mediums think on the subject. Apparently, we continue life on the other side, often recreating the likeness of our earthly homes and possessions out of familiarity. In my wife’s afterlife, I hope she made some improvements. She’s likely finally found the perfect couch (comfy yet stylish!) and is no longer taunted by the daily dog hair tumbleweeds.

I have a few questions. Does my wife get to meet celebrities? She’d be totally psyched to meet Dolores O’Riordan, the lead singer of The Cranberries, who died in January of 2018. Did she get to watch the last season of Homeland that aired after she died? Can she still water a lawn in contemplative meditation? Most likely, she’s cavorting with her first girlfriend, Suzy. I’m told Suzy was a little crazy in her earth life so I hope she’s not a bad influence.

If I end up living a few more decades, I’ll probably grow and change substantially. Will Patty recognize me when I finally make the trip? Will she and I still be soulmates or will I have to share her? Like, did Suzy claim my wife as her soulmate? I don’t wish anyone loneliness in the after life but dang, I’ve got dibs.

2. Cookie Butter Therapy

If you’ve read my self care tips, you know I’ve found cookie butter solace. Listening to my body’s unique nutrient requirements, I heed the call for that smooth comfort. As a psychologist, it used to bug me when I’d see memes like, “I don’t need therapy, I’ve got wine!” Occasionally speaking aloud, I’d reply, “Hello future client!”

Now, I’m not so sure that retail, alcohol or food therapy is all that bad. I mean, it IS bad in that it doesn’t solve the problem and could turn into something worse. But if keeping your head above water saves your life, perhaps I should reconsider these stopgap measures. Personally, I’m planning a future half marathon to combat the future cookie butter problem. And by planning, I mean it’s on my list to look up neighborhood jogging routes.

3. Signs from Beyond the Veil

After my Dad died in 2002, I looked for evidence that his energy was still around. Losing a spouse takes it to a completely new desperation. Again, according to psychic mediums, we can ask our departed loved ones for specific signs and they will try to send them to us. Oh the pressure! Being an overachiever, of course I wanted to come up with the perfect sign to request from my wife. One that hits just the right balance of inside joke and everlasting love.

To get the ball rolling, I picked the first thing that came to mind. I asked my wife to send me a maroon Nissan Rogue SUV. Weird, I know - but also the perfect symbol of our family. I’m not that great at these requests just yet so I hope she knows I’m asking to see one, not get one as a gift. Years ago, she borrowed my maroon Nissan for a road trip with two little boys who would become my step kids. Having not yet met, questions about the car’s owner became a convenient way to talk about Mama’s new sweetheart.

I started seeing this car EVERYWHERE. There’s this one little problem, though. Have you ever heard of confirmation bias? Psychology Today says, “Confirmation bias occurs from the direct influence of desire on beliefs. “ Basically, I started seeing the car because I wanted the sign from her. The overly enthusiastic part of my brain said, “Yeah, but wouldn’t she also FLOOD the world with whatever sign you requested????” Next time, I’ll ask for money.

4. Meditation

After all the grief festivities were done (i.e. initial horror and subsequent wake and funeral), one of my besties recommended the book, Proof of Heaven by Dr. Eben Alexander. The author is a smarty-pants neurosurgeon who had a near death experience. He woke up out of a coma, wrote everything down, and set about trying to disprove the platitudes he once touted to patients. Anyway, a fascinating book and GREAT for the active griever in your life.

Veering from his conventional colleagues, Dr. Alexander’s career diverged towards the path less taken. He’s now involved in projects with the founders of Sacred Acoustics, a brainwave entrainment audio recordings company. That’s a fancy way of saying guided meditations with binaural beats that create experiences. There’s one that facilitates “communication with spirits across the veil.” Since I’m obsessed with getting back with my wife without leaving my kids and dogs, I became a convert.

Before Patty died (AKA BPD), I was known to dabble in mindfulness and may have claimed I meditated for longer and more often than I actually remembered to do. Don’t judge me, I was a busy mom! With a renewed desperation and time on my hands, I gave these wacky meditations a go. OMG, y’all they are amazing. I dare say I’ve done a little cavorting with my wife (at least in my mind). Seriously, between ADHD and grief brain, I can still knock out a 38 minute ‘Love Body’ meditation, no sweat. In the least, it’s a crutch over the rough spots.

5. Crafty Crystal Suncatchers

I haven’t gone off the deep end (yet) and meditated while balancing my chakras (okay, maybe once) with family heirlooms. If you read more than one book about the afterlife, you’ll pick up on themes. Psychics love auras, butterflies, and RAINBOWS. Since I’ve got time, I figured it wasn’t hard to put together my own suncatcher. You can certainly purchase these dandies but I prefer my own extremely amateur creations - especially since I need one for every window. Not sure what to do with these colorful messages from beyond but they are a comfort of sorts.

You may have gathered that I wasn’t previously into the paranormal. For instance, I knew that smudging was a thing but now, thanks to Etsy, I have my own kit. Same with healing crystals. As a child from a family of geologists, semi-precious gems, variegated rocks and hefty quartz crystals already held a special awe. I must note that my grandfather never mentioned crystal suncatchers as a method for communicating with the dead. It’s all me who’s hoping for yet another channel where, through refracted sunlight, my wife asserts her presence.

6. Documentaries About Death

It’s a widow habit to categorize life events as ‘before’ and ‘after,’ We use these terms with a wistful air of melancholy apology. We didn’t create these terms but they’re used as handy shortcuts before launching into yet another story about our dead spouses. This next tidbit is about me, though.

I love documentaries but before, I’d skip over the downers. Who wants to watch a flick about eroding habitats when your lawn looks so good? Times change and now after, I’ve completely confused Amazon’s algorithms with my new entertainment searches. I find comfort in tragedy.

I recently watched The Bridge, a documentary on the world’s most dangerous suicide locale - the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco. Since it was built, upwards of 1,700 souls have leapt to their nearly assured demise. The doc profiles the families of people actually caught on film at the moment of decision. Should sound awful, right? To me, it’s soothing. Not the suicides, but hearing the family process the death. They’re in the soup with me. Their stories make me feel normal.

7. Unique Grave Decorations

I’m only sharing this with you because I know you’ll understand. I threw this one in the mix because I had a brief, but intense love affair with unusual grave decorations. Did you know you can get “grave blankets” to keep your loved one warm? Obviously more popular in northern climes, they're actually giant wreaths of evergreen branches to cover the gravesite. Sadly, they aren’t allowed in my wife's cemetery or I’d be all over it. She was always cold…..before.

Switching gears, turning towards the following topics is a sort of exposure therapy. They each flutter at the windows of my mind and blot out the light (which I need for rainbows). I might as well add them to the growing list of crap I have to deal with eventually. Just so you know, I’m not weird enough to literally keep a list (yet).

1. Birthdays, Holidays, and Other Horrible Occasions

I know they’re coming. I limped through some already. May holds the double whammy of Mother’s Day and my birthday. Despite the embarrassing lack of evergreen splendor, we’ll visit her gravesite where I’ve already smuggled in other decorative contraband. Since I buy presents for myself all the time, for my birthday, I generally request a tasteful yet classic homemade card. I’ll get through the anticipatory dread and trudge through the sewage of my lowered expectations. It’s only another 24 hours to get through.

2. Getting Married Again

I can’t even think about what’s next. Or rather who. When I do think about it, I feel sorry for the sad sap who’s attracted to the runner up spot. Here’s the thing, I think about getting married again ALL THE TIME. My fantasy only went as far as imagining waking up in a fully formed relationship. Because I loved being married to my wife, it seemed reasonable to want our life reinstated. As the days turn into months, finding someone new continues to stubbornly insert itself from outside my head. I blame Patty. She always insisted if she died first, she’d want me to remarry. Less charitably, I countered that if I died first, she could never remarry because I’m her one true love. She apparently wants the last word.

To be fair, I am only 45 years old. When my stepson asked, I told him I was going to marry the dogs. He just doesn’t want me to change my last name, so on that we’re cool. Like passing me a note, Patty’s best friend from high school also delicately floated the idea. Even my brother-in-law said he wouldn’t want me to pass up something special. They all want me to be happy. I don’t want to want to get married again. It feels like forcing myself into a loveless, arranged marriage. With my luck, I’ll live another forty years. Maybe I’ll feel differently if my wife sends me a convincing sign.

3. The Next Death

The completely self absorbed grieving person I’ve become can’t even think about the next shitburger tragedy that’s surely on its way.. You’d think I’d have a guess who it might be but you’re wrong. I never would have put my wife on the shortlist but here we are. With new obsessions hoarding space in my grieving mind, it’s too crowded to handle another disaster. So I just don’t think about it.

If you’re grieving too, I want you to know you’re not a weirdo. Or at least you’re a weirdo like all of us - another broken toy tossed onto Bereavement Island (like Fantasy Island but more sad). I was never particularly interested in psychics, grave ornaments or dead people (beyond famous authors). Grief turns you inside out until you no longer recognize the person you were before. It wasn’t so easy to tip me over and I certainly didn’t cry in public. Falling into grief is similar to falling in love. With both, I lost my appetite, deeply felt things I’d never felt before, and became completely obsessed. In the end, grief is just another stage of love. An unfortunate byproduct of the grandest home improvement project. I’m comforted to realize that even as I’m swept up by transient passions, I’m essentially the same loving partner at my core.

#grief #afterlife #psychics #weirdo

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bodegacowboy · 5 years

Text

Heartwork

I am aghast I almost forgot about NaruSaku day. Not even sure if it’s still going on (on tumblr) but if it is....Happy belated NaruSaku day. Here’s something I put together very quickly that was inspired (ripped off) by a P.G. Wodehouse short story and one or two Macy Gray songs.

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Custom dictated that every December the elder monk at the Fire temple and the Hokage of Konohagakure would each display a work of calligraphy that encapsulated their respective thoughts of the previous year. If the year happened to include an incoming Hokage-elect, the villagers would be treated to three works being put on display. The Hokage-elect would be given the privilege of brushing a phrase or a single kanji that encapsulated his or her thoughts for the upcoming year. Though most had forgotten the reasons why this tradition had begun, it was nevertheless held as semi-sacred to those inhabiting the leaf village.

Naruto felt nothing but gratitude as he lifted his ink drenched brush from the rather large and framed sheet of mulberry paper spread against one of the walls of the Hokage residence.

“What do you think of this one?” Naruto beamed.

Manuba Yamanaka gazed upon Naruto’s calligraphy with his face illuminated by a frown.

“I must apologize again that my criticism of your work has to be a little harsh”

“No worries Manuba, I am relying on your expertise.”

Naruto was not too familiar with the man who now cast a critical eye upon his work. Beyond Manuba’s familial ties to Ino, Naruto only knew what he had heard. He’d heard Manuba was an established artist readily accepted by Konohagakure’s bohemian elite. It was said by some that he had his finger on the pulse of the village's artistic vision.

“Your brushstrokes continue to come across lifeless, your words nor your spacing nor your characters truly live on the page.”

“I think it’s lovely.” Sakura said from the back of the room.

The customs of any festivities that involved a Hokage-elect were clearly defined by years of tradition. Every single activity that Naruto participated in that was directly or indirectly related to his future title was a ritual onto itself. Tradition recommended that Naruto complete his artwork in solitude, preferably after hours of quiet meditation and or contemplative prayer. Having a consultant for his art was a questionable act. Visitations from his girlfriend during the ritual was also pushing the envelope. For the sake of custom, compromises had been negotiated. The consultant was allowed two hours of Naruto’s time during the day. Girlfriends, or any other guests could also visit, but they weren’t allowed more than three steps into the entrance of the room where Naruto would be doing his duty. If they wanted to stay for awhile they could sit in a formal sieza position near the entrance of the room.

Manuba puffed his chest out. “Yes, perhaps it is lovely to the eyes of the amateur.”

Sakura was not fond of Manuba Yamanaka. From her seated position she had watched Manuba Yamanaka savage Naruto’s efforts. And he did so without a trace of empathy or leniency. Naruto still inflated with gratitude at being elected Hokage took the beatings with good humor. Sakura’s blood on the other hand had long since boiled.

“At least you both can agree that I wrote something. It’s something you can read. See that’s progress” Naruto grinned.

“Yes but progress isn’t always progress, do you understand?”

Naruto shook his head. “Manuba I am beginner. You’ll have to dumb it down for me.”

Manuba nodded. “Oh I know, I know. The fact that you are a beginner is readily apparent. That said, your defects are not so much technical as they are emotional. It doesn’t engage the audience, it doesn’t make them feel enough.”

“What do you feel when you look at it?” Naruto inquired.

“I feel bored. I feel common.”

“That’s not enough feelings?”

“The work, it should speak to the hearts and minds of the audience, it should speak life!”

“Is my calligraphy not speaking?”

“It is speaking...in it’s own way.” Manuba grimaced.

“What is it saying?”

“To be frank it is saying ‘I am written not by a Hokage but by an unconscious plebeian.’ Of course I say that with all due respect.”

“Of course.” Naruto nodded.

“You should heed his advice Naruto, Manuba Yamanaka is a true artist.”

Naruto turned and despite the length of the distance between them he found himself startled by the cold glint in Sakura’s eyes.

“Yes a true artist indeed Naruto, I’m sure you’re familiar with his famous works.”

“I uh...Unfortunately I haven’t seen any of Manuab’s stuff” Naruto stammered. “But I heard he is an up and coming star in the art world.”

“Yes...he is held in high regard among the art community. And why wouldn’t he be? He sold a painting to the Fire Daimyo.”

“Really?” Naruto said impressed.

“Indeed the daimyo’s household paid a hefty five dollars for the artwork. It’s a well known fact that the painting can be found in the daimyo’s palace, in the bathroom, right over the toilet.”

A tense silence crept into the room. .

With feigned cheerfulness Sakura turned to Manuba. “And of course Ino has told me you write the greeting cards that her parents sell at the flower shop.”

Naruto scratched at cheek. “Ah well I admit I have seen those. I’ve bought some for Sakura. I like them. They’re usually cute.”

Manuba cleared his throat. “Miss Haruno seems to be focused on my more commercialized works. My deeper more complex contributions have done much to spur on the current artistic movement that ....

“How could I forget!” Sakura exclaimed. “The police sketches that you do on the weekends for the Konoha military police.”

“Maybe it’s time for a break” Naruto declared.

Bowing stiffly the red faced artist stomped away from the Hokage-elect. He paused for a moment at the door just long enough to scowl at Sakura and then with his nose held high he departed the room.

“Hmmm your punches are sharp today Sakura.” Naruto stated.

“I’m sorry.”

Naruto shrugged, “Hey it wasn’t my ego you just KO’d. Are you alright?”

Sakura sighed. “I am fine. Look I will apologize to him...eventually. Really, it’s just that he was so horrid to you.”

“But he’s a great artist, it's only natural that he criticize.”

“Who told you he was a great artist?”

“I heard...”

“It’s all hype” Sakura snapped. “Most of it is coming from his friends.”

“Well he walks and talks like a great artist”

“He would.That doesn’t mean much.”

Naruto considered her point.. “So he’s not a genius?”

“He’s incompetent...in my opinion. But art is very much subjective Naruto.”

“How do you know all this Sakura?”

She hesitated before answering. “I’ve done some research on him. You’ve been very busy and joyful these last few weeks Naruto. You haven’t exactly paid a lot of attention to everyone around you.”

Naruto studied her with curious eyes before commenting musingly. “I see”

“It’s understandable. You’re preparing to fulfill your life’s ambition.”

A look of gratitude returned to Naruto’s face and a smile followed in its wake. “There really has been a lot going on lately.”

“You should get used to it. There will be a lot more to do after the first of January.”

His smiled deepened. “Yes, when I am sworn in as Hokage.”

Naruto looked off to the side and sighed deeply, happily. But when he looked back at Sakura the curious eyes had returned. “Are you sure you are alright?”

Sakura smiled back. “Couldn’t be better. I am happy for you.”

He nodded in silent appreciation before glancing back to his calligraphy “You think I can get this down before the ceremony?”

“I’m sure you will. And when you’re the Hokage you can do whatever you want...”

Eyebrows raised Naruto returned his full attention Sakura. “The Hokage can do whatever he wants? Why didn’t anyone tell me? Now I really can’t wait to be Hokage”

Sakura laughed softly. Naruto smiled thinly.

“Sakura....”

“Yes?”

“There is something wrong isn’t there?”

She sighed, she sadly sighed “Remember when you mentioned how people from other villages were mobbing Shikamaru because they were hoping to gain more access to you.”

“Yeah he hasn’t really been enjoying that kind of attention.”

“Were any of those people representing some of the more prestigious clans....were any of them proposing marriage alliances?”

Caught off guard by the question Naruto simply blinked in response. When he recovered as best he could all he could say was, “yes.”

He waited for a follow up question.

When no further questions came Naruto asked one of his own.

“How do you know about that?”

“I’ve been approached as well.”

Stunned, Naruto sputtered, “That’s crazy-I mean they..why-to you...I mean we’re dating.”

“They don’t really care about that” Sakura said cooly. “They just want to get in your ear. Get the message out there.”

“Sakura why didn’t you say anything about this?”

“I’m saying something now. I think it’s something you should consider.” Sakura said indifferently.

At a loss for words Naruto stared at her for a moment. Eventually he blurted out “WHAT?!”

“You should consider it” Sakura said.

Anxious laughter escaped from Naruto’s lips. “Wow these guys must be very persuasive.”

“They make sense, they make practical sense for you, for the village really. These are very logical, pragmatic opportunities that will be very beneficial for you, but more importantly for the village.”

“Sakura, I didn’t say anything because I wasn’t going to waste my time-you know I have to be honest, I am a little annoyed you are taking this so well.....”

“What? Did you expect me to hit someone?”

Naruto ran his free hand through his hair. “I wouldn’t expect you to hit anyone. But I wouldn’t be surprised if you did. At least In this specific scenario anyway.”

Sakura licked her lips. “Honestly I did punch the first representative. But then I thought well that didn’t really help anything. You will need these people politically right? In the future. So I was polite and I listened. By the fourth and fifth representative they were starting to make sense.”

Naruto shook his head. “Plenty of things sound like they make sense but that doesn’t mean they actually make sense Sakura.”

“I am just saying you should consider it. These people can be vital allies.”

Naruto pointed towards the entrance “Manuba Yamanaka is technically an ally and you destroyed him.”

“He was a hack who had no right being that awful to you!”

“Sakura I-” Nartuo stopped to draw in a breath, “My allies and my potential allies, they may have good intentions but they obviously won’t always know what is right for me.”

“Just think about it Naruto” Sakura said with a small voice. “Your future and the village’s future are linked.”

Naruto groaned out loud. “Yeah I’ve thought about my future and the big problem with this plan is the minor fact that I am going to marry you!”

Sakura’s eyes flashed with sudden surprise.

“Yeah you, I want to marry you!” He shouted. Then he paused and with sudden softness he said “well I mean, well you’d have to say yes first.”

Naruto dropped the paintbrush in his hand when Sakura suddenly burst into a flood of tears.

Bewildered Naruto stated, “I’m sorry - I-- I take it back.”

“No! Wait!” Sakura said before placing her face in her hands. “J-Just turn around I need some time to think.”

“Alright, alright.”

Picking the brush off the floor Naruto turned his attention back to the art. In a subdued mood he replaced the paper on the wall with a new sheet. He dipped the brush in ink and with slow methodical strokes he went to work. He’d just about finished the latest draft when he heard faint sniffing followed by a few big gulps of air. He waited to hear from her but when nothing came he resumed his work. Once he was finished he took a few steps back from the wall and knelt down before it.

“I’m sorry Sakura. I’m sorry you had to go through all that. They shouldn’t have insulted you like that.”

She responded with silence.

“You know we’ll be very happy if you say yes.” Naruto said with his back still turned to her.

Silence

“But I guess I have to consider that you may say no for whatever reason.

After a moment’s consideration Naruto continued. “You said before that I’ll have plenty to do as Hokage. That’s probably right. Maybe I’ll have enough to keep my mind off you.”

He drew in a deep breath and released it.

“But you know Sakura-chan it’s the heart that’ll be the problem.”

“You’ll have everything.” She said finally.

He shrugged. “Everything but what my heart wants. It’s my heart that wants you. It’s my heart that won’t forget. It’s my heart that loves you.”

Suddenly Naruto heard footsteps. Sakura strolled across the room and knelt beside him.

“I am an idiot” She said.

“Sakura....”

She looked up at his calligraphy.

“The future is in the air, the past is in the ground, all is right in Heaven and on Earth,” She read aloud.

“I’m not sure if it’s pessimistic or optimistic” Naruto said.

“It’s lovely”

“Do you think Manuba will like it?”

“I don’t care, it’s lovely.”

“But do you feel anything?”

“I feel foolish, but very much loved. I feel that I am in love with someone wonderful.”

“That’s great! But I don’t know if that has anything to do with the calligraphy. Does it speak to you?

“Yes.”

“What does it say to you?”

“It’s saying “I am written by the the man whom Haruno Sakura will marry. It says ‘she will be happily married to my author for the rest of her life’.”

Naruto laughed happily, “I am thrilled, but again I don’t know if that has anything to do with the calligraphy. How will the villagers feel about it?”

Placing her head upon Naruto’s shoulder Sakura said, “They’ll love it-or else they’ll deal with me.

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Welp that’s it. Leave a comment if you like it.

#narusaku fanfic #narusaku day #NaruSaku #narusaku fanfiction #narusaku day 2019

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gryphons-of-aentha · 4 years

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The Approximate Plotline of the Gryphonverse (pt. 1)

Because like. I’m never gonna actually write this shit in any form, it’s gotten too convoluted and weird and pretty much officially exists only as a collection of ideas and drawings, and I guess this blog now.

This is gonna be long as fuck, just so you know what you’re getting into behind this readmore.

The whole thing starts out as fairly standard, fairly tropey high fantasy-type stuff and takes place entirely on Aentha, centered around the country of Andolia, a fantasy-feudal country with a vaguely German bent, with added notes of French and Celtic. It’s populated almost entirely by aquei, which are the closest thing Aentha has to humans (and they are very close, I just couldn’t think of a reason to have actual humans evolve separately on a completely different planet when Earth and actual humans are also canonically a thing). It’s bordered on one side by sea and all others by wilderness that, for various reasons ranging from “it’s impassable and useless” to “it’s literally cursed and/or protected by powers we don’t want to fuck with,” remains virtually untouched by civilization and is at best halfheartedly disputed over with other nearby countries. There’s trade by sea but otherwise the country is fairly isolated from its neighbors. Anyway, Andolians don’t like gryphons. The ‘why’ of this situation isn’t really established, but they’re a rather xenophobic bunch, more so the further you get into the heart of the country. The people who occupy villages/homesteads closer to the borders are sometimes more chill about them, which is fortunate, because that no-man’s-land that the aquei don’t want is full of gyphons, because gryphons are both well suited to impassable mountainous regions, and not afraid to fuck with powers most other people won’t. The latter trait is probably a lot of the reason Andolians are wary of them at best and actively hate them at worst.

So at a certain point, circa 1980 in Earth time (which won’t become relevant for a long while yet but does matter since everything in this lore canonically occurs in real time alongside our world), a half-gryphon baby ends up in the custody of a small Andolian town. It’s too large and central to have had any previous contact with gryphons but still small and out of the way enough that nobody in the capital gives two shits what goes on there, so the existence of this gryphonic child goes largely unnoticed. What exactly happened to his parents is still not established and honestly doesn’t matter, but it’s Andolia, so the likely answer is “nothing good.” Gryphons who do venture into the country proper frequently meet unfortunate ends and people who willfully associate with them don’t do so great either. In any case, it’s likely that the aquei parent’s family were residents of this town and took in the kid, who was subsequently named Talon, because Andolians don’t really do subtlety with their naming conventions. The town proves to be a surprisingly supportive environment to grow up in, mainly on the logic of “if we raise this kid right we will never have to deal with the local bandit problem again because we’ll have a gryphon and nobody will want to fuck with us.” Incredibly, this Timon and Pumbaa logic actually works out, and Talon finds himself more welcome among small town Andolians than any gryphon has probably ever been because he’s quickly developed a reputation as a “good” one and turned into a local hero (though one that everyone in the region keeps kind of quiet about so as not to draw attention from the capital or anyone else who might not like it).

Eventually, some time in the late 90s Earth time, he meets Iadra, a full-blooded gryphon. They form a bond, eventually becoming definitive life partners, and Talon also reconnects more with the gryphonic half of his heritage through her. The townsfolk aren’t really thrilled about Iadra, and she’s not really thrilled about them, but they adopt an attitude of “I guess if Talon likes you, you can’t be too awful, guess you can hang around” to which she basically responds “appreciate the unbridled confidence in my character, but no thank you” and mainly stays on the outskirts and never really gets involved in aquei affairs to the extent Talon does, especially since the interspecies tensions are getting worse lately.

Meanwhile, as all this was semi-quietly going on in a small town nobody cared about, other things were semi-quietly going on directly in the Andolian royal court. The king, Shale, was really hitting it off with a woman who had just kind of shown up in the capital one day calling herself Ember. Through a combination of charisma and political shrewdness she managed to endear herself to most of the court and take on an unofficial advisor position, and also have an affair with the king. Eventually, circa 1989, this led to a son being born, who they named Ash (meanwhile, on Earth, Taylor Swift was being born, which isn’t important to this story it’s just something I realized just now and thought was really funny). The king had no other children at the time, so his first reaction was “hey, free heir” until it came to light that Ember was not wholly aquei, and in fact had some gryphonic heritage and so, by extension, did Ash.

A prudent move here might have been to cover this up, accuse whoever exposed Ember of slander, and just let the kid inherit the throne anyway. Sadly, prudence was not a trait King Shale possessed in abundance. So what he did instead was lose his shit over it and very publicly throw Ember out of his court, after which she quickly fell prey to any one of the many people who were pissed at her for the deception, and was killed. Shale then denied both the affair and the fact that Ash was his son, but made a show of magnanimously “adopting” the gryphonic bastard child and allowing him to remain at court. This was an entirely political move in response to the fact that the gryphons on Andolia’s borders were getting tired of exactly this kind of shit, and he hoped that he could use Ash as a kind of “how can you say I hate gryphons, look at this one who I raised and keep around out of the goodness of my heart” card.

Unsurprisingly this did not work out nearly as well as Shale imagined it would, and instead of a loyal walking virtue signal/gryphonic liaison, what he ended up with was a resentful and confused teenager who had been raised with the combined knowledge that A) gryphons are terrible, dangerous creatures with few redeeming qualities and nobody likes them, and B) he was part gryphon. So, not unlike Taylor Swift, he responded to everyone’s expectation that he would be a shitty person by turning into a shitty person. This uneasy state of affairs carried on until Ash was around sixteen, at which point he accidentally stumbled across the fact that he was actually the king’s son, and not the son of a random courtier with poor judgement as had always been vaguely implied. He also found out what exactly had happened to his mother. He immediately confronted Shale about this. Shale, who had always been paranoid about Ash trying to usurp him, entirely missed the point of the confrontation and instead of addressing the lying or the unofficially sentencing Ember to death thing or the general environment he’d made Ash grow up in, angrily doubled down on the fact that Ash would not be heir to the throne, ever, because he’s still a gyphon and that’s not a thing in Andolia, and even if he wasn’t he’d never be fit to rule and was clearly an ungrateful little shit. Ash, who up to that point hadn’t remotely wanted to rule, immediately decided out of pure teenage spite that fuck you, he was going to usurp his asshole of a father and do exactly that, so he set about stirring up dissent and delving further into his gyphonic heritage, with which he quickly became mildly obsessed since obviously his aquei side wasn’t doing anything for him. In the course of this research he came across records of an unrelated full-blooded gryphon named Kyran who had been executed by the king on trumped-up charges as a political maneuver some years prior and, since he no longer wanted to use an Andolian name and didn’t know his mother’s real name, he decided to adopt that one.

Cut back to Talon and Iadra, who are among the gryphons getting edgy over the king’s increasing levels of bullshit since it’s putting Talon’s town and everyone he associaties with at risk, and making things even more difficult for the local gryphons, who are having trouble even venturing into the outskirts to trade unless they’re very stealth about it. Iadra starts to think that maybe they should take some direct action and go after the king directly, a plan Talon is extremely dubious about since they have zero meaningful political allies and he doesn’t want to paint a target on the assorted farmers and villagers who would back him. That is until Kyran shows up and announces his plan to overthrow the king himself, along with a grandiose plan to change things for Andolia’s relationship with the gryphons once he takes over. And Kyran does have political allies (though not many, and not without substantial effort on his part). Talon decides that’s enough for him to go along with the idea, so he and Iadra join forces with Kyran’s rebellion and know what this is too long I need to make this a multi-part thing.

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admiralty-xfd · 5 years

Text

Culmination

This is Chapter 9. If you missed Chapter 8 click here.

INDECISION

(Requiem)

MULDER

The FBI auditor’s voice is a hollow sound in his head. Mulder has been here before, many times, defending the merit of his life’s work to someone lacking an open mind.

This time, it’s about money. The FBI wants to shut the X Files down because the Bureau can’t justify the expense. Mulder semi-seriously suggests he and Scully could start sharing motel rooms, but the auditor presses on about the continued legitimacy of his work.

He doesn’t know it, but he’s given Mulder something to think about.

The auditor is right, kind of, Mulder begrudgingly admits to himself. He has discovered the truth about his sister. His singular obsession has finally been satisfied.

But this ridiculous guy doesn’t seem to realize there are infinite truths still out there, waiting to be discovered. That’s why the FBI needs an X Files unit. That’s why he’s still doing this. That’s why Scully is still doing this with him.

Isn’t it?

And then there’s the mysterious illness he has. Ever since the cancer man put him under the knife earlier this year, his doctors have been telling him his health has been steadily declining. Not one of them can tell him what it is, and he’s been to several. Irregular brain activity, they all say. He’s only very recently started to worry something might be terribly wrong. How can he be dying? Even though he refuses to accept it, he can’t help but feel the heavy burden of mortality weighing down on his every decision.

He hasn’t told Scully yet. She’d only worry. He’s not sure what to say, so he says nothing.

They are back in Bellefleur, Oregon, where everything began. Full circle. Déjà vu all over again.

It’s exciting being here together again now, considering how different their relationship is. He still remembers exactly how she looked that night in his motel room like it was yesterday; that wonderful night when they began to understand each other. So young, but still unmistakably Scully. And when he bared his soul to her, how somehow it felt like the right thing to do even though they’d only just met. He knew even then they had something special.

That was seven years ago. Could this work still hold the interest and excitement for her it once did? Why hasn’t he bothered asking her? Could she really just be sticking around for him? So many things they’ve lost, she’s lost, all for a quest that started out as his own.

You were just assigned, he once said to her in a huff. This work is my life.

And it’s become mine, she had responded.

She chose him time and time again, in spite of the odds stacked against them. In spite of the danger, the sacrifice, the loss. Why? Is it really as painfully obvious as he thinks it might be? That she’s doing this all for him?

He loves her, of this he is certain. But he worries that maybe simply loving her won’t be enough. Maybe he can’t give her everything she needs. What if she throws her entire lot in with him and he fucks it all up? Or now, knowing what he knows, even dies? She’s already given up so much. The pressure to be everything to her is enormous and while it feels amazing right now, he’s not sure how long it can last.

They are sitting now in Theresa Hoese’s living room. One of the many abductees they’ve encountered over the years, and somehow she’s here, living her life, just as he’d wished she and all the abductees they’ve ever met could.

Just as he’d wished Scully could.

Theresa holds her new baby, then she hands the baby over to Scully as she gets up.

Scully looks at Mulder a bit uncomfortably as Theresa leaves the room to retrieve medical records, but the motherly instinct kicks in and she bounces the infant on her knee, grabbing a Big Bird toy from the coffee table and talking to the baby quietly.

Mulder watches her and his heart breaks.

***

He’s trying to concentrate on work but his thoughts are with Scully. He has no clue exactly what kind of life she pictured having but he sure as shit knows this isn’t it. He knows as well as she does that the day she was assigned to be his partner was the day all of that changed.

There’s nothing he can do about the past. Maybe there is something he can do about her future.

She knocks on his door and he lets her in; she’s not feeling well and they both wordlessly agree to break their fraternizing rules yet again.

As he tucks her into his bed and wraps his arms around her, he knows what he needs to do.

“It’s not worth it, Scully.”

“What?”

“I want you to go home.”

She is so feverish he can feel her shaking. “Mulder, I’m gonna be fine.”

“No, no, I’ve been thinking about it. Looking at you today holding that baby. Knowing everything that’s been taken away from you, a chance for motherhood and your health… and that baby…”

He trails off for a minute, thinks he hears her sniffling.

“I think that… I don’t know, maybe they’re right.”

“Who’s right?”

“The FBI. Maybe what they say is true, though for all the wrong reasons… it’s the personal costs that are too high.”

He chooses his next words carefully because he doesn’t even know what he wants anymore. He wants her, of course, more than anything, but not if that means holding her back. Not if it means one day breaking her heart.

“There’s so much more you need to do with your life. So much more than this. There has to be an end, Scully.”

She says nothing, but reaches for his hand and pulls it in close. They are quiet for a while, then she speaks softly, so sadly.

“I can’t imagine my life without you in it, Mulder.”

All he can consider is what a mess they’ve gotten themselves into. How he wishes she’d left him a long time ago, before all these feelings were involved. Before her abduction and the violation of her body, leaving her sick and powerless to start a family of her own. Before her sister was murdered. Poor Queequeg, who he never really liked but the dog had made her smile and that had been everything.

“I’m responsible, Scully. I’m responsible for all of it. I can’t continue to let you put yourself at risk for me.”

She turns around on the bed to face him. “You are not responsible. Don’t put that on yourself, Mulder. I have always chosen to see this through. I want to be here. It’s been my own choice, every time. Please stop trying to protect me.”

“I knew our work would be dangerous and I never told you,” he says. “You never knew the risks beforehand. I did. Deep Throat warned me the first time I met him. He specifically said I was putting both of us at risk. I didn’t listen, I didn’t let you decide whether to take on those risks. That is on me, Scully.”

She looks at him thoughtfully.

“It doesn’t matter. Do you really believe I’d have listened? I already thought you were crazy, Mulder.”

He laughs, squeezes her tighter. “I don’t know. Maybe. We’ll never know.”

She places her hand on his cheek and looks into his eyes. “I do. I know. I would have followed you anywhere.”

Closing her eyes, she nestles into him as tightly as she can. She’s still shivering a bit and he shifts to get underneath the blankets with her, pulling her close.

He wants to tell her he loves her, but something is stopping him. If he tells her, it will make this all harder than it already is. Whatever he does, however she makes him feel, he can’t shake the pervasive thought that all of this is his fault. She doesn’t want him to protect her, but he must. He will always want to protect her, no matter what. She is his entire world, even at times when his world feels like it’s about to shatter.

He wonders if he needs to let her go before things can get worse. He only wants to save her from himself.

He falls asleep with his arms around her, after he’s sure her shivering has subsided and her breathing has calmed.

That night he has a dream.

He’s in the woods and he’s running towards something. Running, running. Finally he sees it: the spacecraft. It’s bigger than life and right there, in front of him.

He hears a sound, a voice calling his name.

“Mulder!”

At first he thinks maybe it’s Skinner calling him but... no. It’s Scully’s voice.

"Mulder, where are you? Come back to me.”

He wants to go back to find her but… that craft. That craft. Nothing in him will let him stay away. He slowly approaches and sees friendly faces bathed in ethereal light, beckoning him. He sees the ship above and stares in wonder.

“Come back to me.”

All the answers he’s ever wanted within his grasp. But Scully isn’t here. She’s... somewhere else.

He knows he has a choice. It’s a choice he’s never wanted to have to make.

And he never wants to have to make that choice.

Suddenly he wakes up, sweating. Scully is still in his arms, sleeping peacefully.

But he doesn’t feel relief, he feels loss. He tries desperately to get back to the woods but instead falls into a dreamless slumber.

SCULLY

I’m not going to risk losing you, he’d said.

She can’t make him stay. She knows this much. He’s too close to the truth now, and she can’t be selfish. But she won’t deny him this wish, this desire to protect her. Not this time. He will have to go back to Oregon without her.

Her partnership with Mulder has always been based on mutual respect. She wonders if any of this changed in his mind when their relationship crossed over into new territory. She’d be lying if she didn’t admit to herself it had been a concern of hers. He’s always been protective of her, but something feels different now.

If he doesn’t want her to join him this time, what about the next time? Once she’s allowed him this indulgence, will he request it again and again until they become something completely different?

And what did he mean when he said he wanted her to do more with her life? He couldn’t have possibly meant without him, could he? She hasn’t been so confused about her own feelings for a long time, and she’s definitely not sure about his.

Everything has been too perfect for too short a time. Of course it’s been too good to be true, of course it has.

It’s close to midnight and she’s sitting on his bed, watching him pack.

“What time is your flight?”

“3:20. Arriving in Oregon around 6AM, local time.” He says it like a flight attendant, trying to lighten the mood. “Skinner is meeting me at the airport.”

For some reason everything feels odd tonight, and weighty. She has a terrible, ominous feeling.

“I feel like I’m abandoning you, even though you’re the one leaving.” She feels this way anytime he makes her stay behind. It always feels like she’s the one who’s failed him.

“I’ve got this, Scully,” he zips his carry-on bag closed and steps around the bed to her. “And don’t say that. You could never abandon me. I’m the one who always ditches you, remember?”

He crouches down so his hands are on her thighs and he’s looking up at her, smiling. She smiles and gives a tiny chuckle. “How could I forget?”

He takes her hands in his. “When I get back, we’ll figure this out. You and me, this whole thing, you know? We’ll figure everything out.”

She nods because she doesn’t know what else to do. It feels like he’s saying some kind of real goodbye, and she doesn’t know why, she can’t understand. She feels so helpless, and he’s doing that thing she hates where he goes off somewhere far away in his mind she can’t follow.

She feels like anything she says or he says is only going to make her feel worse, so she decides they don’t need to talk at all.

“Just kiss me, Mulder.”

He obliges, and they fall back onto the bed. She has an overwhelming urge to take stock of every precious moment right now, so she does. And for some reason it feels like he’s doing the same.

***

A couple hours later, Mulder’s alarm sounds. He quickly taps it and starts to get up, but she pulls him gently back down.

“Don’t get up yet,” she says, softly. “Just hold me for a few more minutes.”

He lays back down beside her. “Okay.”

She turns to face him and pulls him in close. They lay together quietly. She wishes she could make time stop for the two of them. There’s so much she wants to say, but she feels so unsure after what he’d said in Oregon.

It was almost as if he was trying to break up with her, but they haven’t discussed if they’re even a couple or not. She wants to tell him it’s what she wants but now she’s more confused than ever. He said they’d figure things out later. Would they? They haven’t so far.

She wishes she knew what to do. She’s always got an answer for everything, always some theory or hypothesis she can test and discover some truth. Not with him, though. She wishes their relationship was something she could put under a microscope.

He kisses her cheek. “I’ve got to get to the airport.” He gets out of bed and starts getting dressed. As she begins to do the same, he leans down and kisses her again.

“I’ll call a cab, you stay here and sleep.”

“No, I’ll drive you,” she offers. She can’t shake the feeling that she needs to spend every remaining second she can with him.

After she gets dressed, she idly picks some of his clothes off the floor. She finds a striped collared shirt she can’t help but remember she herself stripped off him the last time they were here. She sets the shirt down gently on his bed.

“You should really clean up in here. It’s not so impressive for the ladies.”

“I’ve already got the only one I want,” he grins, and winks at her.

At the terminal, they pull up and see Skinner waiting. Oddly, he doesn’t seem the least bit surprised to see her dropping him off at 2:30 in the morning and even odder, for the first time she doesn’t really care.

Mulder turns to her from the passenger seat and she puts the car into park.

He just looks at her. She looks into his eyes and doesn’t say the words yet again, but leans forward because even though Skinner is right there, watching, the need to kiss him right here, right now is much stronger than her desire to keep them a secret. He doesn’t hesitate, and it’s a good kiss, a passionate one, a kiss definitely not for coworkers but one for the ages. Skinner sees just enough to turn around quickly and find his own fingernails extremely interesting.

Mulder pulls away first and looks over his shoulder. “Well, shit. This is going to be an awkward flight now.” He grins.

“Sorry, I guess it was bound to come out at some point.”

He leans in one more time for a last, quick kiss.

“Be safe, okay?” she whispers, holding his face. “Call me when you find something.”

“Okay.” He gently pulls her forehead to his and they hold each other for a moment. With one final look, he opens the car door, gets out and closes it. He waves at her through the window, joins Skinner and in a few seconds he is gone from her sight.

The call never comes.

Thanks for reading! To continue the story click here. Otherwise I’ll see you back here tomorrow!

#txf #the x files #msr #msr fanfic #fanfiction #requiem #angst ahead sorry #culmination

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kumkaniudaku · 6 years

Text

Meet the Parents: Three

A/N: FINALLY finished with this. My midterm paper was taking over my life. I have a few more prompts to do before I start working on spooky stuff for Wednesday! I hope you all enjoy. Also, the face claim for CoCo’s dad has changed.

Word Count: 4488

The journey through post-secondary education has its ups and downs. As much as an institution can be a site for cultivating and molding the minds of tomorrow’s leaders, it also serves as an arena for young people to navigate life’s challenges and triumphs. From making friends, leaving with enemies, passing classes with flying colors and falling flat for the second time, college provides an opportunity for growth.

For you and Chadwick, not only had both of you grown as individuals but also as two souls forever bonded by the Howard University experience and the quiet beginnings of a long friendship.

Sadly, all great experiences must end. The freshmen that hit it off in 1996 by accident were now semi-adults preparing for their last hoorah before real life started.

Chadwick sat at the foot of your bed, engrossed in the basketball game on the television, while you flipped through your photo album and reminisced.

“Oh my goodness, look at Tanisha,” you laughed. “I don’t know who told her that dressing as a cigar was a good Halloween costume, but I’m glad they did. This shit is hilarious.”

“It was probably the girl standing beside her dressed as the most low budget Lola Bunny that I’ve ever seen.”

“Shut the hell up Mr. Too Cool to Dress Up for a Halloween Party. I was cute that night.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t cute. I said your hand drawn jersey and dingy bunny ears looked low budget.”

Using the fact that his attention was elsewhere as an advantage, you flung a throw pillow at the back of his head. “I really can’t stand you. Go home.”

“I want you to act just like that during graduation this weekend. Don’t let me see one tear or I’m clownin’ you at the celebration dinner,” he answered as he leaned back to lay on the bed. “Speaking of the celebration, your folks eating with mine or are we doing two separate things?”

You thought for a moment, using the fringe on your pillowcase to distract you from the brown eyes peering up at you. You’d passed the Mr. and Mrs. Boseman test with flying colors, and your family was all but ready to marry you off tomorrow after only a few meetings with Chadwick. Separately, you both got along with each other’s families. But, you weren’t sure how situations would play out once the Greene and Boseman clans united.

“You think they’ll like each other? Our families?”

“Why wouldn’t they? My parents like you and your parents love me. We’re extensions of those that raise us right? It should work itself out.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Then we’ll go get carry out together and eat it back at my place. It’s no big deal.”

“Everything is no big deal to you, Aaron.” Chadwick smirked and shrugged his shoulders. His nonchalant attitude about things not involving his work either infuriated or calmed your nerves. Today, it soothed your worries and helped you to make a concrete decision.

“Okay, let’s do it.”

Chadwick’s eyes shot from the television to your face to get confirmation of what exactly you were planning to do. “What’d you just say?”

“I said let’s do it!”

“Right here? Right now? I mean it’s kind of soon, and I was hoping it’d happen way different than this, but if you want, sure. Let’s do it!”

“Great! I’ll call my mom and dad and tell them we’re combining our parties! Should we match outfits? No, that’s too much. Red velvet or pound cake?” Your rambling became a background murmur in Chadwick’s ear once he realized how close he’d come to make an ass of himself.

After thanking God for saving him from an awkward mishap, he watched and listened to you plan the final get together before the inevitable separation occurred. You were taking a job offer to intern with the Hornets in Charlotte and Chadwick had long made the decision to pursue directing and writing in New York. For much of the Spring semester, the conversation about continuing the friendship long distance had been avoided. Neither of you were ready to think about life without the other.

Still, time can not slow down or be replaced. The days of the week began to blend together between parties, senior week activities, and graduation practice. Separate familial activities kept you and Chadwick away from each other Friday afternoon, leaving little room for serious conversation during a wild off-campus graduation party.

While you and Chadwick prepared for the grand entrance with fellow members of the Howard University Class of 2000, your separate groups of parents prepared for a meeting orchestrated by God himself.

“Where is Chadwick,” Carolyn asked, craning her neck around to look over the upper quandrangle housing the commencement ceremony. “First he wasn’t home this morning, and now I don’t see him here. The ceremony starts in ten minutes.”

“Then it makes sense why you wouldn’t see him out here then, right? The graduates aren’t just hanging around.”

Shifting her attention to her husband, Carolyn’s mouth opened to speak but closed as a family of three shuffled past her to take the last open seats in the area.

“Gerald, where is Tasha? The ceremony starts in eight minutes and she is nowhere to be found. She wasn’t at her apartment and she has yet to page me back. I will return that car to the lot the moment we get back home if she isn’t here.”

“Baby, the graduates don’t wait in the open before the ceremony,” Gerald answered. “C’mon, now. You’ve been through this before.”

Elaine’s mouth opened and closed, realizing that what her husband was saying was true.

“Don’t you hate when they’re right?”

Elaine whipped her head around to acknowledge the stranger, breaking into a small smile at the comment. “They never let you live it down. I guess that’s what happens when you’re wrong nine times out of ten.”

The women shared a laugh for a brief moment, helping each other to let go of some of the tension pent up from nervous energy.

“What’s your baby’s name?”

“Tasha Greene. She’s graduating from the School of Business.”

“So you’re the woman my son says I need to meet,” Carolyn laughed. “Now that I’m looking at you, I definitely see the resemblance.”

“I’m sorry, am I missing something,” Elaine asked with confusion taking prominence on her soft features.

“My son, Chadwick, talks about your daughter all the time. The beautiful ‘Miss CoCo’ is the topic of every conversation. Even when she doesn’t fit.”

The light bulb connecting names with stories illuminated Elaine’s mind, “Oh...my God! Chadwick is your son? Sweet little Aaron that ate my burnt meatloaf to be nice when everyone else criticized it? Girl, I owe you a thank you for checking in on my baby the way you do!”

“Owe me? I owe you! Lord knows my boy will eat you out of house and home if you let him. That week in Atlanta must’ve cost you a fortune.”

“Oh, girl, I’ve been raising two athlete daughters while married to a Marine. Trust me, he fit right in.

“So you know the struggle of keeping food in the house. I raised three boys and almost lived at the grocery store.” When the short bout of laughter subsided, Carolyn gave Elaine a small smile. “May I ask you a question? Mother to mother?”

“Absolutely. Unless it’s about Tasha’s manners. She takes after her father.”

Carolyn laughed and shook her head, “She’s been nothing but mannerable around me. My question is about our kids. Be honest with me, is Tasha...interested in my son at all? He thinks the world of her and I don’t want him to be hurt if she doesn’t feel the same way.”

“She is interested, but she’s afraid. If you ask her, he’s not looking to be in a relationship. I think she’s ignoring the signs to protect her heart. Again, she takes after her Daddy.”

“You know I can hear you right, Kitty,” Gerald interjected. “I’m sitting right here.”

The beginning of ‘Pomp and Circumstance’ sounded around the outdoor area, alerting the guests to the arrival of the honorees. Sharing a knowing look, the two women put their conversation on hold to prepare for the arrival of their graduates.

------------

“Tasha Nicole Green, Magna Cum Laude. Chadwick Aaron Bose-,” last names and accomplishments were drowned out by the combined applause of both families despite the request to wait until all names were called.

“Look at our babies,” Elaine smiled through misty eyes. “They’re growing so fast.”

“Mhmmm. Growin’ and drinkin’ before they have to walk across the stage. I bet all the money in my husband’s wallet that Chadwick doesn’t think I can tell.”

“They never think we know anything. Tasha is wobbling in those shoes like a baby deer and it ain’t because I didn’t teach her how to wear a pair of heels. I’ll let her slide for now, though. It’s a big day and she’s grown.”

In the center of the action, you caught wind of the overwhelming hooping and hollering from the stands, tapping Chadwick on the bicep to pull him away from the moment and direct is attention to the section you were looking at.

“Looks like our mamas found each other without our help,” you laughed, pointing to their spot in the audience and earning a wave from the pair.

“I guess so. Saves us a lot of trouble. What you think they talkin’ about?”

“Probably how cute I look in these shoes. You can’t even tell I’m still a lit-tle bit drunk.”

“CoCo, everyone can tell you’re a little bit drunk. You haven’t walked in a straight line since we’ve been here,” Chadwick scoffed, stepping to the side to let you into the row to take your seat.

“Ah, shut up, hater.” A wobbly step before reaching your chair caught you by surprise and sent Chadwick into a fit of hushed giggles. He was right. You were still noticeably intoxicated despite your best attempts to eat and hydrate your body into sobriety. Turning to your best friend, you pulled your sunglasses down to reveal a horrified expression. “Oh my God, my mama is gonna kill me!”

“Relax. I’ve been drunk in front of my mama too many times to count, and she’s never noticed. Just follow my lead.”

“Last time I followed your lead I drunk four cups of hunch punch to chase the two beers you gave to me.”

“But, did you have a good time?”

You thought for a moment, the memories of the night prior making you smile. “Yeah.”

“Okay, then. Follow my lead. We’re all good.”

-----------

Sitting in your apartment free from the stuffy graduation robe that held you hostage in the late spring sun, you were beginning to realize that things were not “all good.” For the one-hundredth time since your mother and Mrs. Boseman had teamed up to lecture you and Chadwick on the dangers of excessive drinking, you cut your eyes at the man sitting beside you.

“And I know you think we don’t know, but you two aren’t good at hiding anything. We know a lot more than you think we do,” Carolyn ranted with Elaine adding a “mhmm” behind her.

“Right now, you don’t understand, but you will when you’re parenting your own kids and have to deal with them acting a fool in public.”

“Their dad can handle that. I’m gonna be a cool mom,” you mumbled.

“Chadwick, are you ready to handle that since this one will be a cool mom,” Elaine questioned.

“Me!? What do her bad kids have to do with mine?”

“Woah, Woah! My kids will not be bad! Let’s not forget that I’m the one that keeps us out of trouble.”

Carolyn and Elaine watched their offspring argue about potential parenting styles with broad smiles and a twinkle in their eye. Mothers have a way of seeing beyond the current moment, and though neither of you were privy to the knowledge they possessed, their shared intuition confirmed what they already knew.

In the kitchen, Leroy and Gerald were dealing with headaches of their own as they listened to Kevin and Tiana argue over nothing in particular. Tired of the bickering, and the rumbling in their stomach from the thought of eating after the draining ceremony, both men were prepared to put an end to the commotion around them.

“Alright, alright.”

“Hey!”

Talking ceased at their separate outbursts as both men looked at each other with surprised expressions.

“You go first, brother. I wasn’t tryin’ to interrupt you,” Gerald insisted.

“No, no. You go on ahead. This is technically your house.”

Gerald nodded before turning to the group across the apartment. “Now look, we done sat here and listened to y’all lecture these two grown ass people about drinking, and I’m tired of it. I’m ready to eat and I’m ready to eat right now, Kitty.”

“So they’re supposed to be able to do what they wanna do? Is that what you’re saying,” Carolyn asked with Elaine offering her nonverbal support with a glare at her husband.”

“Let the kids have fun. That’s what college is about. We ain’t ate since breakfast. Let it go!”

You and Chadwick shared quiet snickers at the notion that the chastisers were now being chastised. In a way, Mr. Boseman reminded you a lot of your best friend. His stance, laid-back yet oozing authority, made you think of the times he had “put his foot down” in situations where you unnecessarily argumentative. Chadwick’s mind simultaneously took in your mother’s demeanor and smiled at the near-identical posture. Elaine’s knuckles pressed into her sides with all of her weight on one leg took him back to moments when you *thought* you were scolding him for not listening while you spoke to him of leaving his shoes in the middle of the floor.

An intense battle of glares made the air thick between the parenting duos on each side of the argument until the mother’s relented with exasperated scoffs.

“Fine, Leroy! Just let the boy do whatever, I don’t care. We got a reservation to makes anyway.”

Turning on her heels, Elaine took a look at her husband and shook her head, “You spoil her, you know that? I expect you to pay the bill since she can be a drunk in public.”

“Now, Kitty-”

“I don’t wanna hear it. I have your checkbook anyway. It’ll get paid.”

Leaving Gerald stunned and Leroy in a silent fit of laughter, Elaine followed Carolyn out of the door and to the car. Gerald found the presence of mind to figuratively pick his jaw up from the ground before turning to address you and Chadwick.

“Y’all owe me.”

“You owe both of us. It doesn’t stop here. We’ll have to hear it long after y’all are out and getting drunk. Again! C’mon and get in this car before your mama blows the roof off of it.”

---------

“To the graduates,” Kevin exclaimed as he thrust his red plastic cup into the air to begin his toast. “May your careers be fruitful so you can take me to Cancun on your dime.”

“Kevin!”

“Sorry, mama,” Kevin apologized before shooting a wink your way. “We’ll talk, T.”

A careful tug to his jeans by Carolyn brought Kevin down from his standing position on the picnic table bench and back to his seat.

When your parents told you they had something special planned after your graduation dinner, you weren’t sure what to expect. Your mother hated everything about the outdoors other than her beloved sunflowers in the backyard, so desert at a nearby park was the last thing you thought you would be doing. What you assumed to be a quiet after party with close friends and family turned into a carefully planned scavenger hunt to reveal one of your graduation gifts: a used, all black Jeep Grand Cherokee with heated seats and 10 disk CD changer. Your excitement could barely be contained, though you wondered how the car would factor into the news that you still needed to share.

“Alright, Mr. Cool, it’s your turn to make a toast,” Gerald laughed, directing his comment to Chadwick who was lazily leaning against your shoulder and using his spoon to pick the pecans out of your ice cream like he always did. He knew you hated them and would take the time to make sure they “didn’t go to waste.”

Smoothing out his t-shirt, Chadwick took a moment to stand and raise his cup into the air.

“Uh, I guess I’ll start with a toast to my parents, both biological and adopted. Thanks, mama and daddy for helping me get through this with all the prayers and encouragement.”

“And money. Don’t forget all the money you cost us,” Leroy added.

“Yeah, and money.” The table shared a healthy laugh at Mr. Boseman’s interjection before Chadwick could continue. “Mrs. Elaine and Mr. Gerald, thanks for looking out for me when you could. I really appreciate it and promise to at least send a Christmas card every year, Maybe even stop by if I’m ever in the area.”

“You can’t just DeeBo my parents, Aaron.”

“Oh, hush, Tasha,” your mother answered as she waved off your comment. “Stop by anytime, Chadwick. There’ll always be some biscuits for you if Gerald doesn’t get to ‘em first.”

Your mother had been smitten with Chadwick from the night she met him, so it didn’t surprise you that she had no issue with inviting him over despite being notoriously reluctant to have guest outside of family and a select few friends inside the home.

Chadwick mirrored the way you stuck your tongue out like a child before turning his full attention to you. “Last, but not least, I wanna say thank you to my best friend in the world, even when she’s trying to tell me what to do. Without you staying up all times to help me finish projects or just making sure I had food to eat when I couldn’t always afford it, you’ve been a big part of my journey, and I wouldn’t trade you for anything. Except for some Braves tickets.”

After lightly shoving his side, you let Chadwick pull you into a hug once he took his seat. The heat of the late Spring sun paled in comparison to heat rushing to your cheeks. Your bronze skin prevented the scarlet hues below the surface from peeking through, but not enough to your feelings from the adults around the table. Parents and siblings shared knowing looks across the table, aware of the bubbling feelings between friends.

“Alright, alright, enough hugs, you two,” Gerald announce. “Pumpkin, it’s your turn.”

The group watched you stand and nervously run your sweaty palms down the sides of your summer dress. Chadwick paid special attention to the way your legs seemed to run for miles and thicken in the right places. He needed to remember all of his favorite parts of you to hold him when both of you split up to chase individual dreams. Charlotte, North Carolina was miles away from Harlem, and he wasn’t sure when he’d have the chance to see you again. Kevin clearing his throat and shooting him a playful glare brought Chadwick back to reality.

“I promise not to be long winded like Reverend C. Boseman over here,” you joked, earning an eye roll from Chadwick. “Thank you, Mommy and Daddy, for everything you’ve done to help me to this point. I love you guys so much. Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Boseman, for being my parents away from home and liking me more than Chadwick.”

“Ma, tell her that’s not true!”

“Hush, boy. Don’t be rude. Continue, CoCo.”

Again, Chadwick rolled his eyes, earning a light giggle from you. “Aaron, even though you get on my last nerve, thank you for always being there when I needed you. I can’t wait to tear up the city with you in a few weeks.”

Chadwick’s eyes widened at your revelation, matching the bewildered expression on your parent’s faces.

“Is Chadwick moving to Charlotte?”

“He sure as hell better not be,” Leroy mumbled as he took a sip from his cup. “His ass is going to Harlem.”

“Leroy!”

“Leroy, hell!”

“Tasha, what are you talking about? Explain yourself.”

Taking a deep breath, you turned your attention to your mother, “I am...no longer taking the internship in Charlotte. I decided to take a paid entry-level position in New Jersey with the Nets. I’ll be 20 minutes away from Manhattan and closer to you.” Your explanation ended with a smile at Chadwick that he gladly returned.

You were two weeks away from packing your car in preparation for a new life in Charlotte. The lease was set to be signed in three days, and your parents had already reached out to family and friends in the area to provided you with a safety net for when they couldn’t be around. The plan was in motion, and up until a week before graduation, you were excited about the new journey. But, when the opportunity came knocking for an immediate opening with an organization in desperate need of new ideas and an entry-level assistant complete with an above average salary and a relocation package, you answered the call. The idea of being closer to the man you were secretly in love with was an added bonus.

Chadwick could no longer contain his excitement as he bolted up from his seat to wrap his arms around you and lift you from the ground.

“Oh my, God, Co! Are you being a jackass or really telling the truth?”

“I’m telling the truth,” you answered while giggling at the way he playfully tickled your sides. “I was gonna tell you this morning, but I figured I’d let everyone know at the same time. I hope you’re not mad mama and daddy.”

Elaine and Gerald stared at each other, occasionally looking across the table at Carolyn and Leroy who were just as confused.

“Well, I ain’t mad,” Tiana exclaimed to break the tension. “Can I come stay with you for Spring Break, T?”

“No!”

“Yes.”

Tiana looked between you and Chadwick for a concrete answer to her question. “Are y’all gonna do me like Mom and Dad? I’ll just stay home if it’s gonna turn into all that.”

“You can’t tell her she can stay at my place, Aaron. Let her stay at yours if you want her to come so bad!”

“Stay at home. Tiana. That nigga is broke already and he ain’t even moved yet,” Kevin answered.

Chadwick opened his mouth to respond before being cut off by your mother.

“Tasha, while I’m excited for you, I’m a little worried. Where will you live? You don’t have any family that far north. How will you adjust on such short notice? Do you even know exactly where you’ll work?”

“We just want you to be safe, Pumpkin.”

“I understand, Daddy, but I have it all figured out! The team has found me housing that I think you guys will approve of, and they’ve committed to five months of relocation. I’ve spoken to my direct supervisor and they’re excited to have me on board. As far as family, I have Chadwick and Kevin. They’re like family, right?”

Silence hung in the air as your parents attempted to process the new information. Reaching over the table, Carolyn gave Elaine’s hand a squeeze.

“We’ll make sure she’s alright. You don’t have to worry.”

“If it’s one thing I taught my boys, it’s how to stick together. They’ll take care of her.”

With reassurance from newfound friends, Elaine and Gerald turned to you with a smile.

“Well, alright! My Pumpkin is moving to the city. I don’t know how we’ll get a damn car that far North, but we’ll figure it out!”

The brief moment of commotion at the table allowed Chadwick to pull you away from the table inconspicuously to walk toward the nearby fountain.

Chadwick stole glances at you along the way, sporting a goofy smile that you didn’t notice until you turned to speak to him.

“What are you smiling about, Ashy?”

“You specifically told me the North was way too cold for you. Six months later, you’re moving to New Jersey. You were gonna miss me too much, huh?”

“What,” you exclaimed, feigning confusion. “I moved to work with my favorite team!”

“You hate the Nets. You called Scott Burrell a fucking bum the other day.”

“I did not!” Chadwick quirked his eyebrow at your blatant lie, waiting for you to come clean. Dropping the act, you let out a short laugh and looked away. “Okay, so, yeah, I would miss you a little bit. A lot, actually. But, this was also a better opportunity! Who knows the places I’ll end up with this type of experience?”

“You’ll go wherever you want, Champ. I’m happy for you.” Chadwick used his fist to nudge your shoulder before taking a seat beside you on the edge of the fountain. Extending his arm, he pointed toward the picnic table to direct your attention to the conversation between both sets of parents. “What you think they’re over there talking about?”

“Knowing my mama, she’s talking your mama’s head off about me and you being together again and all the trouble we might get into.”

“She’d be correct, then.” A sly smile slid across Chadwick’s face, worrying you with what was going on in his overactive mind.

“Oh, no. No. Whatever you’re thinking, the answer is no.”

“C’mon! Give me a second to explain!”

While Chadwick attempted to pull you into one of his plans for a fun outing in New York, conversations of the future transpired between the Boseman and Greene families. In a way, Chadwick was right. They were discussing your futures together, but in a wildly different context.

“So, who do you think will be the one to own up to their feelings first,” Carolyn asked. “My money is on my son.”

“Really? I’m betting on Tasha. I’m surprised she’s gone this long with her feelings hidden. She usually wears her heart on her sleeve.”

“Whoever says it first, just know it’s tradition for the bride’s father to pay for the wedding.”

“Don’t remind me,” Gerald groaned. “Just make sure y’all tell us about every movie Chadwick writes or stars in so we can add to this wedding fund. If they’re both wealthy, we won’t have much to worry about.”

The table erupted in laughter before all four heads turned to look over at the spirited banter between old friends and budding lovers.

Raising his glass, Leroy proposed the last toast of the evening.

“To family. We’re happy to have y’all on board.”

Elaine and Gerald followed suit with raised cups and proud smiles. “To family.”

__________

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