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samkerrworshipper · 5 months

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revival | arsenal x reader

arsenal reader has been struggling more than she’d ever admit.. when it becomes to much she attempts to take her life but her teammates refuse to let her kill herself when she has so much more to live for.

warnings: do not read if you are triggered by suicide attempt, pill overdose, cutting, severe depression, angst, hurt/comfort

You didn’t know what had gotten you to this stage. Sitting on the bathroom floor of your apartment, staring down at an empty bottle of pills lying beside you on the floor. You weren’t sure exactly what had gotten you here, weren’t sure what switch had flicked in your brain this morning that had made you feel so positively broken from the inside out.

All you know is that right now you can feel deep purple, mauve and maroon bruises developing on your knees, from being hunched over the toilet bowl for so long.

Just when you begin to think that you’re empty, just when you think that there is nothing more that could be ripped away from you, you feel your muscles tense again as more bile is released.

Obviously, you knew the concoction of pills you took wouldn’t sit well, but you didn’t realise it would kick in this fast. You’d figured you’d have time to come to terms with the end of your life, or at least have time to scribble out a not.

But, all the pills you’d forced down your throat now resided in the toilet bowl, a mixture of stomach acid and medication pooling on the surface of the water.

It’s then that you make the decision that it’s time to take a different approach.

As you palm the metal blade, the cold sharp edge gently digging into your skin.

All you can think about is your team, your family, your home.

You think of the cold meal sitting on your kitchen bench.

At first, the metal burns, it stings and sears.

Almost as painful as the burning tears leaking down your cheeks.

Slowly, as more pressure is applied, your wrist is warmed by the pooling scarlett puddle dripping down onto the bright white tiles.

You’ve been sitting on the cold floor for way too long for your liking, your wrists pressed to the flooring to try and calm the burning sensation that’s spread all across your forearms.

If you try hard enough, you can convince yourself that the burning sensation is just another football injury.

You try and picture it, lying on the grass of a pitch, your arm throbbing with pain.

It only works for as long as your brain believes it, which is a total of ten seconds.

It’s been a long day, long week, long month, long year.

A long time pretending you're happy.

A long time try to convince everyone you’re happy.

A long time trying to persuade yourself that you’re happy.

A long time lying.

You’ve become so consumed with the lies that it’s hard to not be completely committed to them at this stage.

The only thing that reminds you of exactly where you are is the cold tiles against your arms, the warm blood and cold tiles mixing together like a thunderstorm.

The only sound to be heard across your apartment is the steady sound of blood dripping onto the tiles.

You think about your goodbyes, think about how this is the end, that you are content with this being it for you.

You’ve been at peace with this decision for a long while, longer than you’d ever care to admit.

It’s not really a decision for you, more like a losing battle.

In the last year, you’ve lost more of yourself than you thought possible, you don’t feel like you belong to yourself anymore, you don’t belong to yourself anymore. At one stage, a while ago, you loved yourself, you cared about yourself, you did your best to care. It hurt, feeling like you were no longer a owner of your body, maybe if you weren’t no longer classified as two different parts would you feel this way, or maybe it would make it harder, because maybe it wouldn’t feel like you were just getting rid of a body that you no longer belonged to, this was all to easy.

Your body was now something to be sold, something to be advertised, something to be purchased by the public.

You supposed that came from being a champion, being famous, being good at what you did.

Maybe, if you’d never become a famous soccer player none of this would have happened, you wouldn’t be lying on your bathroom floor, your vision slowly blurring and your blood leaking out steadily from your arms.

You walk towards the darkness, allowing it to embrace you as you slowly approach it without any resistance.

There was no fight for you, no hope or thoughts of redemption, this was your end, your demise, your final page, and that was okay.

You let the darkness completely cloud your vision, your body slowly being wrapped up by the accepting white light at the end of the tunnel.

It’s warm and comforting and you let your body rest, let it finally have the respite that it was so desperate for.

You felt yourself fade, far away with no intention of coming back.

You’d felt like you were gone, but you were brought back by more overwhelmingly white light in your vision.

Was this heaven?

Was this the end?

Was this it?

You were in pain, your head, your throat, your arms.

It was this thought that made you think you could be wrong.

Was this hell?

Or was the overwhelming white light just your bathroom tiles?

You cancelled out the tile idea, because you could feel your eyelids were closed, which meant that the white couldn’t be sourced from your home.

Your ears were ringing and as everything began to come back to you, it became terrifyingly clear that this could not be any of your previous assumptions.

Death wasn’t this painful, death wasn’t supposed to have any feeling.

Death didn’t feel like a warm bed and it definitely wasn’t consciousness.

This wasn’t the great beyond, this wasn’t the end, this was something else that you couldn’t quite pin down.

As your senses began to come back to you, your hearing and slowly your consciousness you began to become certain that whatever this was, it was not your end.

The sound of a constant machine beeping gave you an inkling as to where you might be, you just silently prayed that you were wrong, silently prayed that you would wake up in your red soaked tile bathroom and not a hospital.

You could clean up, try again.

You couldn’t handle being forced to recover, being forced to talk about your feelings.

It wasn’t something on your agenda, it wasn’t a part of your intricate demise.

You didn’t want to open your eyes, you weren’t even sure if you could, but you wanted to understand your situation, to understand what was happening.

So, you used every piece of your energy that was left, to every so slowly crack open your eyes.

It was more overwhelming white, that took a good deal of blinking to work through, but eventually, a blurry version of your surroundings began to appear in the corners of your eyes.

It confirmed your suspicions, you were in a hospital.

Which you hated, but you had also been prepared for, it made you feel insanely unaccomplished.

It took a lot of blinking and squinting for you to fully take in your surroundings.

The part that stumped you the most, and made you feel like you were hallucinating was the sea of red hoodies that were sitting, sleeping and lying around your room.

It was dark outside, the room was still lit up with machines and the bright white light from the corridor, but you figured that most of your teammates were fast asleep.

It was good, it gave you some extra time to take in your surroundings.

You were covered in cords and wires, your body completely moving even as you tried your very hardest.

Both of your wrists were bandaged tightly, to the point where you were completely unable to even wiggle your fingers.

It was daunting to you, the complete inability to do anything but lie in the bed and bear witness to your inability to do anything besides that.

Just as you were beginning to get truly distressed, one of the red blobs in your peripheral popped up out of their seat, making their way over to your bedside and tracing their hand over your one.

“Hey, ducky, it’s okay, I’ve got you, deep breaths. You’re okay.”

It’s Beth’s voice that hits your ears, and it has the reverse effect, making you more stressed out about the fact that she’s here witnessing this.

“Honey, it’s okay, big deep breaths for me, you’re okay.”

Beth’s hand moves up to your chest, your chest that is covered with a scratchy hospital gown.

“I shouldn’t be here, I-I-I’m supposed to be dead.”

Your words are croaky and chesty, almost unrecognisable but Beth manages to decipher them, and it almost brings tears to her eyes.

“Hey, hey, absolutely not. I thank every single god that you're here and awake right now, it is a miracle that you are here.”

This was not a miracle.

This was a fucking tragedy.

Beth’s face though, it was enough to send a deep pain to your stomach, deep guttural pain that hurt more than anything else.

“S-should be dead, wish I was dead.”

Beth’s face just drops, tears springing from her eyes and falling down onto the hospital sheets.

“Ducky, I promise you, we are all going to try our very hardest to make sure you never feel like that again. Get some more rest, we can sort this all out in the morning but you need your sleep, your body needs rest.”

You didn’t have energy to argue with Beth, so you nodded, relaxing back against the pillows and letting sleep and darkness return to the forefront of your brain.

When you awoke for the second time, it was less painful.

The sun was up this time, your room flooded with early sunbeams.

Overall the hospital was abuzz, to your extreme displeasure.

You were met with the eyes of some of your closest teammates, your words under the stars with Beth at the forefront of your mind as you looked at the extreme disappointment and sadness playing across their faces.

It hit home for you.

They all shared the same expression, all of you sharing the same situation that none of you wanted to be a part of.

“Hey Ducky, how are you feeling?”

Katie’s voice breaks the silence, her tone is full of emotion and you watch her mouth twitch to the side as she obviously tries her hardest to conceal the emotions that she is feeling.

“Like I wish I was dead.”

Nobody laughs, nobody says anything besides purse their lips and bite their tongues.

“We’re so glad you aren’t though, and we’re going to help you.”

We’re going to help you.

It’s five words, seven syllables, and the words that you least want to hear.

“Why couldn’t you just let me die?”

Your words manage to bring tears to the eyes of some of your teammates, you don’t care, all you can think about is the fact that someone, one of your teammates, had the fucking audacity to save you.

Leah’s the person to stand up, and take the same spot that Beth did last night, directly by your side, her hand resting on your own.

“Why didn’t I let you die? Why did I perform half an hour of chest compressions waiting for an ambulance whilst you bled out on your bathroom floor? Because you have a life that’s worth living, you have a gift for football, you are one of the brightest, happiest, smartest, best people I have ever met y/n, and this isn’t the end for you, it can’t be.”

You couldn’t meet Leah’s eyes, not with the knowledge that she had done this to you, she was the reason you were lying in a hospital bed instead of a coffin.

“You should have left me to die.”

Your words are broken, split in half by the knowledge that you were still fucking alive.

“You have a life worth living, kid, you’re only 21, there is so much more you have to give and I’ll be damned if this is it for you.”

You can’t meet any of your teammates' eyes, because it’s clear that they completely disagree with your actions, but there is still a part of you in your head telling you that everything would be better off if you were dead.

Your teammates wouldn’t have to pretend they care, they wouldn’t have too busy themselves with trying to save you from your impending death.

If you had any choice in it, you wouldn’t be this way.

If you could, you’d be happy and smiley, sweet, kind and soft. You’d be consistently happy, you would be the person smiling no matter what and someone easy to talk to, someone easy to love, someone that people wouldn’t let slip away.

You don’t have a choice though, this is who you are.

You are rough edges. You are a poorly labelled bottle of poison that people choke on as soon as they come into contact. You are a box of glass with a fragile sticker plastered all over and yet you still break, harming anyone who comes into contact.

When life gets hard, you quit.

There’s no way to explain why, everyone loves you until life is real and you need help, everyone is understanding until life isn’t pretty anymore.

You’ve never been loved through your lowest moments.

Never been loved when you can’t bring yourself to get out of bed, let alone shower.

Never been loved when the only thing that's playing in your head is how much you hate yourself.

Never been loved when the part of you that everyone loves suddenly dies.

Somedays, you are fairly certain that you are impossible to love. You don't know the kind of happiness love provides, you don’t know how to open up or trust, because no one ever loved you enough for that.

Other days, you remember that you are only 21, and maybe one day it won’t be this way.

You wish you were tender, you wished you were glowy and soft.

You wished you were Beth or Jen, always happy and ready to make anyone who was feeling down feel a little bit better.

“Why couldn’t you have just let me die?”

Your cheeks are practically drowning in tears, Leah reaches up to wipe them, you try to stop her but you instead moan in pain as the searing burn spreads backup your arms.

At the sound of your discomfort Leah is recoiling immediately, her hands falling down to your tightly wrapped arms and pressing them gently back down into the blankets.

“Hey, no, these need rest, you did some serious nerve damage, we won’t know the severity until you’ve got some strength back.”

Fuck.

“Nerve damage?”

Collateral damage had never crossed your mind, because you weren’t supposed to be alive right now, so why would collateral damage matter?

“Yeah, you could have severed or done some serious damage to your nerves, if they are cut then you’ll need a nerve replacement to regain the sensation.”

You blink a few times, staring up at the roof and willing the tears leaking down your face to fo away.

“I should have died.”

Leah, in all of her honesty, nods.

“Yeah, you should have. They had to pump your stomach to get rid of all the drugs you’d consumed, and you need 38 stitches and three pints of blood. You should be dead, but you aren’t and the fact that you aren’t is a fucking miracle.”

You wouldn’t call this a miracle, not from any point of view.

“When can I play again?”

You’re not sure if you’ll make it till that point, but it’s a question worth asking, there are big things coming up, on both a national and club level.

“Excuse me?”

Leah is shocked, and extremely taken aback by your question, so much so that she just stutters over her words.

Before she chokes on her words, Katie steps in.

“Kid, you almost died yesterday.”

You shrug, you figured it was a question worth asking, but Katie’s voice told you that to her it was a stupid question.

“A week? Two weeks? A month?”

You're grasping for something, trying to find the long straw in a pile of short ones.

“Kid, you tried to kill yourself, you almost succeeded, there are bigger things to focus on for you right now then getting on the pitch.”

A part of your brain disagrees so heavily.

“I have to go, they’ll take my passport and my licence and I’ll never be allowed to play again.”

All of the girls share knowing looks, but the general idea is that there is a general discomfort across the room.

“Ducky, look at me.”

It’s Katie’s strong Irish accent, the voice she uses when she’s captaining her national team that forces your eyes from the roof to meet her own.

“They can’t make you do anything, you need to be here right now. There is a treatment plan, you tried to kill yourself, you can’t just leave, it doesn’t work that way.”

Your brain is screaming inside of your skull, pounding against the bone and muscle.

“Jorge never let us take a break, he told us if we ever tried to leave that they would take all of our identification, and our licence to play, I have to play, I was born to play, it’s the only thing I have.”

Slowly, without the efforts of any of the girls, you are starting to unearth some of the serious problems you’ve been dealing with for the last little while, especially coming off of the world cup.

They’d all noticed the change, noticed how after your national teams win, how parts of you had changed.

They all had their assumptions, especially after what happened with Jenni Hermoso and after some conversations with some of their Spanish companions, but nobody could provide an explanation for what was happening behind closed doors.

It was no secret to any of your teammates that Jorge was your biggest critiquer, you and Mapi had tried sticking up to him at the beginning of his career with the Spanish team, and it had landed you both in deep water.

Mapi, had been intelligent enough to leave the toxic environment when it had become too much, when it had seriously begun to affect her mental health.

You however, were not as good at identifying your emotions, and taking care of them, you pushed yourself to the point of breakage, this was a perfect example of that.

“Ducky, Vilda is gone now, you don’t have to worry, I’ll call Alexia, she’ll understand and she’ll talk to them for you. You need a break sweetheart, you need to talk about why you're struggling, there are bigger things to focus on right now than your career.”

You couldn’t disagree more, you were in your prime, you didn’t have time to take a break.

You also didn’t have time to live, there was nothing that plagued your mind more than the idea of trying again, as soon as you could remove yourself from the conservatorship of your arsenal teammates.

“I need to leave, I want to be discharged.”

It’s an attempt at regaining some of your dignity, one that doesn’t last very long.

“You’re on a 72 hour psych hold, 24/7 supervision whilst you're recovering. Everyday you will see a psychologist and after the 72 hours they’ll deem if you are ready to leave, if they believe you can be trusted to leave then you’ll go home with Beth and Viv for the foreseeable future. For the first few weeks, you’ll be under complete supervision, you’ll see a therapist every few days and once you’ve made some serious progress we’ll look at getting you back into training.”

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, and a big gulp, trying to force down the lump that was prominent in your throat.

“You can’t do that, I don’t want to see a therapist, I don’t need to see a therapist.”

Most of the women in the room roll their eyes.

“Ducky, we’ve all been worried about you for weeks, but you refuse to talk to any of us, clearly something led to this and if you won’t talk to us about it you need to talk to a professional.”

You don’t want to admit that a part of you is secretly terrified of seeing a therapist, because what if they see right through you? What if all they see is all of your insecurities and imperfections, just as Jorge did?

“I can’t see a therapist, don’t wanna.”

Before Katie can speak, previously silent Viv stands up at her seat and joins the crowd around your bedside.

“I know it's scary, kid. I started seeing someone when I was around your age and struggling. It was so hard, it was terrifying. I didn’t want to admit I was struggling, and then one of my teammates caught me harming myself whilst having an anxiety attack. I had to go see one to play again, and it sucked to start with, but it helped me so much, we all just want the best for you, and you need help, there is nothing wrong with accepting that.”

The remaining women sitting in the room stand up, surrounding your bedside.

Beth, Leah, Katie, Caitlin, Lia, Kim, Steph, Viv, Jen, Laura and Lotte.

It’s a crowd, and the taller girls have to stand behind because they don’t all fit, and even if they aren’t directly hugging you, you are overwhelmed with the amount of love radiating off of them, it’s too much.

“No-no, I can’t do this, you guys can’t do this to me. There is nothing wrong with me, I’m fine, I’m fucking fine.”

It’s clear that none of them believe you, you expect them to step back, but they don’t.

“No you’re not liefje, people who seriously try to take their lives are not okay. You don’t have to be, we’re all here to support you, you just need to let us, let us be here for you, let us be a shoulder for you to cry on.”

Your breaths shudder, you can’t meet any of their eyes, it hurts you to know that they all think this of you.

“I didn’t mean to.”

It’s a lie that you push out, you're trying to find anything to argue about, anything to distract from what was actually happening.

“Ducky, it would be okay if you did. You’ve been struggling and it’s understandable. All we want from now on is for you to be honest with us, no judgement, just tell us what you are feeling.”

Beth’s voice is so soft, you almost want to give in, but Vilda is in your head, screaming at you for being weak and vulnerable after passing out on the pitch after playing with the flu, and your reminded once again that there isn’t space in the world for people like you to have feelings.

“I want you to fucking believe me when I tell you that I am fine and stop suffocating me.”

All of the women share looks above your head, and somehow, telepathically, majority of them sag off from the huddle, leaving you room.

You're left with the main group of girls who have been controlling the situation.

Viv, Beth, Leah, Kim and Katie.

“liefde, you clearly aren’t fine. Whatever it is, you can talk to us, we’re here for you, whatever you need.”

It shouldn’t cause you to break down, but the pain in your heart and the look in Viv’s eyes sends you barrelling over a very high cliff.

You're sobbing, and struggling to breathe, blood rushing to your ears and preventing you from feeling anything besides the deep depression that has been building up in you for years now.

It hits you like a double decker bus.

Before you can really start to panic though, someone is climbing onto the bed beside you, bringing you into their lap and arms and embracing you.

“It’s okay ducky, we’ve got you, you’re safe with us.”

The sweet nothings are murmured lowly into your ear, the genuinity continuing until the mixture of a mental breakdown and panic attack subside and you’re just a tired, pained mess.

“M’ sorry.”

Your words are hummed into the chest of whoever has climbed in beside you in the hospital bed.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, do you want to talk about it?”

The long answer is no, you don’t want to talk about any of it, but you can’t help the sense that a part of you might feel a little bit better if you let something off your chest.

“Talk about what?”

It’s a genuine question, because there is so much happening in your brain that you aren’t even sure where to start.

“Whatever you’d like.”

You think that’s a stupid statement, because for all Leah knows you could want to talk about the weather, and that doesn’t seem particularly helpful.

“Jorge?”

It seems like starting with the source of your problems probably saves yourself from a lot of beating astound the bush.

“If that’s what you want, ducky, we’re all just here to listen to you, no matter what it is.”

You peak your head out of Leah’s sweater, and you’re met with the supportive faces of the four other women sitting around your bedside.

“When I started for him I was 16. For a long while, the older girls shielded me from him, Mapi and Jenni especially. But my young innocence only lasted so long, when I was 19, he did some really fucked up things, that was when he changed. Mapi, Claudia, Patri and I were the ones who spoke out, and it was the right thing to do, but it put a target on our backs immediately, especially with Alexia out with her ACL injury and unable to support us all. He was so mean to us all, always criticising, never giving us breaks, running us till we were sick or injuring ourselves. He used to wake us up at 2am in the morning to go running because he said we were getting lazy. It was around then that they all signed the statement to withdraw, and I would have loved to do it with them, but I just couldn’t. It only got worse from there for me, especially during the world cup, I was having panic attacks everyday and he couldn’t have cared less. All he did was push me, to the point where Alexia had to mind me everyday because of how bad I was getting.”

You took a deep breath, you wouldn’t allow yourself to look at them, not right now, not until you were done.

“That was when I started to think about killing myself. It wasn’t because I don’t love my life and my friends, but, Jorge was devoting his life to making mine a living hell, and nobody wants that. He never had anything nice to say to me, always criticism, always negativity. Then we won, and none of it mattered, but then there was everything in the press, and I was being slaughtered for all of it because apparently I was enabling his abuse, and I can’t handle that, I can’t handle being told that I enabled abuse that I was dealt for years, maybe I should have told someone, but who? All of the physios, all the doctors, they all worked for him, nobody was going to turn on him. He created an environment where all of us girls were miserable and competing against each other for no reason.”

Leah stopped you with a bone crushing hug.

They’d all heard stories about the Spanish Women’s team, speculation, rumours, hearsay.

But hearing first hand experience from their teammate, somebody they loved, it killed them all on the insides, because how could someone treat their ducky like that? How could someone be so horrible?

“Thank you for trusting us to tell us that ducky. You didn’t deserve any of that, nobody does. From now on, we’re all here for you, you don’t have to hide it all, no more hiding, we’re here for you every step of the way.”

You try your hardest to believe Leah, but it’s a uphill battle, especially when your brain is conditioned to think she is lying.

Leah seemed to notice how spent you were, your body completely relaxed against her, your state near catatonic.

“Get some sleep ducky, we’ve got you, I promise we’ll do everything to make sure you never feel like this again.”

When Leah says it, you believe her, because there is one thing that your mind can’t betray you about, and that is that Leah, and all the other women surrounding you would do anything to protect you, and to make sure that you felt loved, to make up for the lack that you’d been experiencing for the last while.

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missviviii · 4 months

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a/n: zayne my boo <3 im sobbing over the fact that the game killed off mc’s grandma and caleb 😭

ミ★ Love & Deep Space ミ★

pairing: zayne x fem!reader

warning(s): mentions of death, mentions of the explosion that killed mc’s grandma + childhood best friend (caleb) in game, spoilers(?)

Summary: Ever since that day, you’ve fallen in a deep, dark pit. Why did you have to be the one that they decide to destroy? Why did Caleb and Grandma have to die? Is it your fault they did? Zayne, as your primary care physician and a family friend, is concerned for your well-being.

“Sometimes, a small gesture is all it takes.”

The sound of the news on your TV, the thundering rain outside, the sound of the cars driving by your apartment—it all blurs out as you stared at the TV screen, eyes dead and unfocused on the news of the Wanderers attacking and the explosions. Some 22 casualties, two deaths. Grandma and Caleb. His necklace that you bought him as a goodbye gift when he left for the Aerospace Academy sits beside a picture of you, him, and Grandma on the coffee table, the cheerful smiles making you wished that you could revisit time.

Your apartment, once somewhat organized and clean, is now messy with things being knocked down and dirty dishes long discarded. You stare at the one last thing your Grandma left for you, some..tablet(?) with a final letter on it. You haven’t gotten the energy or the ability to open it. It pains you, seeing that you haven’t visited for so long yet when you do, this was the time her house had to explode right in front of you, flames engulfing the house and the only thing that remained was Caleb’s necklace.

“I miss you, Grandma..” You mumbled to nobody, rubbing the tears threatening to spill out your eyes as you glanced down at the item she left you with. Besides that, a small box of her old recipes of those notecards, and other small things that she had entrusted to you years before.

Around you was your laptop, papers and files on the latest Wanderer attacks around you. Yes, Captain Jenna dismissed you and said that you should take some days off to regain your energy, since you haven’t been getting the sleep or the energy you needed, but you just couldn’t.

Your door opened, yet you didn’t bother to look at who entered. “Still sitting in front of the TV?” A familiar voice spoke out, flipping the light switch on and shutting the door behind him. It was Zayne, a long time family friend and your primary care physician. “You haven’t eaten,” he bluntly says as he sets a bag of food on your table and walked into the kitchen. He bites back a sigh, knowing that you were going through a tough time, and people tended to discard everything and grieve and grieve their hearts out.

“Hello to you too, Zayne,” you replied as you shut off the news and got up off your sofa. You pile up all the papers and files you’ve scattered around and set them on the coffee table before you walk into the kitchen as Zayne is cleaning up your dirty dishes. He checks in on you whenever he’s free or when he’s off his shift. He looks back at you, only making a small hum of acknowledgment before cleaning up your dirty kitchen. You looked terrible—eyes red and puffy from crying, obvious eye bags, and the sparkles from your eyes were gone.

You yawn as you take out a bowl and some utensils for whatever food he brought in for you. You unpacked the bag as he cleaned up the dishes you couldn’t bother doing last week. Potatoes, avocado on the side, tuna salad, salmon and rice you said to yourself as you took out the food that he had carefully backed in those plastic containers for you. Then you took out the last thing. Cookie..dough? He remembered your favorite childhood snack. The kind of cookie dough you liked.

“Your grandma gave me a recipe for the cookie dough. She said that if she couldn’t make it, I should since it lightens your mood,” Zayne says as he puts your clean dishes back into the cabinet. He dries his hand off before walking over to you, watching how you stare at it like a piece of gold. Disbelief and shock were etched on your face.

Zayne puts his hand on your back, soothingly rubbing circles as you opened the container and took a bite. Your eyes almost brimmed with tears again. You could remember how your grandma used to bake in the kitchen and you’d always sneak a bite or two of the cookie dough, no care in the world if you could get salmonella.

“Thank..you, Zayne,” you finally said, turning around tightly hugging him. He was a bit hesitant at first, but he put his hand on your head, massaging your scalp as he looked down at you with a gentle look on his face.

“..You’re welcome. I miss her too.”

Zayne’s eyes looked away at the picture on the counter of your grandma. She didn’t have to go out this way.

#love and deepspace #zayne x reader #zayne x mc #vivi’s writing✫彡 #writing #i wanna write #x reader #fanfiction #for funsies #i almost cried #fanfic #my darling <3 #this game is so good #send me asks #love & deepspace #love & deepspace fluff #little bit of angst

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simeons-gf · 5 months

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into the eyes of fire

satan who loves eye contact <3 (some nsfw)

notes - gn reader until nsfw (afab), pussy eatin’ :p, p in v, overstimulation, soft nsfw~

a/n ☆ quick lil hcs as a cb post !! v v v short cus i’m sleepy {2 a.m. as i’m writing this ʅ（◞‿◟）ʃ}

satan who:

loves to look into your gorgeous eyes while he tells you about the most recent book he’s read, or while you’re telling him about something you learned recently.

looks into everyone’s eyes, if he’s paying attention, to show he is actively listening and participating.

gazes into your softened eyes before he presses a soft, chaste kiss to your soft lips.

finds it adorable when you close your eyes or turn away as he whispers compliments, telling you how beautiful you are and how lucky he is to have you.

nsfw ○ below

looks into your eyes from his position between your legs, overstimulating you until your eyes tear up.

holds your face gently and reminds you to look at him as he slowly thrusts in and out of you, bringing you to your third or fourth orgasm (but hey, who’s counting… satan is).

#🎧﹐ıllı vivi’s hcs ﹒ ♡#obey me #obey me fluff #obey me smut #obey me angst #obey me x reader #satan #satan x reader #asmodeus x reader #beelzebub x reader #belphegor x reader #leviathan x reader #lucifer x reader #mammon x reader #simeon x reader #diavolo x reader #barbatos x reader #solomon x reader #satan + ghost = <3333

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firstdivisiongirl · 7 months

Note

Hey I am a really big fan of your writing and I love it it so much

This is the first time I request anything so please bear with me if I did anything wrong

Can I request Law with a fem reader that is his girlfriend but he keeps feeling he is not enough and starts distancing him self from her and acting cold because he feels something bad will happen if he acts like him self?and when she confronts him he denies anything wrong which makes their relationship grow cold

Angst to fluff the more angst the better please

Hi @phsycochan! I am so happy to hear that you like my writing. Thank you for the kind words. I am so happy that people like you are turning in a lot of Law scenarios. He's one of my favorites. I love writing for him, but I never do for some reason. I hope you enjoy this!

WARNINGS: ANGST! HURT TO COMFORT!

Law x Female Reader: Distance Between Us

He let you into your life. You were his girl. But, he wasn’t acting or treating you that way. He was treating you more like a stranger. One that he’d pass and never see again. This wasn’t the Trafalgar Law you knew and loved. You wanted the distance between you to shrink. He’d listen to you, right?

To him, you were his everything. You were the girl of his dreams. However, he never felt like he deserved you. Everyone he loved died one way or another. He wasn’t strong enough to protect them, so how could he protect you? So he kept you far away, you’d be safer and happier that way, right?

You had asked him why. But, he ignored you. You told him you loved him. But, he ignored you. The distance between you only grew. Finally, after months and months of this, you decided to try again.

You walked into his office. But everything was a mess. His usual neat desk was covered in papers. His organized bookshelf was a complete disaster with books clearly not in alphabetical order. The bags under his eyes were as large, if not larger, than the day you met. What happened to him, you thought.

“What happened,” you asked, breaking the icy silence between you two.

He went back to his work, “nothing.”

“No! Something is wrong. You treat me like I mean nothing to you! What’s going on? You can’t treat me like this?”

“It’s better this way!” You could see the vein on his forehead starting to protrude.

“NO IT’S NOT!!!!! Look at you! You’re a mess and…”

“ENOUGH!,” he interrupted your speech, “I’m not a child. I can handle this on my own. I don’t need you.”

You ran out of the room crying. You both sat there, wondering what you could have done differently.

****

Three months have passed with the same coldness between you. You two could barely look at each other, let alone be in the same confined space. So you made the hard decision to leave the Heart Pirates. That’s how you got to where you are now. Everyone on the crew was so sad, especially Bepo. He wanted to believe that you and Law would work it all out and get back together.

As everyone said their goodbyes to you, Law was inside. He wanted to respect your decision, but he knew he really messed up. He kept hearing what Ikkaku told him before she and the rest of the crew left to say goodbyes. “She fell in love with you because you were you. You were so worried about losing her that you caused her to leave. Put on your big girl panties and tell her how you feel.” Ikkaku was right, so he ran out of his office before it was too late.

You were about to leave when you heard someone yell. “Wait,” Law yelled, running up to you. When he reached you he kissed you passionately. It reminded you of the first time he kissed you. The magic was still there.

He continued, “I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I was just afraid of losing you. I didn’t mean any of it. I love you Y/N. Please stay.” You nodded your head, tears streaming down your face

It would take time and effort, but the two of you would try. This distance between you was finally dwindling.

Please do not copy, modify, translate, or repost my writing on other platforms. Comments, reblogs or likes are highly appreciated!

#one piece #trafalgar d vivi #traflagar law #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar d law x you #law one piece #law x y/n #law x you #law x reader #trafalgar law x you #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x y/n #trafalgar d law #law trafalgar #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #one piece angst

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jenniejjun · 2 months

Text

❛the only hoax to believe in.❜

| tentou tantas vezes reescrever a história, lhes dar um final melhor do que aquele que lee jeno escolheu para vocês. entretanto, no fim, sempre foi maior que você. e sempre seria.

lee jeno x leitora!fem ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ | ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐒.

filho de atena!lee jeno. percy jackson au. enemies to lovers. filha de apolo!leitora. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤmitologia greco-romana.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐃𝐀 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐀.

Eu demorei, eu sei. Mas eu já reescrevi tanto essa au que vocês não tem nem noção, nada tava bom até que uma luzinha piscou na minha cabeça e eu adaptei algumas partes da história e escrevi de novo. A essa altura, meio que tenho que avisar que vai ser uma short fic isso aqui. Não vou dizer ao certo quantos capítulos porque pode ser que eu consigo encaixar tudo no próximo já, mas pode ser que tenha mais de dois. Dedico essa aqui pra @ncdreaming que acertou o Jeno filho de Atena! É só uma au divertidinha galera, não tô afim de desrespeitar a obra original e também não sou estudiosa de mitologia grega ou romana. Meu conhecimento é bem básico e a maioria daqui é baseada nos livros de Percy Jackson, então aviso desde já que os comentários referentes aos Deuses não devem ser levados como ofensa direta aos Deuses reais do Panteão Grego/Romano. Aliás, perdoem a edição porquissíma da camiseta do acampamento meio-sangue no Jeno, eu tentei meu melhor. Os avisos tão curtinhos porque essa parte é bem introdutória mas pelo início, vocês já adivinham que vai ter recheio de angst nisso aqui né. Boa sorte! E não é necessária conhecimento original da obra pra ler isso aqui, podem ficar tranquilos! Mas pra quem já leu, tem algumas referências aos livros.

Lee Jeno era um traidor.

Mas antes de tudo, ele era seu Neno.

Como um conto de fadas doce como mel, todos sabiam como tinham se conhecido. Você acabava de chegar no Acampamento Meio-Sangue, uma criança assustada com o conceito de que toda sua vida passaria a mudar a partir dali. E Jeno estava ali, muito mais valente do que você e muito mais esperto também.

Era com ele que havia aprendido tudo.

Se conheceram durante o caminho, o sátiro que cuidava para que você chegasse em segurança no Acampamento tinha sido encarregado por cuidar de Jeno também. Havia sido vocês três durante toda a viagem, entretanto, era claro que era o Lee quem os guiava. Parecia maduro demais para um garoto de doze anos e você meio que admirava isso nele.

Todas as vezes em que ele brigou com você por ficar parada num ataque eram sempre remediados com Jeno matando algum monstro para te proteger, após te lançar um olhar duro e lhe jogar uma adaga. Os meses com Jeno foram cruciais para que aprendesse a lutar por si mesma, acabando com cada monstro que aparecia em sua frente.

O sátiro, que você nunca conseguia se lembrar do nome dele— talvez, fosse a diferença gritante de idade entre vocês. Essa que fazia com que ele fosse muito mais um protetor para você e Jeno do que um amigo—, ficava de vigia para que pudessem dormir quando ficavam cansados demais.

Essa era sua parte favorita.

As noites faziam com que Lee Jeno ficasse mais vulnerável, mais disposto a conversações que, sem sono algum, consideraria banais. Vocês dormiam lado a lado, assim seria mais prático caso precisassem sair correndo, e então, você perguntava qualquer coisa.

'Como havia descoberto que era um semideus? Onde morava? Quais suas matérias favoritas na escola? Ele também era diferente como você? Quem eram seus pais?'

Ainda que a última sempre permanecesse sem resposta, você se contentava com os grunhidos mal-humorados ou, às vezes, quando ele sorria maldoso após te cortar de uma forma rude que te fazia corar mas que não te ofendia necessariamente. Em troca, ele falava como você era curiosa.

Mas sempre te fazia algumas perguntas também.

Os meses foram se passando e mesmo que as circunstância fossem ruins, você gostava de passar um tempo com Jeno. Até mesmo tinha desenvolvido um apelido carinhoso para irritá-lo quando ele fingia dormir para não falar com você, ele odiava. Mas Neno era muito melhor do que chamá-lo de Lee só porque ele queria.

Ele era seu amigo, posto que pudesse discordar apenas para chateá-la. As poucas técnicas nas quais possuía, dividiu com você, se assegurando de protegê-la. Elas caíam bem e no final de uma luta, Jeno sempre bagunçava seus cabelos e dizia que tinha se saído medianamente bem. Te chamava de 'criança', apesar de terem a mesma idade.

Como uma rotina que vocês seguiam todos os dias antes de encararem os grandes pilares do Acampamento Meio-Sangue, em busca de segurança, tudo isso se repetia. Você achava que nada ia mudar.

Até o dia em que viram o grande pinheiro que o protetor de vocês sempre mencionava, ele significava segurança. A proteção de vocês sendo indicada a poucos metros de distância. Aquela foi a primeira vez que sentiu o fio do destino que as Parcas tinham reservado para você interpretar seu papel.

Foi tudo muito rápido.

A fúria, Alecto, voava até vocês. Seus gritos não eram tão assustadores quanto sua aparência, as asas protuberantes nas costas e o rosto deformado fizeram você gritar ao se desviar de uma investida. Entretanto, a forma como Jeno gritou seu nome fez com que pensasse o contrário.

"Você está bem? Se machucou?", ele perguntou frenético. Era cômico se voltasse a pensar como ele pareceria muito mais velho do que era mesmo te chacoalhando daquela forma. Como se já tivesse tido que proteger alguém antes. "Ei!"

Quiçá, seu estado atordoado tivesse o assustado. Ou a força com que caira no chão, agora você sentia o impacto em suas costelas. Entretanto, segurou em sua adaga com força.

"Tô bem, Neno!", mas antes que pudesse completar a frase, Alecto se aproximava mais uma vez. Era tudo demais para sua cabeça, o sátiro protetor gritando para que corressem, Jeno tentando te puxar para que desviasse e a fúria concentrando seu ataque nele. Quando viu, apenas agiu. "Cuidado!"

O empurrando, você sentiu as pequenas garras presentes nas— aquilo eram patas? Acreditava que não poderia perguntar no meio de uma luta— suas vestes. Te levantando do chão, os gritos horrorizados dos dois rapazes abaixo de si ecoavam. Você se lembrou apenas de seguir seu instinto semideus, o mesmo que Jeno tinha falado tantas vezes.

Fincou sua adaga nela ao mesmo tempo que sentiu o chão em suas costas, o monstro que estava acima de você havia sumido. E logo, Lee Jeno em seu campo de visão.

"Ficou louca, foi? O que aconteceu com 'tô bem'?", gritou com você te puxando pra cima e te levantando. Percebeu que estavam, agora, a dois passos da entrada do infame Acampamento. Pensou se havia desmaiado lá em cima por um tempo, ou se era estranho que o tempo tivesse se passado tão devagar assim para que a fúria pudesse te carregar tão longe. "Você podia ter morrido."

Uma onda de fúria te percorreu, o que te fez empurrá-lo. O rapaz metade-bode atrás de vocês gesticulava desesperado para que entrassem logo, tentando puxá-los.

"Será que você sabe agradecer? Ela estava indo direto pra você e eu acabei de te salvar!"

"Eu podia ter cuidado dela sozinho, não precisava que se metesse!"

"Não precisava, mas eu quis! É difícil de acreditar que alguém também esteja disposto a te salvar tanto quanto você salva os outros?", e era verdade. Jamais ficaria brava assim com Lee Jeno, ou jamais pensou, mas os meses que se estenderam entre sua conexão só lhe mostravam o quanto Jeno havia feito por você.

Precisava ser capaz de fazer o mesmo, tanto para si mesma quanto para ele. Entretanto, o olhar de ódio de Jeno não desapareceu. Nem mesmo o seu quando, após revirar os olhos, se virou e tardou a andar para dentro do Acampamento. A barreira criando um espaço mágico entre vocês.

Um emocional também, pensou consigo mesma. Mas jamais disse.

E então, no Acampamento, você achou que algo ia mudar. Afinal, se separaram. Cada semideus ali tinha seu próprio chalé, construído e designado para cada Deus grego. E é claro que Lee Jeno, com sua determinação e coragem, não ficou um minuto a mais sem sua reivindicação. O filho de Atena tinha muitos companheiros, irmãos, e você permanecia sem reivindicação. Instalada no chalé de Hermes até segunda ordem.

Era ótimo como estavam sem amigos e, agora, sem um pai ou mãe que ligasse o suficiente para você para lhe assumir.

Não sabia se ria ou chorava que sua única companhia era um filho de Apolo incrivelmente convencido que também não tinha amigos, pois dizia que o loiro do cabelo dele era brilho demais para alguém suportar. Mark Lee era o semideus mais convencido que você já tinha conhecido, tanto que te lembrava um pouquinho de Jeno, mas com certeza o primeiro Lee que conheceu em sua vida era mais fechado do que esse.

Todavia, era ingratidão reclamar. Mesmo que, no final das contas, ele fosse seu irmão. E você não precisasse gostar dele o tempo todo, mesmo que o melhor amigo pervertido dele morresse por uma chance com você, mesmo que crescer rodeada de três garotos fosse terrível.

Nem mesmo quando a adorável namorada de Mark entrou em cena para que te ajudar a se livrar da testosterona em excesso. Pelo menos, ali, você possuía amigos que entendiam a condição da palavra. Tinha certeza de Yuta, Haechan e Mark pulariam no rio Lete e deixariam lá todas as suas memórias, por você.

Logo, você era grata. Não devia reclamar. Mas sentia falta dele.

Crescer no Acampamento Meio-Sangue foi a melhor coisa em sua vida, você nunca havia voltado ou olhado para trás em sua vida e sentia-se muito bem com isso. Pois ali, tinha uma família. No entanto, crescer no mesmo local em que Lee Jeno se tornava um herói no acampamento era péssimo.

Fazia com que quisesse gritar.

Nunca haviam se resolvido desde o dia em que chegaram e, praticamente, todo o Acampamento sabia da relação odiosa correndo entre vocês. Era um entendimento silencioso no local. As caças à bandeira eram intensas, onde acabavam sempre entre uma briga de espadas entre vocês.

Aquela faceta condescendente e o sorriso preguiçoso que despojava incessantemente ainda te irritavam como ninguém. Na adolescência, era algo mais banal. Bobo. Era uma raivinha que fazia você querer quebrar o escudo dele, um presente de Atena, e ao mesmo tempo abraçá-lo.

"Está ficando descuidada, raio-de-sol", Lee Jeno dizia girando sua espada pesada entre os dedos como se fosse papel. Era como te chamava desde que se mudara para o chalé de Apolo, após a reivindicação. "Precisa abaixar os joelhos e separar as pernas, pensei que tivesse te ensinado direito", e então, terminaria com você partindo pra cima dele com um rugido irritado de guerra.

Outrora, você passaria por seu lado na cafeteria e sorriria educada antes de dizer, próxima ao seu ouvido:

"Indo almoçar com seus fãs outra vez?", sabendo que ele odiava a atenção que recebia de todos.

Algumas vezes, nas quais os campistas treinavam a mando de Quíron e Sr. D, Jeno fazia questão de ser sua dupla e tomar-lhe a espada. Uma em sua garganta enquanto a outra mão mantinha sua arma em cativeiro, ambos ofegantes da luta incessante. Atraíam alguns olhos curiosos.

"Cansada?", costumava zombar.

Mas o charme convencido dele acabaria com a forma em que te via manipular a luz para cegá-lo momentaneamente, assim recuperando sua espada de volta e o jogando no cão.

"Cansado, Neno?", você responderia de volta e se deleitaria na forma como a expressão dele sempre parecia falhar quando decidia o usar o antigo apelido de infância dele.

Destarte, sua vida era como um vezo. Circulando vezes suficientes até que se completasse de modo que se iniciasse novamente, com Lee Jeno no topo de todas as coisas. Mark habituava de provocar-lhe imensamente com tal, insistindo que tudo isso era tensão acumulada.

"Vocês se gostam, isso sim. 'Tão é frustrados que não fizeram as pazes até hoje e não sabem porque continuam brigando", seu irmão, o sempre sincero, amava pontuar. Porém, você discordava. De modo algum, imaginava-se retornando a amizade que, um dia, cultivou com Jeno.

Ainda assim, tal visto que não era o suficiente para que se evitassem completamente.

Você tinha que admitir que ainda que se encontrasse no Acampamento Meio-Sangue por quase toda sua vida, a segurança das barreiras de proteção era muito mais confortável do que a vida heroica que muitos semideuses eram designados. Era uma semideusa excepcional, sabia disso, e já experienciara adrenalina suficiente para uma vida inteira nos poucos meses que esteve nas ruas com Jeno.

Mas era quase impossível se esconder da glória e poder que te encontravam se o Oráculo te decidisse como um herói.

Particularmente, era uma criatura estranha na qual você não fazia muita questão de entender ou sequer ver. Diferentemente de seus amigos, que pareciam fascinados com a magia desta. Você só tinha visto o Oráculo uma vez, quando subiu ao sótão da Casa Grande. Era um corpo decomposto, apoiado em uma cadeira estranha de três pernas, mas você não se atreveu a chamá-lo. Havia estudado livros gregos o suficiente para saber que o Oráculo só podia ser convocado para ditar as profecias, naquela época, quem diria que essa seria você.

Pois é, agora, você diria.

‘O filho da sabedoria caminha acompanhado

A Marca de Atena por toda Roma é espalhado

Gêmeos ceifaram do anjo a vida

Que detém a chave para a morte infinita

A ruína dos gigantes se apresenta dourada e pálida

Conquistada por meio da dor de uma prisão tecida’

As palavras dela eram bem claras, não existia espaço para interpretação. E você tinha a impressão de que não existia outra prole de Atena caindo pelos céus pra que se juntasse à você, entretanto, poderia haver outra criança de Apolo a se juntar a ele. A escolha era de Lee Jeno, como os Deuses te odiavam, e por alguma razão, ele havia escolhido você.

Mesmo que quisesse, você optou por não questionar. Preferiria afogar-se em suas teorias banais do que escutar Jeno lhe dizer que a única razão pela qual teria lhe escolhido era porque eram os únicos a já terem compartilhado a estrada um com o outro.

As horas eram longas entre vocês, sempre tentando focar na trilha ao invés da auto-sabotagem de sua mente. Tinham escolhido o caminho do sátiro para maior segurança, encontrando alguns em sua jornada pela busca de Pã. Você não precisava olhar para frente para ver a preocupação e confusão em Jeno.

A natureza estava agitada, por alguma razão.

Tentou ocupar-se com o questionamento do por que estariam saindo dali, ambos assustados e com suas mochilas de viagem. O destino sendo um lugar que apenas teria ouvido em suas histórias mais fantasiosas, a Atena Partenos era um conto que costumava ouvir quando criança.

Uma estátua que traria paz entre os romanos e gregos. A mesma que representava o sinal de respeito no Partenon. Mas como fariam isso, algo que estava desaparecido há tanto tempo? Quanto tempo demorariam procurando aquilo? Por que Atena teria escolhido Jeno, especificamente, para essa missão se existiam filhos mais experientes em batalha?

Era algum tipo de tortura doentia que os Deuses pretendiam pregar, certamente.

Você não precisava de muitos anos no Acampamento, como teve, para não se surpreender caso esta fosse a resolução de tudo. Ainda se lembra de todas as vezes em que Mark chorou em seu aniversário por nunca ter tido nem mesmo uma mensagem de Íris vinda de Apolo para se gabar.

O coração apertava quando lembrava da forma como ele lhe implorou para tomar cuidado e voltar logo.

“Consigo ver sua cabeça martelando daqui, está me distraindo”, Jeno se pronunciou monótono. O mapa mágico que segurava confuso à olho nu.

Você riu, cheia de escárnio. “Só pode ‘tá de brincadeira com a minha cara, né? Isso é humanamente impossível.”

“Não somos humanos.”

“Sim, nós somos. Você só tá querendo implicar comigo”, teriam parado naquela altura. O moreno estava virado completamente para você agora, seu peito subia e descia com a adrenalina de uma briga.

“Ou talvez, a maneira como fica suspirando de cinco em cinco segundos esteja me irritando!”, exclamou irritado.

Ah, ele estava irritado? O cara que mal falava com você e te escolhia pra uma missão mortal.

“Qual é a sua, Jeno? Foi você quem me enfiou nessa”, gritou frustrada. Por um momento, esqueceu-se de que não eram pessoas normais e que gritos podiam atrair monstros. “Provavelmente, devia ter pensado melhor antes de escolher a primeira pessoa que passou pela sua cabeça.”

Isso pareceu ofendê-lo. Como se tivesse estapeado sua face ou lhe xingado. Lee Jeno se aproximou com toda sua marra e glória, os olhos soltando faíscas invisíveis porém decisivas de raiva em sua direção. O peito subia e descia descompassado com a irritação da sua acusação. Contudo, você não parecia se importar, pois tomou um passo assim como ele. Anos de tensão mal resolvida entre vocês.

De repente, toda a raiva da noite em que chegavam no Acampamento Meio-Sangue retornava.

Apesar disso, você estava exausta. Não queria brigar com Jeno outra vez, não como nas milhares de vezes que já haviam feito no Acampamento. Para uma garota da sua idade, pode parecer bobeira que tivesse se apegado tanto a momentos viandantes de uma fuga que tinha se passado há tanto tempo atrás. Contudo, você sentia falta da maneira como poderiam dormir um ao lado do outro com sorrisos nos rostos após conversarem por horas ao redor de uma fogueira. Pelos Deuses, sentia falta até mesmo do olhar caloroso que Jeno lhe lançava quando bagunçava seus cabelos.

Agora, era como se a cada dia que se passasse o perdesse detidamente.

E mesmo que nunca fosse admitir em voz alta, a dor sentia sempre que brigava com ele era parecida com a dor de perdê-lo tudo de novo. Desprendendo-se de suas emoções internas, as palavras de Mark Lee, vez ou outra, faziam sentido. Você esteve apaixonada por Lee Jeno desde os seus doze anos de idade. Leve como vento e azedo como um limão, chegou a percepção tão rápido que mal percebeu os braços de Jeno ao seu redor para puxar-lhe para o arbusto mais próximo.

Perante a isso, podia dizer, egoisticamente, que sentia-se grata por terem encontrado um monstro grande o suficiente que atrapalhasse sua mente ao maquinar tais lembranças.

Os olhos de Jeno eram ávidos como os de uma águia, preocupados com a futura ameaça eminente. Mas a forma como lhe abraçava como se fosse a coisa mais preciosa do mundo para ele não deixava que seu cérebro funcionasse de maneira correta para combater aquele mal.

Era o que devia ter feito, contudo. Prestado atenção. Pois no segundo seguinte, Jeno não te segurava mais. Estava sendo arrastado para longe por dois ciclopes enormes enquanto tudo que podia fazer era olhar.

#₊‧ ˖ ࣪ ་ 🐇 works by vivi #nct dream #nct dream x reader #lee jeno x reader #jeno x reader #nct dream angst #lee jeno angst #percy jackson au #nct pt br

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anotherrosesthatfell · 7 months

Text

I couldn't resist 💀. Remember this ask?

Yeah I twisted the story and here we are..

Meet Callisto Luther! (AI name = Nox Luther)

Vishenka (cherry) and I were having conversation and I got idea omg

So basically, Hope and Dream had a fight which cause their magics to combine and created Callisto. Hope lost all of their magics because if a witch gave birth or create a living being, their magics will be transferred to the child.

Hope is powerless and Dream feels overwhelmed so he couldn't take care of Callisto (What a pain in the ass!)

Hope take care of Callisto then Lux because the original had to stick around lmao.

He hates Killermare family and he hates Dream and his family too (expect for Lux, he cares deeply for his little sister <3) (Even so he respects women-)

His opinion on people

Dream

"A massive headache. I am ashamed I was born from a fight... What a pain.. I really hate him. I don't care that he neglected me but what pisses me off that he dare to abandoned my little sister and mom all by their own! I don't curse because Mom really dislike it..."

Hope

"Mom is doing better. I really wished that I never inherited Mom's power... Mom is was so weak that she couldn't even eat.."

Lux

"my adorable little sister!!! I really adore her, she is my light of this horrible world. She support me to take the throne and I will! I'll make sure to give her everything once the throne is mine."

Palette

"Even if he is my brother... I will never see him as one... Arrogant little brat, he dare to bully my little sister and tell everyone that she is crazy because of a revengeful spirit? That's stupid-"

Drop

"I heard the little girl is locked in the castle for years now. I never see her appearance and I don't think anyone do. Dream kept her away from world... What a pain.."

Ink

"I don't care if she is kind or pretty. She is depressing- I don't like the fact she cope with depression. Drinking... That's just terrible. She needs help, a therapy will be good."

Alphonse (Corrupted Nightmare)

"I am holding myself from cursing... I hate him. That's the final."

Crescent

"I can't believe Dream is this stupid. Taking a child of an enemy as priest? This kingdom chances of getting attacked are very high.."

Angst (If he were alive)

"The crown prince of darkness kingdom... I don't know much about him. Rumours say he isolated himself from the world and waiting for death to take him."

Merciless

"I never interact with him. Sometimes I saw him walking next to Palette, sometimes he sat alone and sometimes... He feels so empty. He don't resemble the darkness king at all so I don't think I should hate him. Beside he is gives a really calming vibe."

Goth

"Oh lady Goth! Lux really adore her best friend. I'm glad Lux has someone to rely on. Lady Goth is genuinely kind to Lux. Even if she is close to Palette, she still treat Lux nicely and never believe in any of Palette's lies."

Bonus

Artemis belong to @itzcherrybonbon /@abloomingsunflower

"The precious daughter of the king I despise. Ugh... Well she is kind of pretty, I give her that. Mom said not to hate on her since I don't know anything about her.. Well she told me not to hate on anyone but I did it anyway. As long she don't interfere in my way on taking the throne, I'll be nice to her..."

Vivi belong to @canon-vi

"Oh my other little sister? Well she is adorable! Lux really adore Vivi so much and I am the same. Though, we don't spend much time together because she is a princess and has her own duty."

Kira belong to @canon-vi

"I will never understand why Dream took another child of an enemy to be a priestess... At least she is kind and look nothing like Alphonse. I am not that religious so I don't visit the church that often."

#evil lux au #what if #what if timeline #undertale au #ship child #Lux sans #dream sans #Callisto [e.l.a]#ink sans #a sunflower in full bloom au #kira [e.l.a]#Artemis #merciless sans #crescent sans #angst sans #vivi [e.l.a]

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vivianette · 2 years

Text

🍓AN: @virtue-and-beneviolence babe u sent me ask about justice for our whore, shuji being loyal and I accidentally deleted the draft aND I DIDNT KNOW ITLL DELETE THE ASK TOO😭😭 anyways all I wanna say is someone who had beef with a hanma stan woke up and decided to spew bs on the internet and the rest of the fandom decided to run with it.

🍓Synopsis: hanma is a loyal person cannonly so here is a lil something about that.

🍓Pairing: Hanma Shuji x Female Reader

🍓Warnings: angst/fluff, manga spoiler about kisaki’s you know what.

Hanma Shuji was a lot of things, a thief, a con man, a criminal and an absolute menace to society but he was definitely not a cheater. He carved your name on his heart the day the three big words were exchanged. Hanma gave you his heart and he wasn’t planning on asking it back anytime soon or ever. There weren’t many concrete things in his life, not many things he was sure of but you were there, he’d never been more sure about anything in his life so when you asked that silly little question of yours it hurt, it hurt real bad. “Shuji would you ever think about cheating on me?” You asked giggling. It was a harmless question, you were joking, he knew you were, you had the stupid little habit of asking him pointless questions and what ifs you came across on tiktok but the question still made him sad and honestly a bit offended.

He scoffed leaning back on the couch looking directly at you with such an unpleasant expression you almost regretted asking him that in the first place. “Why don’t you tell me if I were to cheat on you or not” he stated sternly folding his arms, his eyes daring you to say that he would. The sudden change in atmosphere was painfully suffocating, it was just supposed to be a funny joke like all of your other questions you’ve asked him, he had never mind those before he’d even answer them so creatively like when you asked him if he’d still love you if you were a worm he didn’t waste a second to tell you that he’d search for nutrient rich soil to keep you in with the finest and reddest apples he could find to feed you and even build you lego theme parks. So you weren’t expecting him to get all serious about this stuff.

You were finding the right words to not further offend him as you nervously laughed “I uh I hope not shuji come on it doesn’t matter it jus-“ “it matters to me Y/N, what my girlfriend thinks about my faithfulness to her and our relationship does matter” he says with such hurt in his eyes it made you sad. It’s not just this that has been bothering him for a while now but also when that one friend of yours keeps telling you about him looking like he’d cheat, something about the “vibes” he give, whatever the fuck that means. He had been nothing but a faithful partner, not just to you but also to his deceased best friend. He still visits his grave regularly with flowers for fucks sake. Hanma is not dumb he knows what talk goes around about his relationship with you. ‘He’d get bored of her’ ‘they won’t last long’ she’d find someone better’ and he knows that you might. Hanma Shuji, the man who has it all, doesn’t look like it but deep down he’s insecure and he tries to the fullest to give you the best of everything. Sure he’s not great at expressing shit with his words when it comes to mushy stuff but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you or would ever even think about cheating on you. He just wishes you’d give him more credibility than that.

Your gaze soften when you hear him say those words. Ever since you got together with him you’ve been slowly trying to make him more expressive about his feelings and his words right now made you both proud and extremely guilty for even questioning his loyalty to you even if it was just a joke. You quickly walk over to where he was seated and take his hands in yours sitting beside him “I’m so so sorry Shuji” you say “I had no intentions to hurt you like that” he’s looking at you waiting for you to finish. You felt stupid to even ask it in the first place when your here looking at the matching necklace around his neck that you both got on your first anniversary. He wears it all the time.

He sighs squeezing your hands gently “I will never even think about cheating on you doll” he finally says “I know baby I know I’m stupid for even asking you that” you scoot closer to him and kiss his cheek as he smiles faintly. “I love you Shuji and I trust you with all I’ve got” you smile and he mirrors you “I love you too” he says and he leaves a quick peck on your lips “but imma need to have to delete your tiktok account now” he’s grinning, that’s your shuji.

#vivi writes🍓#hanma shuji #tokyo revengers #tokyo manji gang #tokyo revengers hanma #hanma x reader #tokrev hanma #hanma x female reader #hanma x y/n #hanma x you #hanma shuji fluff #hanma shuji angst #tokyo revengers one shot #hanma shuji x reader

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sualne · 7 months

Note

I absolutely LOVE your croco dad, Au, but it also makes me sad thinking about the other strawhats! Nami is being forced to work with arlon, and Usopp is still being home island, zoeo probably loses his way and accidently get into the base so iam not as worried but still worried about him to

the east blue crew will slowly make their way into the au, this is the bad timeline but all things considered theyre doing pretty well actually, dont worry too much about them! since theyre not the main focus they wont suffer (on screen) too much.

#crocau ask #i keep talking about tragedy and angst but keep in mind also i love them all very dearly and i refuse for anyone to suffer pointlessly for #the sake of suffering only. the east blue crew wont be alone. they will find each others or be found by others and eventually meet luffy.#the rest of the crew tho wont really show up. because i need this to be a manageable amount of characters. and yeah. i will also play #favorite but you wont know what that means till we get there. this is still a story about love. freedom and (found) family.#i also really want for luffy to meet each of them in the canon order of which he met them. because that feels right.#(doesnt include robin and vivi obviously which he meets before even meeting zoro for obvious plot reasons)

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okayeojin · 2 years

Text

loona reaction to accidentally revealing your relationship

☁️ :: mainly angst

♡ :: heejin 희진

as heejin was excitedly talking to her fans on vlive, giggling amused at the way the comments would go crazy as soon as she did something as innocent as simply brushing her hand through her hair or biting her bottom lip as her eyes skimmed through the comments. a little "oh!" left her lips as a viewer pointed out a few new additions to her drawings neatly taped on the wall behind her. "yes! i added some recent pictures i drew lately" she exclaimed as she rolled with her chair closer to the wall and carefully removed said drawings from it, with the intention of showing them to her fans. "i've been drawing traditionally a lot, actually" she explained, resting the drawings on her desk. "but i have some... fairly recent digital pieces as well" she continued as she pulled out and unlocked her tablet. smiling at the screen she finally chose what to show her viewers, pulling out this pretty landscape view she had worked on for the last few days. flattered by the positive response, she felt like showing more, sliding her fingers on the screen in the wrong direction, accidentally revealing what many people immediately recognized was a portrait of you. you were wearing the same outfit as the most recent music show you and your group attended to... and overall some kpop fans would have recognized you regardless. her eyes shot wide open and her expression didn't really leave any doubts to the viewers. something was definitely up between the two of you. "that's...! they're just... i just admire them a lot and..." she would ramble before changing the subject and attempting to keep her live going, but the comments were not letting her off the hook so easily... so much that she eventually had to end it, and with a shaky sigh and teary eyes proceeded to text you.

♡ :: hyunjin 현진

hyunjin acted without thinking. and the shocked expressions on her members' faces or the stern look from her manager, and complete silence that fell over the whole room should have made her understand that she had messed up big time. it was a live interview, show, kind of thing, and the hosts were this group of over middle aged men, thinking that making fun of young girls is somewhat entertaining, and crossing many many lines while doing so. during a specific moment in the show, the girls were all called together to take a picture with the mcs, who didn't even think before grabbing some of them by their shoulders and pulling them closer. hyunjin was one of them. and she quickly pulled away, faking a smile. "oh what happened?" the host tried to joke "you have a boyfriend or something? is he jealous?" he continued while laughing in her face, at which she replied "yes, my s/o wouldn't be happy seeing you touching me like that", storming out of the set. unprofessional, she knew that. but she couldn't bear it any longer. you, who were watching the live from your phone, had your mouth wide open, not a single idea in mind about what you were supposed to do at that moment, until you got hyunjin's call. "i have to figure things out with the company about what just happened. i’m really sorry, love".

♡ :: haseul 하슬

she was peacefully on vlive, probably in her own dorm room with no supervision from any of the staff or even her manager -who was however watching her live just to keep the situation under control. she was answering questions from the fans, giggling and scolding her own members for leaving comments lovingly making fun of her, she even sang some songs that were requested by the viewers. she was having so much fun that she almost forgot she had invited you over at a certain hour, when she was almost sure she would have finished by then, but it wasn’t the case. she soon heard your voice on the other side of the door; you were surely being entertained by some of her members while she was still finishing up her live. she got so excited at the thought of going out with you, that she made a rookie mistake: she said her goodbyes, she thanked her fans for keeping her company, and she swore she had ended the live, but she stood up so quickly that her hand slipped and never properly clicked. she ran to greet you and loudly exclaimed “i missed you so much!! oh my god come here” and kissed you just loud enough that it was clearly heard by the viewers. then her phone would start going off with calls from her manager and she would get so confused but soon understand the situation and you could see her face going pale in an instant.

♡ : yeojin 여진

you had spent the whole afternoon together, drinking milkshakes while sitting in front of the ocean on the beach. you had cuddled the whole time and taken so many pictures as well, especially yeojin. it was a time so dear to her because for the very first time in months her schedule was free, no promotions, no fan meetings, no interview, no radio, no variety shows... she almost couldn't believe it was real, spending time with her s/o like this, without anyone's from her company supervision, without having to leave at a certain hour. "you look so good like that!" she exclaimed, snapping a picture of you, "oh my god the sunset! pose like this for me!" she continued, moving around to get your best angles. you chuckled, covering your face from some of the sand she was accidentally kicking around while moving, "let's get a picture together instead, you have enough of my face in that phone, i think" you suggested, extending your arm to invite her next to you. snapping a quick picture together, you admired how cute you both looked sharing the smallest peck on your lips, making yeojin shriek in embarrassment. "don't you think it looks good?" you asked, "i might post this!" you joked, to which yeojin surprisingly replied "you can". you raised both eyebrows at her "huh? this could be very risky for you, i don't want to ruin your career...", getting interrupted by your girlfriend "you have your profile on private anyways, right? here, i'll do it" grabbing her phone which was connected to your instagram account too, posting it and closing the app. "ther-" not even one second later, she got a call. from her manager, which instantly made her heart drop. you watched her expression with a puzzled look on your face, wondering what was happening. "i i accidentally uploaded the picture on the loona account and it got immediately taken down by the company, but 300 people had liked it already and there's probably screenshots around" she cried into your arms as you did your best to comfort her.

♡ : vivi 비비

for the first time after a while she had decided to do a live all by herself in her own vocal room, showing her fans new paintings she had worked on or planned on doing, and she would cutely get closer to the screen to see the comments, before pulling back and giggling, and then answering. "when was the last time i went out with the members?" she read the comment out loud before puffing her cheeks and glancing upwards towards the ceiling for a second, clearly trying to recall the event, then letting out a "oh!" of realization and pulling out her phone, fiddling with it a bit before showing it to the camera she was streaming on. "this is a picture i took last week when i went out to drink with loona 1/3... subunit hangout" she giggled while zooming on the faces of each member present in the picture. she stopped chuckling all of the sudden, her heart stopped and her face visibly turned pale as a notification popped up on the screen, big enough for every viewer to see. from: the love of my life; <are you still up for that one date you promised me~? 💕>. the chat was going so crazy that she thought the whole app would freeze and stop working, or something... she was furiously giggling and looking around for any help, trying her best to cover it up, "that's my,, my friend yeah they.. they are joking, i mean-" but the sheer despair on her face was way too much to hide, and the tears welled up in the corners of her eyes weren't helping her case at all. then suddenly the door to her room opened just enough for only one hand to be seen, inviting her to step outside and she closed her live in a hurry, apologizing profusely in a shaky voice.

♡ : kim lip 킴립

it was a dumb mistake. very dumb. and she could never forgive herself for potentially ruining your life, other than completely destroying your privacy. she was doing a live for her birthday, and it was now well past midnight, reason why she couldn't stop yawning to save her life, apologizing every time she had to cover her mouth to release another one. but she had promised to stay up at least until two in the morning, and considering she had no schedules whatsoever the next day, she wanted to keep her promise with her fans. and despite some of them complaining that she should rest and go to bed, she wasn't letting go of her little personal challenge to stay up a bit more. "don't worry guys, we can uhm... listen to some music, i will stay up" as if she hadn't been playing songs for the last three hours already. then a comment caught her eyes, "what time is it?". it was written in english, meaning it was from an international fan with a different timezone, most likely. after reading it out loud, she pulled out her phone and pointed it directly at the camera, turning it on and showing the bright screen to her viewers. maybe it was her lack of sleep, or the fact that her hand was covering part of the screen, but her reflexes weren't fast enough and her brain didn't process fast enough that her lockscreen was her cupping your face and kissing you right on the lips, your cheeks puffed and all. it was a cute picture indeed. but not in that particular moment, when she suddenly realized and pulled her phone away from the camera and clutched it with both hands, resting it against her chest. her lack of explanation was loud enough for anyone to put two and two together (although the picture of her kissing someone on the lips was a very clear indicator that she had a romantic relation with someone), and at that point she cleared her throat and said awkwardly "it's 2am, time to go bye!", and turned the live off to plop down on her chair and cover her face with her hands, defeated.

♡ : jinsoul 진슬

jinsoul loves you. she loves you so much she is literally unable to take her eyes off you. and despite how romantic it sounds -and it is- it can indeed end up causing you two some troubles, especially considering the type of industry you both worked in, how demanding and scary it can be. that being said, it happened from time to time that your groups had a comeback at the same time, often meeting on the stage of music shows. you'd look so hot with your makeup done, you hair all pretty and your stage outfit so sparkly, you'd steal all the spotlight. at least to her. that one episode in particular was no different. while the winner groups' member were doing their speech, her eyes were constantly pointing in your direction, and she wasn't even being subtle about it, since her members would occasionally pinch her side to get her attention back. once the encore began, and everyone began moving around and greeting one another, she took it as a chance to swiftly make her way to you, ignoring gowon's hand trying to keep her in place. you ever so slightly bowed to each other as to not raise any suspicion by being to friendly or whatever, and she gently grazed her hand against yours, causing your blushing to increase. it's not until you both got off the stage that she decided to be bold about it and steal a little peck from your lips, which caused you to gasp loudly and look around frantically, as other idols who were able to see what went on looked at you weirdly. jinsoul simply chuckled, unknowing of the fact that you were indeed caught on camera, at the very corner of it, but it surely didn't go unnoticed by some viewers...

♡ : choerry 최리

as affectionate as she is, she would still try her best to behave around you, especially in public. she would literally teleport to another dimension away from you if she saw someone holding a phone, afraid of the possibility of being caught even just staring at each other. and it would be extremely painful to her, especially considering how one of her favorite activities of all time was clinging to your arm for as long as possible until you physically have to remove her. this time she really couldn't refrain herself, and the consequences of such a tender moment would probably haunt her for the rest of her career. you would usually spend your time with her and the rest of loona by passing off as part of the staff, so it wasn't weird for you to be "caught" with the girls during some of their schedules. this one time, however, choerry was incredibly worn out after a particular mv filming day that took so many takes to finish, that as soon as she saw you she wrapped her arms so tightly around your neck and her lips immediately found their way on yours. unconsciously behind caught on accident by one of the makeup artists filming an instagram story that got posted without much of second look, or review of it. as soon as the video began circulating, she would become insufferable, blaming herself to no end, even advising you to break up with her because she "ruined your life". tell her it's not her fault ):

♡ : yves 이브

she's so romantic. she has heart eyes whenever she looks at you and she can't even control it. bless her. however, because of this exact reason, the two of you could rarely ever hang out in public, since it'd be hard to believe you were just a friend of hers or a staff member. even when she sang love songs on stage, her voice was so filled with such emotions that not even her fans would believe that "she was thinking of orbits while singing". she is so full of love. it was after one of their stages that she was complimented about her voice, and the host commented how "it seems like you really resonate with the lyircs, huh? are they perhaps dedicated to a special someone or...?", he would inquire. yves would get so defensive it would be obvious she was trying to hide something. "oh no! haha, i mean... you know, friends and family, huh- my members yeah, and overall everyone who has supported us along the way" and she would start rambling to the point where one of her members had to stop her by physically placing a hand behind her back to prompt her to slow down. there would be a lot of speculations about who could be this "special someone" of hers, and it would get so stressful to the point where she felt like she couldn't do a vlive in fear of slipping up on her own words. until it happened. she got a call during a live while she carelessly had her phone on the desk with the screen facing up, and the word "love♥️" shined brightly on the screen. as she grabbed the device so fast it almost slipped out of her hands, her face turned as pale as a ghost and she began clumsly trying to explain herself, "that's haha it was my huuuh cousin-" but none of the viewers were buying it, so she had to quickly turn the live off and called you in between tears, apologizing before you could even ask what was wrong.

♡ : chuu 츄

she would constantly keep you on edge, jumping up on you from behind, hugging you unexpectedly, holding your hand while the possibility of being caught was still there, and if she happened to be needy enough she would even be so bold to kiss you somewhat publicly. your stress levels would be through the roof, to be honest. there wouldn’t be many rumors going around at first, nearly everyone was aware of her bubbly personality so her linking arms with someone other that her members wouldn’t be too big of a shocker. at least not so much that her agency had to make a statement or what not. she even went as far as to introduce you to her fans on live, giggling and telling her viewers about the way you’ve been friends since high school and still keep in touch. which wasn’t exactly wrong, except for the fact that you’ve been more than friends for a few years... it was during one of those lives that it all went downhill. you had been sitting behind the camera, looking at her and silently giggling from time to time at her antics, careful of not being caught by the viewers. but i guess you were looking a bit too adorable to her, reason why she just couldn’t wait and told her fans she had to go to the bathroom real quick, and therefore she had to momentarily mute her mic. except that she didn’t. and the sound of smooching was loud and clear to everyone. of course it didn’t take her too long to figure out what had happened as soon as she sat back down on her chair. immediate response was to shut down the live, get up suddenly to go talk to her manager, while ignoring your yells asking her what was wrong.

♡ : gowon 고원

she was at a radio interview when it all took place, her and the rest of the girls were each asked to describe their ideal date, and haseul suggested that gowon replied first. giggling at the request, she excitedly adjusted herself on her seat before leaning slightly closer towards the mic and began replying, explaining how bad she wanted to have a picnic in a field of pretty flowers, but the weather hadn't been on its best behavior to do so. the whole time her mind was wandering to you, thinking about how much you had begged her to go on a picnic, as you liked being outdoors so much. almost forgetting where she was, until the radio host asked her "ah so you like flowers?" to which she mindlessly replied with "ah my partner really loves th-" and as her breath suddenly cut short and her heart began pounding so hard, she started frantically looking at her members for help and comfort. they were trying to give her reassuring glances, sharing looks with the radio host too, who immediately caught on to what was happening and broadcasted the next song. gowon soon enough took off her headphones and stood up to call you, not even caring that the rest of loona was shouting her name. she profusely apologized to you on the phone, loudly crying into the speaker.

♡ : olivia hye 올리비아혜

she could not, for the life of her, explain how it all happened. she was careful, she has always been careful. protecting you was what had always mattered to her the most, as long as your identity and your own career was preserved, it wasn’t important what happened to her. not a single glance in your direction during music shows or music awards, not even a single reaction to your performance. it was fine, she would shower you with compliments and feedback about your stage once the night was over, maybe backstage, maybe on your way back, through messages, or phone calls. sure it was hard, you craved affection and she also felt guilty for having to ignore you more often that not, but what could she do... her job required this sort of behavior. it all went downhill during a vlive with the rest of the yyxy members, during which one of the fans asked if they had any other kpop idol they looked up to and why. she wasn't sure if she should've said it, but regarless, she said your name. and lowkey went on a tangent about how good you were at your job and how she liked the way you danced and performed. her own members started playfully teasing her, "ooh it looks like hyeju has a crush" and gently elbowing her. hyeju just chuckled in embarassment and before she coule deny it a flood of comments appeared before her eyes. <what? she's dating y/n?>, <omg haha this is crazy>, <i dont think they'd make a good couple actually>, <no way y/n managed to pull hyeju hahaha>. rather than being anxious about her relationship being exposed, she was getting more and more pissed by the second at the comments saying she was too good for you, and the ones badmouthing you. she stood up slamming her hands on the table, startling her members. "the one that's too good is y/n, you have no right to speak about them, so get their name out of your mouth. it's none of your business if we're dating or not!" and stormed out of the room, not wasting a second to call you, more angry than upset.

masterlist˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

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sinswithpleasure · 1 year

Text

忘情水（ft. 本月少女：黄珈熙）

—-------

This fic would have fit better in Mandarin, but I lack the skill to write it well enough to even try.

This is for me.

—-------

Wong Kahei opens the back door to Within Reach, the bar she calls her workplace. The bar is almost full: 8:30pm—prime drinking hours—and the live band on stage right now plays something slow, romantic. Vivi has to bite back a sigh—working on Valentine's Day sucks when she'd rather be home, sleeping already. Her bills don't pay themselves, and here she is, out of necessity rather than choice.

It is with a heavy heart that Kahei heads to her dressing room to the back. She sighs when she reaches her room, the name of the bar engraved across the wood, her name beneath it.

She's no longer within reach.

Kahei sets her guitar down, and she walks back out front. She smiles when she sees Choerry out at the bar, mixing up another one of her wonderful cocktails.

"Yerimmie."

"Vivi-unnie!"

"One scotch, on the rocks please."

"Okay!"

Ka-hei is grateful for Choerry's bright smile. The world needs someone like her, someone exuberantly positive, someone as pure and bright as her who loves without question. Without people like Choerry, the world would be worse off.

When Choerry hands her the glass of scotch, she downs it in one go.

"You seem down, unnie."

"My depressed mug gave it away, didn't it?"

"Well… that, and you're usually never this gloomy."

Kahei thins her lips and nods.

"Another one, Yerimmie."

"Not too much, unnie. You still have your slot up at nine."

"I know."

Kahei sighs when Choerry pours her the second glass.

"Is this about Haseul-unnie?"

"Yeah."

Choerry gives Kahei a sad smile. She knows how much her Vivi-unnie hurts inside. Valentine's Day used to hold so much hope for her at one point, but…

"I'll enjoy your performance later, unnie. Gotta get back to work."

"Go on." Kahei smiles at her favorite bartender. The younger girl has been much of a sister to her for years, and Kahei loves her as one would an actual sibling.

Now, left alone with her thoughts, Kahei ruminates.

I don't like you that way, Kahei. I'm sorry.

Kahei swallows thickly at the words in her mind, the wound still just as fresh as it was a year ago. Wistfully, Kahei pulls out her phone and stares at the wallpaper on her lockscreen. Most of their little group's gone and scattered now—Heejin's a famous artist now, Jinsoul's a producer for one of the biggest labels in Korea, Choerry's bartending right in front of her, and Haseul…

Kahei's heart breaks again when she sees that pretty smile of hers on her screen. She knows she should change it, remove every trace, but she just can't bring herself to.

Slowly, Kahei nurses her drink. She's got fifteen more minutes to spare before her set comes on, and she takes in the atmosphere of the bar. She runs her gaze across the establishment—there are many couples around, as expected on Valentine's, but she notes that there are just as many patrons, if not more, who're probably just like her—lonely, heartbroken, alone.

Sometimes, Cupid just isn't kind.

Kahei downs her drink and heads for her dressing room. Another ten minutes to her slot, and she has to get ready.

—

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the next act, Vivi Wong!"

A gentle wave of applause rolls across the bar as Vivi steps up to the stage with her guitar. She thanks the previous act for introducing her, and they return the pleasantries. Once her guitar's plugged in, she takes her seat in front of the mic and smiles as the cheers quieten.

"Good evening, everyone. My name's Vivi, and I'll be your entertainment for the next hour. Please take care of me."

With a nod to her colleagues behind her, she begins her set.

—

Kahei begins with a few upbeat, romantic songs first. After all, most people do celebrate Valentine's Day instead of hating it like she does. She slows down the set later into the night when she approaches the last song of the set, when most of the couples have cleared out.

"To all of the patrons who're feeling lonely, heartbroken, or sad tonight, I've not forgotten you all, because I've also been one of you too."

She's still one of them.

"This song is in my native language of Chinese, titled '忘情水', which roughly translates to 'forget love water'. I hope all of you enjoy it."

She smiles when one of the AV staff flashes up the lyrics of her next song. Kahei's painstakingly done up a slideshow with translations just for tonight—no point singing the song if no one's going to understand it.

Kahei nods to the keyboardist, and she begins the opening notes to the song. She takes a breath as she takes a trip back through the swirl of memories that envelop her being, to the one name that she can never forget—Cho Haseul.

—

Kahei takes herself back to the first time she meets Haseul. She was new to Korea, having moved here when her dad took up a job here. She'd been so nervous on her first day at school, but when the teacher directs her to the only empty seat near the back of the class, she raises her head to meet a bright eye smile and a dainty hand reaching out to her.

"Hi! My name's Cho Haseul, what's yours?"

—

She starts.

行遍千山和萬水

一路走來不能回

曾經年少愛追夢

一心只想往前飛

(I chased dreams when I was young

My heart only thought to fly

I've walked through mountains and streams,

my path cannot be reversed)

—

Haseul's pretty. So, so pretty.

At first, Haseul's just a friend. A pretty friend that Kahei spends all her time around, because they're seatmates who live in the same neighborhood. Every minute of every day is spent close to Haseul, and Kahei learns about a whole new culture, country, and language with Haseul by her side.

A year and a half ago, Kahei met Haseul. A year and a half later, both girls have graduated, and are getting ready to move on into the next stage of their lives—college. However, they have a long break ahead of them before college starts, and that's more than enough time for Kahei.

A year and a half ago, Haseul was a pretty stranger. A year and a half later, Haseul is the pretty girl Kahei's fallen for.

"Kahei, what do you think about dyeing your hair with me?

"Come on, wasn't it what we discussed? Our shared sapphic dream to dye our hair stupid colours to get cute girls to look at us in college?"

Kahei already knows who's the girl she wants to look at her.

—

驀然回首情已遠

身不由己在天邊

才明白愛恨情仇

最傷最痛是後悔

(Suddenly, when I look back, [I realize that] the romance is already far away—I can't see you over the horizon,

From there I understand—in love, hate, feelings, or resentment—regret causes the worst pain.)

—

Kahei doesn't know when she started loving Haseul. If you asked her, she'd tell you she doesn't know. One day, she just woke up and realized she did, and it terrified her.

However, there was a sense of comfort in knowing that it was Cho Haseul—pretty, bubbly, cute, fluffy Cho Haseul. The girl who's been Kahei's rock for so long. They were a package deal, a married-pair thing. Surely Haseul liked her just as much, right?

Haseul, who was very physically affectionate with Kahei. Haseul, who was always the first and last person Kahei thought of when she woke and slept. Haseul, the girl that Kahei still spent day and night with. Haseul. Just… beautiful Cho Haseul.

And Kahei was going to make Haseul her girl on Valentine's Day.

—

如果你不曾心碎

你不會懂得我傷悲

當我眼中有淚別問我是為誰

就讓我忘了這一切

(If you've been heartbroken,

you'll never understand my pain.

When I have tears in my eyes, don't ask who it is for,

just let me forget all this!)

—

"Haseul, can we talk?"

"Mm, what's up?"

Now's the moment! Kahei's so excited, because Haseul's finally going to be hers!

"I…"

Haseul waits patiently for Kahei. She always has.

"Cho Haseul, I like you! I've liked you for a very long time! Please go out with me!"

Kahei bares her heart to Haseul, her hopes and dreams soaring in the sky. She knows Haseul loves her back too, there's no way she doesn't—

"I'm sorry, Kahei."

Wha—?

"I don't like you that way, Kahei. I'm so sorry."

—

啊，給我一杯忘情水

換我一夜不流淚

所有真心真意任它雨打風吹

付出的愛收不回

(Oh~ Give me a drink to forget,

Let my nights be tearless night,

All of my feelings lasted through the weather,

I can't take back the love I gave.)

—

Kahei's a pathetic mess.

The heartbreak that follows drives her to do things she'd never do if she was thinking straight. She begs, cries, screams for Haseul to love her back. She even visits Haseul's house multiple times and tries to talk, but Haseul drives her away more and more in fear each time. Kahei gets increasingly more desperate—sending more texts, attempting more visits, and trying to intercept Haseul. It ends with Haseul blocking Kahei on every social media platform she can find, and her presence not welcome on the Cho family's residence any more.

(Future… well, present Kahei regrets the decisions she made then. She became a creep, and she still can't exactly forgive herself for that.)

Kahei is devastated when a letter without a return address comes one day. There's no need for one anyway.

'Kahei.

I thank you for your feelings for me, but there is no way I can reciprocate them. Not even if you beg and cry and scream. We need time away from each other.

By the time you're reading this text, I should be on my plane to the United States for college. I'm sure you knew that.

I hope to see you in the future, when you're feeling better.

Goodbye.

Haseul.'

—

給我一杯忘情水

換我一生不傷悲

就算我會喝醉就算我會心碎

不會看見我流淚

(Oh~ Give me a drink to forget,

Let me live without the pain,

Even if I get drunk, even if my heart breaks,

At least you won't see me cry.)

—

As Kahei carries on singing the song, she's deep in her head.

Kahei feels stupid. Very stupid. A year has passed, and she's still hung up on… well… Haseul, sort of. She's not sure if it's her, or it's the regret that she became a creep. She's still not sure.

Many nights Kahei has spent thinking about herself. She thinks about how she could've done better, should've done better. She should've stopped at Haseul's 'No' and let sleeping dogs lie, instead of trying to fix something that wasn't broken. Instead, she now leaves behind a broken friendship, and loose ends that may never end up tied. Kahei wishes for closure, for a chance to apologize, but there's no more chance for that now, is there?

Maybe she doesn't even deserve that much…

As the closing notes to the song float away, Kahei notes how wet her cheeks are. She takes a moment before she realizes she's crying, and she hurriedly attempts to wipe her face with her sleeves. As the bar patrons slowly clap, Kahei can feel how awkward she's made things.

"Thank you all, and have a great night."

Kahei hurriedly exits the stage, and she leaves for her dressing room to compose herself.

—---------

When Kahei returns home that night, she still beats herself up for being hung up over Haseul, who's long gone from her life.

Kahei wishes to forget.

(Kahei wishes for closure. Kahei wishes to repent. Even if she doesn't deserve it.)

#kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop angst #loona fanfiction #loona fanfic #loona vivi fanfic #ViVi #loona vivi #cho haseul #loona haseul #Jo Haseul #loona jo haseul #loona haseul fanfic

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queenimmadolla · 1 year

Note

Baby Blurbs 💛

can i request eddie & tequila with a genre of your choice ✨

𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐩, 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐬𝐚𝐝 (are you guys okay???)

Eddie stared out of the window of the van, cigarette held to his lips as he took a deep drag, ash, crumbling down onto his pants.

He was parked outside of The Hideout. Had been for a couple of minutes now. There were only four other cars in the makeshift dirt parking lot, one of which was yours.

You were the reason why he was here in the first place. Had been running away from him the whole day, not that he’d been chasing you. Eddie had been avoiding you, too.

Until you’d walked into the diner, earlier tonight, and seen him with his friends and another band. You’d immediately walked out and while he hadn’t gone after you then, Eddie knew a talk was needed.

You hadn’t been at your house, hadn’t been with your friends and he just so happened to pass by the bar when he spotted your car.

Exhaling the nicotine cloud out the window, Eddie rolled it up and stepped out of the van, dropping the cigarette to the ground and putting it out with his shoe as he stared at the neon sign flashing in front of the entrance.

Eddie had a bad feeling about this but he couldn’t say he’d had a whole lot of good ones in the last couple of months.

He trudged forward, pushing the heavy wooden door open. There were hardly any occupants, a band of teenagers he didn’t recognize playing on the stage, reminding him of Corroded Coffin’s earlier days.

There was a couple in a corner booth, a few stragglers in the tables near the stage and Eddie found you at the bar, perched on a stool with your chin in your hands and a shot glass in front of you.

He swallowed, tucking his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket for the short walk towards you.

You didn’t stir when he sat next to you, didn’t even glance up at him. Your big eyes housed a sadness that made something in him ache, the corners of your lips just slightly turned down.

He shifted in his seat, prying his hands out of his pockets to rap his knuckles against the bar top, rifling through his brain to come up with something, anything to say.

“What’s your poison?” he finally asked, jutting his chin towards the full shot glass in front of you.

You didn’t respond, still staring at all the bottles lining the back of the wall, but not really taking them in. Acted like he wasn’t there.

So, Eddie reached forward and took your glass, bringing it up to his nose for a whiff, “Tequila. Nice choice, your stomach is─”

“I think we should take a break.”

You whispered it so quietly that Eddie almost hadn’t heard you. Almost.

He was shocked, mouth parted slightly as he felt his blood run cold.

You finally looked at him, head barely turning and the pain in your gaze was enough to hurt Eddie, have tears lining his own eyes.

Your eyes were red, having already cried your heart out while you drove mindlessly around town after you’d walked into your favorite diner to see Eddie with his other life, his bandmates you were familiar with, other people you weren’t and his arm around a girl who wasn’t you.

Bleach blonde with deep blue eye who fit his aesthetic, looked like she belonged with him.

The realization hit you hard, not because you hadn't seen it coming, but because it had always been just a couple of paces behind you since Eddie had committed to music.

He’d started touring around the area, then out of state. It wasn’t so bad at first, he’d call and he was still your mushy boyfriend, then suddenly the calls became less frequent, until you barely got them.

And the drugs. Eddie started using more, relying on them. When he did come home, he was usually passed out, if he wasn’t hanging out with anyone who wasn’t you.

You fought a lot. Not just arguments, it was yelling and screaming and tears and doors slamming with feelings hurt.

Having him home didn’t feel like you thought it would. You were lonelier and sadder than ever and he was just on the other side of the bed.

What you’d seen today was just the topping on the shitty cake.

“I’m so sad, Eddie.” You stated, a hot tear trailing down your cheek and slipping under your chin. You didn’t bother wiping it, not when you knew more would come, “I’m so sad because I miss you so much and you’re right here.”

“We can work on it, baby. I love─” He tried, breath hitching but you squeezed your eyes shut, pressing your lips together to try to keep from full on bawling again because you needed to say this.

“I know, Eddie. I know you love me. And I love you. I love you so much. I want to marry you, I want to have your babies, I want to be with you all the time. But we’re not good for each other right now, Eds. I love you so much it hurts. Love isn’t supposed to hurt, not like this.”

Eddie was upset, too. While his tears had yet to leak, they flooded his eyes and you were surprised his waterline could even keep them at bay. He looked like he was in agony.

“No, baby, we can fix this. We can—therapy. We can do therapy. I’m sorry I made you feel like this but we can─”

“It’s not just you, Eddie. I know I don’t make you happy.” It killed you to say it outloud, your worst fear and something he’d reassured you would never be possible. That had been when the two of you were younger and naive enough to think love could save anything, that love was enough. If that was true, the world would be a much better place.

But it wasn’t. Because love isn't enough. Love couldn’t save your relationship with Eddie.

Maybe you could.

“That’s not true─”

“Eddie,” Your eyes pleaded with him not to lie to you to save your already wounded heart and he squeezed his eyes shut, fingers rubbing at them and smearing the wetness around his eyelashes.

It’d be easy to paint Eddie as the villain, the downfall, but it’d be a lie. You didn’t make him happy anymore, just like he didn’t make you happy. You couldn’t imagine how annoying all your pestering was, the equivalent of a boyfriend blowing up the phone of some club you were at while out on the town with your girls, having the time of your life.

Eddie couldn’t enjoy the fast life and wild nights with his friends because you were constantly worried, constantly leaving messages for him at hotels and when you were with him, you were so in your head that you also weren’t present with him. Not fully enjoying any of his concerts or the after parties he’d take you to, and you picked fights just as much as he did.

Eddie was entitled, and had earned the right to enjoy the scene he’d clawed his way into. You were upset because you didn’t fit into it, just like he didn’t seem to fit into your life anymore. You knew nothing was going on with that girl you’d seen him have his arm around at the diner, she was probably a part of the other band he was with. Should he have put himself in that situation? Probably not. Should you have let the man who bought you that shot talk you up? Probably not. Probably shouldn’t have flirted back with him because you were vulnerable, regardless of how coy and innocent it had seemingly been. Eddie was vulnerable, too.

You were both just unfortunate victims to circumstance.

“I know I don’t make you happy anymore. It’s okay. I call you all the time when you’re away, even when I know you’re not up to anything because I’m lonely. We don’t even really talk when I do. And I’m lonely when you’re with me, too. Now, we don’t talk when you’re away or here. And sometimes that makes me feel happy, relieved. I know you feel the same way, Eddie. It’s okay.”

Eddie put his face in his hands, silently weeping against his palms because you were right. All the two of you did lately was fight, be it passive aggressively or not, and avoid each other. Couldn’t fight if you weren’t talking, it was a relief to know neither of you was actively hurting each other with harsh words and accusations. Eddie never wanted to hurt you. He loved you.

“So, let’s just take a break, okay? See what it is we really want. I know this sucks, but I'm not mad at you. I'm not mad at this. It’s life and it sucks, but there’s not much else we can do unless we want to keep forcing this until we hate each other. I don’t want to hate you. I don’t want to hate us.”

“I love you,” he croaked out, pulling his face from his hands to reveal red eyes with tear trails staining his cheeks, “I love you so much, I want to marry you, too, and I want you to have my babies and I want to wake up to you every day of my life.”

Your smile was a watery one and you knew if you stayed any longer, you’d stay. And you and Eddie would have a ticking clock over your heads, a deadline, a guaranteed end to your relationship in a big, fiery ball of resentment and hatred.

So, you wiped your face, gathered your bag and stood up. You took Eddie’s face in your hands and pressed the most tender kiss to his wet cheek, allowing your lips to linger as your heart begged you to stay, to feed into each other’s misery, let it all fall apart and watch if it meant you still got to be Eddie’s girl.

Another tear fell from your eye, though it landed on Eddie’s skin instead of yours.

“I love you, Eddie. I hope someday it’ll be enough. It’s just not right now, baby.”

You pressed your forehead against his, the two of you crying together for a moment before you pulled away, “Take care of yourself, Eds, okay?”

Your thumb wiped some of his tears away and you gave him one last smile before you went for the door.

Eddie watched you until you were gone, and he stared at the door long after.

It was only when the bartender made a last call announcement that he stirred, downing your shot before he crept out of the bar, fully intent on grieving for the rest of the night, the rest of his life.

#vivi’s baby blurbs #this one was definitely a toddler again but it felt really good #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader angst #eddie munson angst #boyfriend!eddie munson #ex boyfriend!eddie munson #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n

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samkerrworshipper · 5 months

Text

pain, sweet, pain | leah williamson x arsenal team

leah’s return from her acl injury is nothing like what she wanted nor expected, but her team are there to help her up when she’s down.

content: hurt/comfort, angst, sadness, pain.

Leah’s never been a good loser.

Whether it was U8s playing with the boys, or playing for Arsenal, or playing for England.

She knows this, it’s both her biggest strength and weakness. She likes to think that it makes her a better player and person, because she experiences the highs and lows like nobody else, but realistically she knows that's just the part of her that hates that she feels so inherently deeply worthless when she team loses and it feels she's somewhat at fault.

Captain Leah would never in her wildest dreams blame a loss on anyone, because she plays an eleven person game, a team game, one person cannot take the sole blame for a whole 90 minutes plus stoppage time.

Leah, 26 year old Leah, who's just coming back from an ACL injury and feels like her world is ending, can’t do anything but blame herself.

Never in her life has Leah felt so worthless, so scared for the future.

She’s worked so hard, worked every single day of recovery, for her knee and for her mind.

She’d thought she was ready, and physically she is, but mentally absolutely nothing prepares you for the moment when you step back on the field for your first game as a starter and you play like absolute shite.

Leah’s worked for over a year, tirelessly, to get to this point, she’d dreamt about it her whole recovery, dreaming of a pinnacle, a perfect moment at the end of the treacherous path, it had seemed perfect.

Realistically, Leah knows that it was never going to look exactly like that, but she’d hoped for something more, happiness, joy, a good game, fulfilment above all else.

Yet, she’s left feeling the complete opposite.

Leah didn’t wait around on the pitch, she was inconsolable, and she knew it, she didn’t need fans seeing her vulnerable, she didn’t need Sarina who had travelled all this way to see Leah play look at Leah with that look of disappointment that you could always catch in the corner of her eye. Leah just couldn’t do it, she couldn’t ever bear to look at Kim, her captain who cared so deeply at her, she couldn’t face that, couldn’t face a woman who was the person who was supposed to keep her accountable but also pick her up when she’s down.

So Leah slips away, slips into the tunnel before she gets stuck in some stupid surface conversation with Alex or Jill, even though she’s desperate to catch up with them, she just can’t do it right now. Drawing with Man City feels like a loss, Arsenal are second on the ladder, the only team they should be drawing or losing to is Chelsea, or at least that’s what Leah’s brain is telling her.

She slips into the bathroom, going unnoticed by anybody in the tunnel and keeping her eyes on her cleats as she makes her way into the away team lockers.

Leah doesn’t sit down, she moves straight to the bathroom, stepping into the first stall and locking the door behind her before she slides down onto the floor, bringing her knees to her chest and her head down onto her kneecaps.

Leah can’t breathe, Leah can’t think, all Leah can do is sit on the floor, contemplating whether it was all really worth it, whether the fucking months of blood, sweat and tears amounted to this. She doesn’t think so, Leah’s telling herself that all of that time, all the wishful thinking, all of the bullshit that she put up with is pointless.

She is Leah Williamson, England Captain, European champion.

Yet she had never felt more like an imposter in her own body.

Alex and Beth had told her about how playing her first full game would be the best moment of her life, especially after sitting out for a whole year.

It was a big step, sure, she’d been getting on the pitch, but being on for ten minutes of stoppage time hardly counted as playing, when Jonas had told her that he planned to have her start the Man City match Leah was excited, ecstatic even, in hindsight it was false confidence.

“Le, honey, are you in there?”

Leah realises that there are tears rolling down her cheeks, subconscious tears of anguish that she hurries to swipe away with the hem of her jersey.

Leah tries to silence herself, for long enough that Lia will leave her be, but she inevitably knows that even though Lia phrased it as a question, she knows Leah is hiding in the stall.

Leah and Lia are…. confusing.

Especially for Leah.

It’s this weird friends with benefits arrangement that somehow started after Caitlin and Lia broke up, it wasn’t very long after Leah and Jordan had broken up and one drunken celebratory night they fell into eachothers bedsheets.

It was blurred lines, sex and emotions that neither of them were ready to face.

Leah loved Lia, in so many ways, but she couldn’t do this, she couldn’t be vulnerable in front of a person that she had frequent casual sex with.

The sex was a confidence booster, for both of them, it made them both feel better, stronger, and Leah was fairly certain that Lia seeing her like this would wreck that.

“Le, baby, open up for me?”

Leah knows that she’s shaking, it’s the middle of fucking winter in London and she’s sitting in a tiled, cold bathroom in nothing more than her uniform. She doesn’t care though, she doesn’t care about anything, the only thing she is thinking about is how the fuck she is going to return to the locker rooms without looking like a complete fucking wreck.

“Leave me alone Lia, I’m fine.”

It’s a blatant lie, both women know it. The breakage and croakiness in Leah’s voice is enough of a sign.

“Don’t be like this Le, whatevers up, we can sort it out together, just open up the door.”

Leah can feel the sickness rising up in her throat, can feel the pain and anxiety coursing through her bloodstream.

“Lia I told you to fuck off, get the fuck out, I’m fine.”

Leah only just manages to get the expletives out before reaching for the bowl of the toilet, the sound of gagging filling the silent bathroom.

Leah hates the acidic flavour that rises up from her throat and directly out of her mouth into the bowl, the clear white being tarnished with the slightly orange tinged bile, Leah supposed it was probably from the gatorade that had been handed out at half time.

“Le, honey, you can open the door for me, I won’t judge you.”

Leah knows that Lia is just trying to be nice, that the Swiss woman really does have a heart of gold and would never judge Leah, not even at her darkest moment. But her mind is betraying her, everything she believes in seems false.

“Lia get the fuck out.”

It’s almost a scream, definitely a yell.

The overwhelming silence that comes after it is deafening.

Then Leah’s ears are blessed with the sound of cleats slowly trailing away from her, it’s the first time since the whistle blew at the start of the game that she feels just a smidge of peace.

Leah tries to pick herself up from the floor, at least the toilet bowl, but it’s a losing battle, the uneasiness in her stomach suddenly forcing more bile up her throat.

Leah hadn’t eaten this morning, so most of it was just bile and liquids that she’d had before the game and at halftime, it burned her throat, making the already abundant ache so much more prominent.

It’s just as Leah is finally pulling her head out, swiping her long blonde ponytail out of the way that she hears the sound of a loud and deft knock against the stall door.

“Leah Williamson, open up, right now.”

Leah’s body shivers more than it was before, whatever gods are up there, she just prays that Kim didn’t hear her vomiting, or crying, or anything.

“I’m fine Kim, leave me alone.”

Leah sounds even more of a mess than she did a few minutes ago when she was trying to convince Lia of the same thing.

“I didn’t ask if you were fine, I told you to open the door.”

Kim’s Scottish accent is so deep, so enunciated in the way it always seems to be when she’s using her stern captain's voice.

“Kim, please just leave.”

Leah is pleading, something that she hates to do, but if Kim asks her once more with that voice she knows she’s not going to resist. So she’s not necessarily pleading to be left alone, but she is pleading for Kim to not push, to not force her to do something she doesn’t want to.

“Leah Cathrine, open the door now, if I have to ask again I will exercise other options to get to you.”

Leah hates how responsive she is to Kim’s voice, she doesn’t manage to get herself up from the bowl, but she does manage to reach one of her long and gangly arms up to the lock and flip it to the side, leaving the door unlocked.

It takes Kim a total of a second to fling the door open.

She doesn’t waste time in the doorframe looking Leah up and down, she steps into the stall, locking the door behind her immediately and sitting down against the door, where Leah had previously been sat.

Kim doesn’t say anything, pretends that she doesn’t notice the tear tracks and snot all over Leah’s face. Instead she extends a windbreaker out towards Leah. Leah shakes her head and Kim just shakes her head, still holding her arm out.

“Leah take the fucking jacket, I won’t be the one to tell your mother that you got hypothermia because you refused to put a jacket on after a game.”

Then it hits Leah, there are people here, at the game, for her.

Her mother, grandmother, father, brother.

Keira even managed to make the trip down just for this game, and yet Leah is crumpled over in a loo, having a fucking breakdown.

Kim shoves the jacket at Leah, and Leah just gives in, pulling it around her shoulders but leaving her arms out so she doesn’t have to remove them from the toilet seat, out of fear that whatever is left contained in her stomach will arise.

Leah and Kim stay that way for a while, Kim just sitting and watching Leah carefully, whilst Leah clutches onto the toilet seat.

She vomits once again, but this time it’s just stomach acid, it burns but it makes her stomach rest a little bit easier, easy enough for Leah to push herself up from the toilet bowl and rest against the wall beside her, so she’s diagonal from Kim.

“Don’t you have teammates to pep up?”

Kim just furrowed her eyebrows at Leah.

“Yes, you.”

Leah grimaces at that answer, she isn’t normally the consoled, normally the consoler, taking up the same job that Kim is right now.

“There are people who have bigger problems right now than I do.”

Kim nods, which throws Leah off a little bit.

“Yes, there are, but I think you’ve been needing this a lot longer than you’d care to admit.”

Leah can’t look at Kim’s eyes, can’t bear the amount of concern that is being directed at her, so she keeps her eyes on her cleats.

They’re muddy, and sopping wet, and Leah’s feet are shivering like crazy, her toes numb from the cold.

“Needing what?”

The question hangs in the air, empty but yet also so full with wonder.

“Needing attention, comfort, vulnerability, needing to not be the invincible Leah Williamson for a minute.”

Leah can’t disagree with Kim, even if she wanted to, it’s just a lie that Kim would catch her out on, and she’s dealt with enough disappointment today.

“I should be happy, on cloud nine, it’s my first game back.”

Leah’s voice betrays her, betrays every single thing that she’s wishing she was feeling.

“There isn’t anything you should be, there are things you can want to feel, but there’s no exact way that you should be feeling right now. Remember Viv’s comeback? Recovery isn’t linear Leah, you know that.”

Kim’s scolding her a little bit, she knows how to get through to Leah, she needs tough love, none of the soft pity bullshit.

“I played like shit, you should be yelling at me not sitting on the bathroom floor with me looking at me like I’m a kicked puppy.”

Kim cocks her head, this is how she works her way in, she doesn’t even have to ask the questions, she just slowly works the answers out, she can play the long game.

“You missed a few passes and intercepts, it's not the end of the world, so did everyone. Do you think I should be yelling at them? We had a bad game Leah, it happens.”

Kim’s words are strong, passionate, but Leah knows there is a lingering question hanging beneath them.

“Leah, how are you doing?”

It’s such a bleak question, so simple but yet so impossible to answer.

“I’m fine, I’m good, I’m back on the pitch, I’m happy.”

It’s all lies, Leah is fairly certain that she hasn’t felt fine or good in a few weeks now, and definitely not happy. She doesn’t think she deserves to feel happy, especially not when she’s been playing how she has.

“You know that you don’t have to sugar coat things with me, you don’t need to lie to me for the sake of trying to get me to leave you alone, it won’t work.”

Kim is probably the most stubborn and selfless person Leah knows, it’s normally the thing she admires most about the Scot, but right now she couldn’t detest it more.

“Leah, you do know it’s okay to be upset, or annoyed, you're coming back from a major injury, I’d be concerned if you weren’t feeling some of those things.”

Kim’s words are reassurances, she’s trying to send Leah into a false sense of comfort, enough comfort that she’ll start to open up to Kim, that she’ll finally let all of her walls and mental barricades down.

“Kim, seriously, I’m fine.”

Kim exhales, deeply, she’s letting go of her lenient side, breathing it out and expelling the soft part of her that was dancing circles around Leah’s mental state, hoping that she’d open up on her own, but it was crystal clear that was Leah was not going to be volunteering that information.

“Leah, have you been struggling?”

It’s a blunt question, and as Leah looks up at Kim with complete shock and fear on her face she can’t find anything besides concern and questioning in her eyes.

“What does that matter?”

It’s a deflection, a weak one, an attempt at trying to pivot Kim, Leah knows subconsciously though that it’s not going to work, Kim sees through it.

“I’m worried about you, I know a lot of the team is. I know you’re struggling Leah, whether you want to admit it or not.”

Leah forces herself to take a deep breath, the unwavering depth in her Captain’s eyes is unmissable, tormenting her from a metre away.

“Leah for the last month you’ve looked like you’re on the cusp of a nervous breakdown, and that’s okay, there is nothing wrong with that. But feeling that way for a whole month isn’t normal.”

Leah knows Kim is right, the older Scot is hardly ever wrong, she’s only seven years older than Leah, but sometimes Kim seems wiser than her mother, sometimes she treats Leah like her daughter, this moment is one of those moments.

“Kim, please just leave me alone.”

Leah is pleading, begging, praying that Kim will just leave her be, stop trying to make her feel things that she doesn’t want to.

“I’ll shut up but I’m not leaving you alone, not when you feel like this.”

Leah feels like Kim knows what she’s feeling better than Leah does, and that’s a weird feeling, knowing that Kim knows exactly what swirly weird thoughts are happening in Leah’s confusing brain.

“Leah, you’re obviously not doing very well.”

Leah cuts Kim off before she can say much more, because she’s honestly sick of hearing Kim’s half lecturing half concerned voice in her ear.

“Thanks for stating the obvious Kim, no, I’m not doing fucking well, I’m pretty sure a blind man could figure it out, so please, for gods sakes, leave me the fuck alone.”

In some strange way, it’s like music to Kim’s ear, hearing Leah openly admit her problems, because it means that Kim is slowly easing her up, slowly getting her to hone in on her emotions.

“Leah, talk to me, what’s up?”

All of a sudden Leah’s face contorts into one of genuine pain, and Kim feels her gut drop for a second.

“Kim I need you to just leave me the fuck alone like I’ve already fucking asked you too.”

Kim likes to think that she’s fairly lenient, she knows how much her girls, her teammates, can take. She knows how to handle most situations, and to an outsider, in this situation they’d probably say that Kim should leave Leah alone.

Kim knows Leah, just like she knows everybody else on the team. She knows that Leah, in all of her stubbornness and masking, often needs someone there for her, although she’d never admit it.

“Leah Cathrine, you can be as angry as you’d like, but you won’t talk to me or anybody like that, especially someone who is just trying to look out for you. Now, I’ll ask you once again, and give you the opportunity to answer me honestly before I haul your ass out of here and onto the bus. Leah, you know that I would never judge you, nobody on this team will ever judge you, and if they do they’ll have me to deal with. We all love you so much, you’re our Leah, our baby girl, and we all just want the best for you.”

Leah forces herself to take a breath, she feels more tears falling down her face as Kim’s words truly start to impact her.

“Sarina’s here, and I played like shit. My knee fucking kills, the olympics are in two months and I’m playing like shit. I’ve never had anxiety, never had a panic attack besides the euro finals, and all of a sudden, I’m a emotional fucking wreck and can’t get my shit together, I need to be better.”

Kim takes a good look at Leah’s franticness, it’s so unlike her, but also not unexpected.

“Leah, take some deep breaths for me honey, use your diaphragm.”

Kim’s voice has dropped a few octaves, and it’s lost all of the tension that was previously in it.

“Everyone on the team thinks I’m weak, stupid and weak, fucking useless.”

Kim stops Leah’s ramble before she takes it too far.

“Leah, listen to me. You are not weak, or stupid, or useless, or anything that your brain is telling you. You are recovering from a devastating injury. You are not perfect. You are doing your best.”

Leah looks up at Kim, with big doe eyes full of tears, she looks so helpless, like a young child.

“You are Sarina’s captain Leah, she’s going to pick you for the olympics. She’d be crazy not too, and if she doesn’t, which isn’t going to happen but with the off chance, then we can go watch them, or we can stay in London and work on your recovery. There will be people around, friends, family. You will not be alone.”

Leah doubts Kim, even though her captain sounds so sure she can’t help but feel a little bit insecure. Millie’s been doing her job for almost a year now, and she’s been doing a bloody good job of it, it makes Leah wonder if Sarina is even going to want her back, especially when her and Millie play the same position on the pitch.

“Leah, honey, I say this as someone who loves you and cares about you more than you’ll ever know. If your knee is hurting, then you should be telling the trainers, and not pushing it. You know your body, and if it’s hurting you need to rest. I know that you want to be playing, and you're finally allowed to so it’s this big deal, but you need to listen to your body and not hurt yourself further. I don’t want to have to tell Jonas and the trainers that you are playing through pain, so I need you to do it, before I bench you for endangering yourself.”

Kim hates how broken Leah looks, and if she could she’d pick Leah up and give her a big hug and say sorry for everything that she’s going through, and she’ll get to that, but right now, Leah is the most impressionable, and this is Kim’s chance to get through to her.

“Leah, every single person on this team loves you, no matter what. This team, this family, all of the love is completely unconditional, you don’t have to put on a brave face for them, I can guarantee you that if we walked into that locker room right now all they would want to do is make sure that you are okay. Nobody is here to condemn you, or make you feel like shit. We all care about you Leah, we’re all worried about you, not mad or angry.”

Leah looks up at Kim, her wobbling bottom lip between her teeth and tears, she looks so gutted, so much smaller than she really is.

“I failed them.”

It’s the first words that have left Leah’s mouth in a while, and it sends a sob barrelling directly from her lips.

This sob, this breakage, this sign of outward weakness speaks volumes to Kim, and it has her scooching over so she’s sitting beside Leah, their shoulders brushing up against each other. When Leah leans into the contact Kim raises one of her arms, putting it across the back of Leah’s shoulder blades and bringing the younger defender into her body.

Kim leans down, pressing her lips to Leah’s forehead, letting them linger for a little bit.

“Leah, honey, no matter what, you could never fail any of us, even if you had ten own goals in a final, none of us could care less, your our Le, our super star. You could never fail us.”

Leah forces herself to take a deep breath, to compose herself, Leah Williamson does not cry.

Except today, today she does, for so many different reasons, and yet absolutely no reason.

“I just don’t want to disappoint anybody, everyone needs me to be good, everyone expects me to be good.”

It’s like a mantra to Leah, a reminder, it’s her bible.

Leah Williamson does not lose, Leah Williamson does not disappoint, Leah Williamson cannot be a failure.

Yet today, it feels like she’s done all of those things, and it’s too much for her, too much for her heart to handle.

“Leah, I’m not wanting to rush you, we can sit here for as long as we have to for you to feel better, but the bus is waiting for us, and I know the girls really want to see you. Plus, my old lady knees are starting to cramp up in here.”

It’s lighthearted, but Leah feels the pressure fall down on her chest like a stack of heavy bricks.

Kim sees the change, and she does exactly what Leah needs, she brings her into her lap for a bone breaking hug.

“They’re going to be mad.”

Leah’s voice is a murmur, low and so quiet that Kim almost misses it.

“Leah I can promise you nobody in that room is going to be mad at you, proud, happy, overjoyed, yes. But one hundred percent not mad. We’ll go out there, get you changed out of these freezing clothes, you can talk to whoever you’d like to. We’ll leave the changerooms, there will probably be people there to talk to you, maybe Sarina, maybe so people from the press, probably your mum. Talk to whoever you want to, then we’ll hop on the bus and get back to the hotel. Okay? I just need you to be brave for me and do it, because I know you can, all of us girls know you can, okay?”

It takes Leah a little bit to nod in agreement with Kim, but eventually she does, her head lifting from its spot buried in Kim’s windbreaker.

“C’mon then, let’s get you up.”

Kim uses all of her strength to lift herself up off the floor, the pre match soreness has settled into her bones and muscles and she makes an internal joke about the old age really starting to get to her.

Once she’s stood up properly she reaches to pull Leah up, even if her back is aching and her knees are sore.

Leah’s unsteady on her legs, like a baby with sealegs, or a newborn baby horse. Kim has to quite literally manhandle Leah into leaning onto her, her arms wrapped around Kim’s much smaller form.

It’s uncomfortable, but Kim makes do, unlocking the stall and dragging Leah over to the sink.

“Wash your face off honey.”

Leah takes one look at herself in the mirror and is instantly shocked, her eyes are thoroughly red rimmed, puffy and altogether Leah just looks like a complete mess.

She leans down to the sink, turning the faucet and washing some of the ice cold water over her face. It doesn’t do much, it doesn’t really do anything besides wipe the tear stains from her face and make a little bit of the redness subside. Not enough to make it look like she hasn’t been crying herself sick, and definitely not enough to make it look like she has her shit together.

She wants to tell Kim to go ahead without her, but one look at the Scottish captain through the mirror tells Leah that anything she says is going to be useless.

So she swallows and spits a little bit of water to clean the acid taste from her mouth and then she stands herself up, righting her uniform and leaning herself back onto Kim, her legs and stomach feeling as uneasy as her current metal state.

When Kim makes it to the door of the bathroom, Leah feels her stomach drop, plummeting to her feet. Kim doesn’t hesitate, even with Leah draping her studs down against the concrete.

Leah keeps her head down, completely ashamed and unable to look at the faces of any of her teammates.

Kim leads her over to her cubby, sitting her down on the seat gently before sitting herself down in front of Leah, pulling off her soaked cleats and leaving them on the floor for later.

“Leah, honey, look at me please.”

Leah struggles to take her eyes from her lap, where her hands are sitting, fiddling aimlessly with the skin around her nail beds.

She eventually does though, keeping her eyes solely focused on Kim’s face, not letting her eyes travel to any of her teammates.

“You need to get changed, but my knees are really sore so I don’t think I can hold you up by myself, I need to go see one of the trainers. Who would you like to help you?”

No one.

That’s the answer that bounces around Leah’s head.

“I can do it myself.”

Leah’s words come from a stubborn mindset, the mindset that is making her feel even sicker for being so openly vulnerable.

“How about Viv and Beth, or Katie, or Jen?”

Leah hates all of the options, because they all include her having to be vulnerable with more people.

“I can do it myself.”

Kim rolls her eyes, her face still as stern and set as ever.

“It’s not up for argument Leah, I’m going to go get Viv, okay?”

If Leah had to make a choice, it would have been either Beth or Viv, because both of them have been through what she has, but Viv is the better option, because she won’t try and make jokes with Leah.

So Leah allows Kim to get up from the floor in front of her, and wander off to wherever she has too, to find Viv.

It’s about thirty seconds later that a pair of white nike shoes show up beside Leah’s sock covered feet.

“Leah, liefje, kom voor mij op?” Leah, love, stand up for me?

Leah’s not fluent in Dutch, she can’t speak a word of the language besides some simple conversation and basic terms of endearment, but for whatever reason she understands Viv perfectly.

Using the wall of her cubby as a crutch, she stands herself up, looking at Viv with a lot of questioning in her eyes.

Viv doesn’t wait for permission, she just reaches for the bottom of Leah’s jersey, lifting it up until Leah’s forced to put her arms up so Viv can pull it over her head.

Before leah’s left shivering, Viv’s helping her pull a long sleeve top and hoodie over her body, making her once freezing body a little bit warmer.

Once Viv has the hoodie pulled around Leah tightly she moves to her shorts, once again not waiting for permissions and tugging them as well as her compression shorts down.

Before she tugs the sweatpants on though, she secures a knee brace and ice pack to Leah’s knee.

Leah’s almost embarrassed about the fact that she nearly moans when the ice makes contact with her knee, the cold contrast feeling so incredible on her inflamed and sore skin.

Viv then moves onto the sweatpants, pulling Leah’s feet through the bottoms of them and then pulling them up and over her knees gently before securing the pants loosely around Leah’s hips.

Once her clothes are on, and Leah is feeling a little bit happier and spacey from the welcome warmth, Viv sits her back down on the bench.

She pulls Leah’s socks off, dutch simplicity leaving her lips as she gently applies, newer and softer socks to Leah’s feet, Viv’s warm hands gently rubbing over Leah’s feet as she pulls the socks over her toes and ankle, before pulling out a pair of ugg boots that Leah has never seen before and tugging them onto her feet.

Normally, Leah would revolt against the break of uniform, but she’s too tired, too vulnerable, too broken to care.

Viv can apparently tell, because in a few seconds time there is a group of girls flanking her, all with the same soft, calm expressions on their faces.

Katie, Beth, Viv, Jen and Lia.

“Hey baby girl, time to get you to the bus hey?”

It’s Beth’s gentle voice, quiet and soft.

“M’ sorry.”

It’s the only thing going through Leah’s brain, endlessly repeating like a record that keeps replaying.

“Hey, you’ve got nothing to be sorry for and we’ll talk about it on the bus, but we just need to get you there, okay? So Viv and Jen are going to help you, Katie will grab your things and I’ll make sure that any press stragglers stay away, okay?”

Leah feels defeated, and broken, but she nods anyway.

Jen and Viv reach down to pull her up, Beth leading the way out of the change rooms and back into the tunnel. Luckily, there are no stragglers, and the trip is fairly easy, Kim joining the group somewhere along the way with ice packs secured to both of her knees but she looks as if she's in good enough spirits.

They manage to manhandle Leah onto the bus and into a seat, cocooned between Kim and a window.

Kim whispers sweet nothings in her ear the whole ride home, reassurances that Leah doesn’t really hear with her ringing ears.

It’s actually Viv who brings Leah out of her trance, pulling Kim out of her seat beside her so Viv can sit down.

Leah, liefde, listen to me for a second please.”

Leah takes a deep breath.

“You did everything you could have, we all did everything we could have, this is not your fault nor your burden to take. None of us will accept you taking the burden for this. You can’t allow yourself to, because this,” Viv’s hand falls on Leah’s puffed up knee, covered with an ice pack, butLeah understands what she means.

“Is not going to get better if you don’t allow yourself to heal mentally. We’re all here for you, we’re all going to carry you when you are down, please Leah, for me, for your mum, for anybody, just let yourself rest. We’ll review, and as a team we will get better, but we need you beside us getting better as well, we need you out here leading the team, like we all know you can. Take a night, reflect and then come back tomorrow with the mindset that you have something to prove, to us, to Jonas, to Sarina, yes?”

Leah looks at Viv, looks at how genuine she is, how she definitely knows exactly what Leah is feeling.

The words linger for a few seconds, before a mass of Arsenal hoodies are piling on top of Leah and Viv, a struggle of arms and hands securing themselves around Leah.

It’s warm, happy and loving.

It’s everything that Leah has been working to create in this environment for years, not for herself, for everyone around her. But having it come back to her, it hits her like a freight train, and suddenly, or not so suddenly, Leah realises that she’s not doing everything by herself, she doesn’t have to when this is her team.

#woso #woso community #leah williamson #arsenal wfc #leah williamson x arsenal #kim little #baby vivi #vivianne miedema #leah makes me cry #i love leah williamson #golden retriever leah vibes #love angst #i love some hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #im hurtin #marry me rn

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pi-cat000 · 1 year

Text

MSA time travel idea (part 44)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, Vivi POV, 8, 9, 10, Lewis POV, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, Lance POV 18, 19, Lewis POV 2, 21 , 22, Vivi POV 2, 24, 25 Lewis POV 3, Mystery POV , Vivi POV 3, 29, Lewis POV 4, 31, ViVi POV 4 , 33, 34, Lewis POV 5, Mystery POV 2, Lewis POV 6, Vivi POV 5, Lewis POV 7 Vivi POV 6 Vivi POV 7 42 43

Part 45 here?

...

When Arthur blinks back awake his head is heavy like it has been filled with cotton and there is a persistent throbbing soreness to his shoulder. Out of habit, he checks his arm. It is still his arm and still attached to his shoulder. The dull pain is from a shotgun wound and not a recent amputation. After several years of arm-related pains and aches, it is a familiar enough sensation. Easily ignored. Best to just go back to sleep and let the world fade away. Everything is better when he is not awake to feel the press of guilt weighing on his throughs. Fittingly, it is this same guilt that drags him into a more coherent state.

He can’t drift back to sleep yet.

What right does he have to sleep when his Uncle and Lewis might never wake up? For all he knew his last conversation with Vivi had been a hallucination conjured by his exhausted brain and his Uncle was dead and Lewis possessed.

He shifts his attention to the room, immediately spying Vivi sitting at his bedside. The room is quiet enough that he can hear her finger tapping aggressively across her phone. She is hunched under Lewis’s oversized jacket, reading something on her phone, her brow creased into a scowl. The dirt on her face is gone and her shirt is a lighter shade of blue so enough time has passed for Vivi to leave the hospital, get changed, and come back.

He clears his throat to catch her attention, watching how a faint smile tugs at the corners of Vivi’s mouth when their eyes meet. Like she is happy to see him or something.

“Are Lew…” he immediately breaks into a coughing fit before fumbling for the half-full cup at his bedside, shrugging away Vivi’s attempt at helping and gulping the water down.

He clears his throat again.

“Lewis and Uncle Lance? Are they…” alive?

Vivi’s smile falls away, settling into a more neutral line of worry.

“Lance is still in intensive care, but only because he needs a ventilator. The nurse in his ward says he’ll be moved out today as long as there is no further complications with his injuries. As for Lewis’s situation…” She breaths out, face crumpling ever so briefly, “there’s been no change. He’s still in a coma…”

“Do you think I can see them?” Maybe it’s dumb but Arthur wants to confirm with his own eyes that they are both alive. He attempts to wiggle upright and finds it difficult from his prone position.

“I can’t see why not. They’re in different parts of the hospital so it’s a bit of a walk.” Vivi looks him over, gaze critical. Pain spikes in his chest and he fumbles for the bed’s remote knocking over the now empty cup, so it tumbles to the ground.

“…we should ask a nurse first,” she amends, catching the remote before he can knock it off the table as well. She offers it to him, and gives a shaky smile. He tries to return the gesture but the expression feels wrong...disconcerting…He lets his eyes drop to focus on the remote, selecting the setting that would raise him into a more upright position.

Vivi’s hand rests against his shoulder, drawing his eyes back to her.

“Just take it easy Arthur. I checked in on Lance not even an hour ago and Nicholas and Maria are with Lewis almost around the clock. They’ll let me know if things change.” She holds up her phone which is lit up with several message notifications, none were from Lewis's parents.

“Right…” Arthur lets himself relax back onto the bed with a weary exhale. “Okay…”

He doesn’t have the energy to make a fuss or press for more. Not with Vivi looking so upset. Arthur doesn’t think-not even in his own timeline- he has ever seen Vivi look so unhappy. But of course, in his timeline, Vivi had complexly forgotten Lewis and it was hard to be sad about something you couldn’t remember.

Their conversation fizzles out and Arthur lets himself fall back onto the bed in favour of staring at the ceiling.

Remembering was better. It had to be better. Right?

Lewis wasn’t in the clear yet. If Lewis died then…then maybe forgetting was better. The ugly thought twists in his chest. Lewis’s disappearance had been the source of so much going wrong in his life. Would he have been better off completely forgetting as well?

“….” Vivi clears her throat and he twitches. Awkwardly, he shifts his attention back to her, realising he was still staring unblinkingly at the ceiling.

“I’ll go ask a nurse and see if we can visit Uncle Lance,” Vivi says, saving him from what would surely have been a clumsy attempt at reassurance.

“Just wait a second… I’ll be right back.”

Not like he could go anywhere. He has nowhere to go.

When Vivi returns she is accompanied by a harried-looking nurse who, despite not appearing pleased, helps Arthur into a wheelchair, impressing upon him the importance of not making an extraneous movement.

Arthur half follows along with the instructions. This isn’t his first time in the hospital with a serious injury. Everything is very familiar including Vivi pulling out her phone to take notes, nodding seriously. Deja vu. He is really starting to hate the feeling.

“…and please stay on hospital grounds.” The nurse finishes after which Vivi asks a few more questions which Arthur doesn’t pay attention to. The energy needed for him to move from his bed into the chair has left him exhausted.

“Arthur. I’m going to push you now. Let me know if anything hurts or if I’m going too fast or something.” Vivi leans over him, filling his field of view.

He takes a long, tired breath. “Sure…”

Vivi bites at her bottom lip, obviously worried. He tries once again to muster up a smile and give her some indication that he appreciates her efforts. Even if said efforts were undeserved.

All he can manage is a grimace.

…..

Lance is alive.

He had known Lance was alive. Why would Vivi lie about that? Seeing that his Uncle was alive in person makes it real.

Arthur leans as far forward as he can while confined to the wheelchair, attempting to see as much of the man as possible. From this low angle, he can see the profile of his uncle’s face and not much else. Despite it being eerily pale his chest is rising and falling in slow rhythmic patterns. There is a heart monitor counting out steady beats. The beeping is loud enough that it thankfully drowns out the soft tick-tick of the clock on the wall. This wasn’t the room Lance had almost died in but it looks similar enough that makes his skin itch. He focuses on the beep beep of the monitor and the soft breaths of his Uncle instead.

Some small, fractured shard in his chest loosens. The demon had failed. Maybe his cursed luck had rubbed off on it while it occupied Arthur’s body. Maybe Arthur’s unique ability to screw everything up had been passed onto the demon.

Sharing is caring.

He glances away from his Uncle’s chest and up at Vivi who is sitting in the room’s visitor's chair.

She is still chewing at her bottom lip, watching Lance. When she notices him watching, she turns, looking like she wants to ask a question. An uncomfortable question going by her hesitation. There is no shortage of possible topics. Arthur has barely explained anything.

She doesn’t ask her question and Arthur turns back to his Uncle. They both sit in unbroken silence.

…

The hallway between his and his Uncle's rooms has large windows with a view onto a half-paved, half-gravel courtyard. The open-air courtyard separates the hospital’s two main buildings and access to the adjacent research centre. Arthur can't help but let his eyes be drawn to the space. The sun outside is directly overhead, meaning everything is blindingly bright, making the hospital’s interior dim by comparison. Benches and tables are clustered around two sprawling trees at its centre. All were occupied by groups of off-duty doctors, nurses, and researchers. Nobody wanted to sit on the benches placed along the perimeter and under the hash midday sun.

Vivi follows his gaze. “Do you want to go outside?”

Arthur shrugs.

....

They end up sitting on the bench closest to the building entrance, barely shaded in the lea of the hospital. Well, Vivi sits on the beach. Arthur sits in his wheelchair next to her. It doesn’t take long for the sun to beat some warmth into him.

Deja vu all over again. He and Vivi had spent several afternoons sitting in this courtyard, talking themselves in circles trying to figure out what had happened in the Cave. He remembers accidentally trigging one of Vivi’s more severe blackouts on this exact bench trying to get her to remember Lewis. Months later, when Arthur started working on his prosthetic arm at the research centre, Vivi would visit on her lunch breaks and they would eat out here together. He doesn’t know why the memory makes his throat tight.

“It’s a bit hot out,” Vivi comments awkwardly, tugging off Lewis’ jacket to rest across her lap. She eyes him, tilting her head to the side.

“It's nice I guess…the hospital is too cold…” she continues after a beat.

“This place could do with more trees though.” She eyes the space and squints at the sun critically. “There’s not enough shade out here.”

“Yeah…” he agrees in lieu of anything substantial to say. The statement rings familiar. Vivi had complained about the lack of shade in the courtyard back then as well.

He lets out a weary breath, “So…” He might as well do this now while he has some iota of energy. Once he was back in his bed this would be almost impossible.

“So?” Vivi repeats.

“So…do you want to talk about it.”

“It?”

He hesitates, “You want to ask questions, right?” Obviously, she has questions he has barely told her jack, his own mind mocks him.

“That obvious huh?”

“A little …” he winces which has Vivi looking concerned again, “I know when you’ve got something on your mind.”

“I’m just worried.” She gestures at the hospital buildings around them. “about you and Lewis and everything else. It’s…it’s a lot to process.”

“In the future…” He starts, “In my timeline, I lost my arm like Lewis.” It feels like a cruel joke explaining it but, if the information helps, then little discomfort was worth it.

“It happened just after Lewis…ah…” he swallows, deciding that mentioning Lewis’s death probably wasn’t a great idea if his goal was to make Vivi feel better.

He starts again, “The old mines-the cave where I lost my arm- there was no cell reception out there, not up in mountains. Vivi, my Vivi, had to drive me to the main road so I probably lost just as much if not more blood. It took a few days, but I still woke up abet missing a few key memories. Hopefully, it’ll be the same for Lewis…i mean he’s a lot bigger than me...more blood?”

Shiny blue eyes meet his, unsure, conflicted.

“Lewis should wake up,” he clarifies, “hopefully not missing any important memories. The missing memory thing kind of sucked…a lot…” He tails off lamely, swallowing again to help with his dry throat. Understatement of the century. What if Lewis ended up with memory problems like Vivi? God, if Lewis forgets anyone let it be him and not Vivi. Please don’t let Lewis forget Vivi. Unease sits about him like a well-worn coat.

Vivi sighs, “I…” She shifts to sit a little straighter like she was physically pushing aside their combined gloom, “yeah…I hope so too.”

Arthur grimaces. He had always been terrible at cheering Vivi up. “You can ask more questions. I…I’ll answer them now.”

“I do have a few,” Vivi agrees, and lets a long, frustrated breath, “Okay…I have more than a few questions.” Another pause. “Actually, I have nothing but questions really.” Her open mouth clicks shut and he finds himself the subject of a scrutinising stare. She is scanning his face for something…he doesn’t know what.

“I promise I will answer?” He tries to inject some enthusiasm into the statement, but his voice sounds just as thin and tired as he feels. Vivi’s stare turns troubled.

“I mean…” Arthur starts again, “I’ll tell the truth. I did promise I would."

“That’s not….” Vivi interrupts and frowns. She takes a breath, “I don’t want people lying to me and that includes lies of omission. But look, just rest, get better, and tell me when you’re ready. I know about time travel and the body snatcher. I have Mystery to answer the more general questions now he's actually telling me stuff. You just focus on recovery.”

She nods to herself and sits back on the bench satisfied.

“I’m fine,” he reassures. “Just ask away…hmm…some of it isn’t very pleasant but I’m fine.” If he repeats it enough times maybe it would come true as if that strategy had ever worked for him.

“...” Vivi raises a brow, giving him one of her ‘do you seriously think I’ll believe that’ looks.

“I am fine.” He defends.

Vivi huffs, crossing her arms, “I thought you said you’d be telling the truth.”

Arthur grimaces, “That’s not fair. I’m fine enough for this.”

“You’re really not.”

“I mean…aside from the bullet wound I’m fine. Just ask me anything.” And now he just sounds desperate. Great. Why does Vivi pick this to be adamant about?

Vivi just scans him again, silent, scrutinising, like she is trying to decide what question to ask. It is a familiar expression.

“Arthur. Are we friends?”

Arthur blinks. “What?” Not the question he had expected.

“In the future are we friends?”

“Yes. Of course, we are, were, friends. You've always been my best friend,”

“I’m still your friend, right?”

“Ah…” Arthur hesitates because…because he doesn’t know what to say. Were they friends? Did Vivi still want to be friends? Why, after all his lying and the trouble he caused, would she still want to be friends? His hesitation does him no favours because Vivi is now a mix of indignant and worried.

“Maybe?” He answers. Vivi’s whole forehead lifts in disbelief.

“I mean…Yes?” He tries again.

“Then stop acting like we’re not,” Vivi bites, anger colouring her voice before she takes a calming breath and confirms, “We’re friends.”

She uncrosses her arms, turning so she can give the side of this wheelchair a light tap, “and as your friend, I want you to take it easy. If you’re set on telling me everything, then we can do it later. There will be time for explanations and questions. I’m not going anywhere.”

Oh no. He was not waiting for later. If he didn’t say something now he’d never have the courage to say it. It was now or never.

“The other Arthur, the one original Arthur from this timeline, he wanted to go on the supernatural-themed road trip originally, before I came back and replaced him.” He begins, ignoring Vivi's attempt at interrupting.

“We painted the van and put on that Mystery Skull logo like you always wanted. It even turned out looking pretty cool. Technically I didn’t lie about being afraid of supernatural stuff. Everything bad in our lives started on that road trip and none of it was normal or explainable. I didn’t want you and Lewis to get hurt.”

Arthur scrambles to reorder the sorry saga into something that was somewhat chronological, trying to separate the two timelines out in his head so he could cover any major differences. He could skip the majority of the road trip. He barely remembered enough of the good parts to recap them anyway.

“The road trip ended with Lewis disappearing you see, and I didn’t want a repeat of that. It didn’t work. You both got hurt anyway. Sorry.” He mutters the last bit like saying sorry made any difference.

“Arthur…” Vivi tries to interrupt again but Arthur pushes on.

“We solved mysteries, saw way too many lame roadside attractions, went to every haunted diner between here and California and no one got food poisoning … It was a good road trip. Your…ah…your itinerary was spot on.”

Vivi’s expression is now pinched, pained. He gives a weak almost-smile which Vivi doesn’t return. He quickly looks away, staring at his lap, mouth dry.

He swallows and chokes out, “Then there was the Demon. The Cave. No more arm. No more Lewis. Haha.” Even to his own ears his laugh sound hollow. His chest hurts and he takes a shuddering breath.

“I didn’t remember Lewis dying. Not at first. Not for a long while. Traumatic amnesia will do that apparently.”

Too much of a coward…locking away the memories of his role in Lewis’s death. If not for the demon, who knows if he would have ever remembered?

“Everyone tried to tell me Lewis was gone, but I didn’t listen. Guess I just didn’t want to believe it. To me, it was like he had just vanished. Poof. I always knew something was off about it. Something more to the story than Lewis getting lost in a cave and...and succumbing to exposure somewhere where none of the search parties could find him…I was only partially right."

He blinks rapidly to clear incoming tears. With no demon to dull this physical response, it feels like he reliving that moment of realisation all over again. The grief feels like a lead brick sitting in his chest.

“and Vivi got hit with some memory curse. The memory curse was our running theory because it targeted her memories of Lewis specifically. She forget him, everything about him and most things associated with him. It was too specific to be anything normal. It had to be a curse because a curse was better than brain damage or anomalous, medically inexplicable, memory loss triggered by a traumatic event. At least a curse might have been curable. No one believed us.”

And why would they have believed him? Arthur had barely believed it himself.

“It was bad in the beginning when no one knew what was wrong. We would mention Lewis’s name and you would just not register it or check out like a real-life blue screen. You barely recognised his parents. Anything that reminded you of him kind of zonked you out. After we discovered what was triggering it…” he swallows the familiar old sting of helpless frustration ignites, adding to his grief, “At least we knew what to avoid talking about."

“Once I recovered enough from losing my arm we went searching... ” He chokes out and stops talking because he physically can’t continue.

A glance at Vivi shows that she is understandably upset, her face slightly paler despite the sun's heat.

“I’m guessing convincing me to search for a person I didn’t remember wasn’t easy,” She mumbles and her voice also sounds wobbly like she’s trying to not cry.

He quickly looks away, sniffing back tears and pushing on, “You do like to ask questions and know things. I used to say we were searching for your memories…it was close enough to the truth. I thought that maybe, if we found Lewis, the memories would all come back. I was kind of desperate.”

It had always been a farfetched goal. The kind of goal that sprung from desperate hope. Hope so painful it kept him awake at night on the rare occasions the nightmares didn’t. Hope that he would carefully tuck away in the morning to prevent Vivi from catching on to the fact that something was terribly wrong.

It feels oddly freeing to voice this to Vivi now. He had clung to the belief that finding Lewis would break some mysterious curse and return all Vivi’s missing memories for so long that he had grown afraid that any points to the contrary would cause his motivation to crumble. It had always been a point of tension between him and Vivi. He wishes he could have explained it back then. Back when it mattered.

“Was saving Lewis the reason you came back?”

Arthur blinks rapidly to clear his vision and glances to the side, “No. It wasn’t. Like I said, I didn’t know Lewis was gone gone until I was…” He stops, wincing and swallowing, “I was already here in that past when I found out he was..d..dead.”

“I don’t know how I came back. We were out on one of our investigations looking for Lewis and we ran into this…Tree creature…looked like a human-shaped tree…. I hit it with the van by accident. It’s kind of hard to remember now...” He slowly sorts through half-truths. His encounter with Lewis directly after hitting the Tree Lady dwarfed everything else in his mind, making the strange attack seem barely important. He hardly remembers events between seeing Lewis at his ghost mansion and crashing into Kingsman Mechanics.

“I ended up crashing the van...” Arthur stops, stalling. Then Lewis killed him…his brain helpfully supplies.

All his fault…he had wanted Lewis dead. So weak and pathetic. It was only fair that Lewis return the favour.

“...and I woke up in my bed. At home. In this body. Two years in the past…” He finishes quickly.

“The demon…”

“Body snatcher.” Vivi corrects. “Don’t call it a demon,” she explains, “Calling it a demon makes it sound impressive. That thing was a parasitic asshole.”

“Ri…Right,” The venom in Vivi’s voice has him restarting, “The… body snatcher…” He shakes off his discomfort and the undercurrent of fear. Arthur remembers how annoyed the demon had been when Vivi called it a body snatcher and a small part of him worries...

“It was just as surprised to find out about the time travel and was really interested in how I did it. I...I didn’t know anything useful …It, ah, went through my memories pretty throwaway so I got nothing…not even subconsciously. The…body snatcher…ah…found the memory of me pushing Lewis of a cliff…in the cave…that’s how I, ah, know I killed Lewis. The demon found the memory and showed me.”

There is a sharp movement and rustling next him and Vivi stands up. Then the crunch of gravel. Arthur tilts his head up to see Vivi standing in front of him, leaning over. She reaches out to put one hand on each of Arthur’s shoulder, grip relaxed so as not to aggravate his injury. She holds him at arm’s length, scanning his face, her expression intense.

“Stop that." She commands.

“Stop what?” Arthur responds dumbly.

“Stop saying you killed Lewis.”

“I…”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“You weren’t there. You can’t know that.”

“I know enough.”

“But…” the words stick again, “that’s just it! You don’t know. You don’t know everything…I…I haven’t told you everything yet. When I tell you, you’ll agree with me.” When he looks up the sun is high enough in the sky that it turns Vivi into a darkened outline, stirring up hazy half-forgotten deams.

He squints up at the blurry Vivi-shaped outline but can’t make out her face. The word around him is too blindingly bright to make out anything.

“It’ll be okay Arthur. Just explain what happened. I’ll understand...We all make mistakes.”

He deliberately averts his eyes, muttering, “Why are you both so stubborn.”

Vivi obviously hears because she pulls back and frowns. Then, slowly, she reaches out with one hand to touch his cheek. Arthur, confused, also reaches up with his uninjured arm to put his hand over hers. Vivi brings her other hand around so she is squeezing both his cheeks together, scanning his face.

“We’re not different people. Me and your 'future Vivi' are the same person. Just like you’re still my Arthur.”

He doesn't meet her gaze. It is a lot harder to do with her holding his face like this.

"I’m just as much your best friend as she was…”

“…” he doesn’t know what to say so pulls one of her hands away from his cheek.

“Any version of me would care if their friend,” She emphasises the word, retracting her other hand without prompting, straightening “went through something awful. I care. We’re the same.”

“But you’re...we're not. I’m not your friend…” Arthur can’t help but protest even when he knows he should give it up and let Vivi believe what she wants. Arthur never won these sorts of arguments. Better to let everything stew and think up an argument with sounder logic later when Vivi was less worked up.

Frustrated at himself he continues, “I came back to fix things, and everybody was worse off for it. I lied to you. I lied to Lewis. Now Lewis’s arm is gone…That was supposed to be me! I was the one who lost their arm. I hurt Uncle Lance. I killed Darrel! I stabbed him. He was nice. A good guy. He always took my shifts at the workshop when I couldn’t work and I couldn't save him. Just like I couldn't save Lewis. I'm cursed. If I had just not been here, he would be alive.”

“Two years Arthur,” Vivi interrupts, hash now, standing taller, hands on her hips, “You’re two years older. Last I checked, that doesn’t make you a monster so stop acting like I’ll pack up and leave because you aren’t 100%, A-Okay after living through all that horrible stuff. Nothing you say is going to change my mind so you can just quit while your ahead.”

When he opens his mouth to argue Vivi beats him to it, “Don’t you dare try and get rid of me.”

“I’ll confess.” He continues hysterically. If Vivi won’t believe him then maybe he should find a way to remove himself from the equation, “Turn myself in. I’ll tell the police I drove Darrel out into the desert and killed him.”

“No.” Vivi objects. Sharp and abrupt. “You’re not going to tell the police you did anything because it wasn’t you who did it.”

“I can’t just leave him out there. He deserves better.”

Vivi’s face spasms, “Not at your expense…You shouldn’t take the fall for this. Not on top of everything else.”

She glances around but the space around them is clear of people and Arthur realises that their conversation had been growing louder and more intense. The courtyard is now mostly empty with many of the hospital employees returning to work

Vivi lets out a long breath then kneels down, putting her at eye level, crouched in front of his chair.

Arthur still can’t hold eye contact. Vivi’s eyes are too intense.

“When the police come to question you,” she says in a lower voice, “you need to say that you came to the hospital to see your uncle then went off for some alone time to gather yourself. They’ll have you on the security cameras so you can’t deny that you were here. Luckily, they also have that asshole Micky on the cameras. Out of the two of you, he is way more suspicious, and they already have him in custody so it’s not completely unbelievable that he would kill some random employee. Guy was a nut case.”

“He’s not some random employee.” Arthur interrupts upset, finding his voice again, “Darrel was a friend, and I killed him.”

“No. No you didn’t,” Vivi snaps matching his upset with equal frustration. “Look, I know you think you deserve some punishment for...I don’t know...having a bad case of amnesia and getting possessed, both of which were out of your control. That bastard parasite probably fed you a bunch of bullshit lies as well. It seemed like just the type to gaslight. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Arthur stalls in unhappy silence, not prepared to compromise or give ground.

“If you confess to the murder then I’m going to say I was a co-conspirator and planned the whole thing.”

Arthur blinks, finally looking up. Vivi’s glare is frosty, intense, and unyielding.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Why…why would you do that.”

“I told you. I’m going to help you, Arthur. If you’re set on doing this, then I’m not letting you face murder charges alone. What did you think I meant when I said that.”

“Not this,” Arthur cracks, “You can’t.”

“I can and will.” She really meant that.

“But… you’ll be arrested or something…” He is not actually sure what would happen if Vivi randomly confessed to his crime.

“Just the way it has gotta’ be apparently.”

Arthur gets with another wave of déjà vu because he has had this conversation or a similar one with Vivi before. In another life. In a different future. It leaves him floundering as both versions of Vivi seem to meld into each other, like everything he loved about his own Vivi was seeping through to this new one.

“This isn’t …” He starts then stops. “It’s not supposed to be this way,” he says helplessly. Vivi wasn’t supposed to be this way.

“Of course not. What’s the point of changing the future if everything stays the same? We’ve both seen the same moves. You know how this works.”

“Half of those movies end with a lesson on inevitable consequences and fate.”

“And half of them end with everything sorting itself out. Look, we can argue about this until I get kicked out at closing time -remind me to find the paperwork so I can sign myself up as your medical proxy- but I can guarantee that nothing you will say will change my mind.”

Well, he’s not sure about that. Maybe if told her the real truth about Lewis and his role in his murder she would leave. He wasn’t sure. The answer, which moments ago he had been so certain of, was now unclear.

“I can’t leave Darrel out in the desert,” he repeats, exhausted, “He deserves better…”

Vivi frowns, opening her mouth and then clicking it shut, considering him. Her jaw clenches and she flops back so she is now leaning against his chair instead of crouching, half stretched out across the gravel path.

“Yeah…okay,” she props up an elbow against a knee, massaging her eyes. “How about this? You give me as good a proximation of the location as possible, or any landmarks you remember, and I’ll go track Darrel down with Mystery. Then I’ll leave an anonymous tip with the police, and they can handle the rest. How does that sound?”

“Like you’re giving me much of a choice.” He mutters, trying to not let his thoughts wander off into dangerous lands filled with crackling fire and unkind whispers that would berate him for giving in and letting Vivi bully him out of justly deserved consequences.

Vivi glances up at him and she is back to looking sad, anger falling away

“Maybe I’m being too blunt about all this. I’m not good at this sort of stuff,” she says, “but, Arthur, if Darrel was a friend, then he wouldn’t have blamed you. Just like I don’t blame you. Just like Uncle Lance or Lewis wouldn’t blame you.”

He can’t help but shiver. Bright purple flames dance across his vision like ghostly hands pulling his attention.

Lewis’s angry fire catches in in shirt and a sudden drop awaits on either side of him.

“This is your fault!”

He can almost feel the heat.

Lewis had blamed him.

He doesn’t know who to believe. Should he believe Vivi, sitting here with him, peering at him with such honest intensity that he can hardly stand to look at her? Or should he believe Lewis, dead by his hand, left in a future that didn’t exist?

For some strange, unfathomable reason, he thinks he believes Vivi. If she was so willing to share the consequences of his failures, then maybe she wouldn’t care that he was so weak and pathetic. He squashes the sentiment. He can’t think like that. It’s wrong.

It must be wrong.

...

Note: a year later and this is finally done.

#MSA #mystery skulls animated #arthur #ViVi #HEAVY ANGST #hospitals #unreliable narrator #fanfiction #fanfic #time travel #dialogue heavy

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firstdivisiongirl · 8 months

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HIIII sorry if you’ve already done this but could you do a ace x fem angst where she’s a mizu mizu no mi user and she’s going through all the 5 stages of greif but can you add revenge

THANK YOU XOXO 😁😁😁😁😁

Hi. I have not done anything like this before. I’ve been kind of obsessed with the thought of Ace having a s/o who is a water user. So I’m so thrilled that you sent this in. It’s a weird set up, but it’s for a reason. I hope you enjoy it!

WARNING: Angst, Spoilers, Mentions of depression

(Ace x Fem Reader) Waves of Grief

Denial.

He was going to come back. You knew it! That was just a joke. That’s what you told yourself. You would go to your favorite spot in the crows nest every day and wait. He was coming up to spend time with you. Right?

Anger.

You wish he’d just listen to Pops and let Teach go. He was such an idiot. He should have controlled his anger. He should have ignored Akainu and ran. But of course he couldn't because he was so dense. He wasn’t the only one you hated. You wished they would have stopped him every step along the way. You wished you had convinced him to stay!

Revenge.

You wanted to go after them ALL! Akainu. Blackbeard. You wanted to make them suffer like you. You knew you could. You were water. And that was a Devil Fruit’s weakness. You created a plan. You had started making preparations. You had found their current locations. You were ready to avenge his death. Until, Marco stopped you from going.

Bargaining.

What if I went with him? What if this, what if that. You prayed and prayed that he would come back. There were so many ifs. You wished you could be sent back to change it all. And if you were, you would be the best girlfriend and daughter in the world.

Depression.

Emptiness was all you felt. You wanted to do nothing. Not without Ace. He might have been fire, but opposites attract. Without him, you felt like there was no place to call home anymore. Nothing made you happy. You were numb. Everyone tried to help you, but nothing helped you feel better.

Acceptance.

He was gone. You knew that. It still hurt, but it was time to go on. Not because you didn’t love him. You did it because that’s what he would want his favorite girl to do. As you sailed on the ocean, in his striker he so loved. You still knew he was there, but in spirit. As you moved the striker with your water, you remembered his dying words. The ocean continues to move even when everything seems hopeless. Be the ocean. Continue to move. Thank you for loving me Y/N.”

Please do not copy, modify, translate, or repost my writing on other platforms. Comments, reblogs or likes are highly appreciated!

#one piece #trafalgar d vivi #portgas d. ace #fire fist ace #ace one piece #ace x reader #ace x y/n #ace x you #portgas d ace x y/n #portgas d ace x you #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace angst

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jenniejjun · 11 months

Text

FALSE GOD.

PAR: johnny suh x leitora!fem

GÊNERO: fluff e angst / idol!au

avisos: não tem nada demais nesse a não ser o fato de que é citado que a leitora e o johnny já terminaram antes, uma discussãozinha em que os dois são meio babaquinhas mas não tem nada tóxico (ao meu ver), a leitora também é artista.

PESSOINHA QUE PEDIU ALGO COM O JOHNNY EU PERDI SUA ASK DESCULPAAAAAAAAAAAAA! mas tá aqui, desculpa pela demora imensa! bom gente, como já tinha falado antes aqui, eu fiquei bem abaladinhe com a notícia dos shows da taylor swift e de que eu não poderia ir, sou fã dessa mulher há 10 anos e foi um puta baque pra mim. acabei perdendo a inspiração pra algumas coisas, mas tô de volta agora! os pedidos continuam abertos caso queiram pedir algo. essa fic é antiga e eu só adaptei pro johnny porque achei que combinava super com ele, esse homi me passa a impressão de false god todinha!

━━━ ⟡ JULHO, 2021.

Você olha pela janela e de repente são cinco da manhã em Seul. Da última vez que olhou para o relógio, mal passava do meio-dia, mas escrever um álbum pode ser assim tão avassalador. Toda a cidade estava a dormir, até o rapaz que considerava ser o dos seus sonhos estava a ressonar num sono profundo. Mas, por outro lado, você não conseguia bater um olho. Talvez fosse o fato de estar a pensar no álbum que estava a escrever, e este parece vazio. É como se precisasse de algo mais... precisasse de algo intenso. Que lembre às pessoas, e a você, o que são os sentimentos. Algo que, cada vez que cantasse, fizesse sua alma entrar em combustão, assim como as pessoas ao seu redor.

Você suspira, com a mente vazia, e vira-se para ver Johnny, o seu Johnny. O rapaz que lhe roubou seu coração há tantos anos. John que está a dormir pacificamente, alheio a tudo. Ele é tão bonito e tão seu, que poderia passar toda a sua vida a adorá-lo, independentemente do drama. Johnny tem sido tudo para si desde que se conheceram há dois anos atrás em no Inkigayo e pensar que houve um momento na sua vida em que realmente pensou que vocês poderiam ser apenas amigos depois de tudo, faz com que um vazio que você pensava ter preenchido se esvazie novamente.

Flashes sobre aquela noite passam-lhe pela cabeça, o medo entra-lhe no corpo como uma cobra. Frio e duro. Sai do quarto e dirige-se para a cozinha. A cozinha de vocês. O apartamento era pequeno, uma vez que era suposto ser um segredo, por isso a caminhada não demorou muito mais tempo. Sentindo a brisa a bater-lhe no rosto, e quando se instala numa cadeira, o seu olhar encontra a camisa de botões que ele vestiu no início da noite para o evento a que foram. Também a camisa que ele usou nessa noite.

Sentindo-se pequena, você abraça o pijama, abre o seu cancioneiro, pega na caneta que lhe estava presa e começa a rabiscar, sem saber por onde começar.

As memórias daqueles meses toldavam-lhe a mente e sabia que, se queria mesmo escrever uma canção sobre tão arrebatadora, teria de reabrir aquela ferida dolorosa. De alguma forma, parecia mais profunda do que a de 2019, mais madura. Lembrava-se de se sentir tão assustada, como se o fosse perder de novo.

Concentrando-se nesse medo, você escreve:

"And I can't talk to you when you're like this, staring out the window like I'm not your favorite town.”

E isso é tudo o que basta para a fazer voltar, como numa máquina do tempo, a uns meses atrás. Mesmo antes do eventos daquela fatídica noite, quando você era um pouco mais imatura e mais nova.

━━━ ⟡ FEVEREIRO, 2021.

Na sala de jantar da Irene cabiam 30 pessoas. De alguma forma, ela conseguiu colocar 50. Você estava enroscada com a sua melhor amiga a celebrar o seu aniversário antecipado, às oito da noite, quando a ouve. Em alto e bom som. Madison Tottenham e uma garota na qual você não conhecia, falavam sobre algo que Mark Lee disse. Você grunge ao ver aquilo.

"Se eu soubesse que aquela garota ia ser babaca e convidar a ex do teu namorado para a minha festa, nunca a teria convidado”, Irene disse, com um tom de veneno, os olhos a rolarem para a parte de trás do crânio.

"Para ser sincera, também não sabia que ela ia trazer a Madison”, Joy respondeu, com as mãos suadas. Você quase teve pena da pobre mulher, se não estivesse demasiado concentrada na garota morena que balançava o corpo ao som da música.

"Tudo bem”, você manteve as coisas simples.

Mas não era tão simples assim. Você não era alguém que agia por maldade, não importava quanta raiva tivesse por aquela pessoa. Se Madison estava lá, não deveria ser um grande problema. E não era. Não até que o reacender da sua amizade com Johnny começasse a florescer. Se ele quisesse voltar a ser amigo dela, tudo bem, mas você reconhecia que os sentimentos platônicos eram unilaterais. Os quadris a andar para trás e para a frente, os cabelos indo de um lado para o outro e os olhares. Era completamente desrespeitoso, mesmo que Johnny não estivesse a responder. A culpa é dela, você tem todo o direito de estar zangada. Com Madison, mas não pode deixar de se sentir zangada com seu namorado também.

O namorado que ficou ali a franzir o sobrolho quando viu a carranca na sua cara.

Você estava a ser injusta, sabia. O Suh só tinha olhos para ti. Isso explicava a forma como ele lhe beijava o pescoço, discretamente, cantarolando a sua canção preferida, quando reparava que estava aborrecida. Mesmo quando você se virava de costas.

"Estamos em público, para”, você disse, com um tom de voz firme, mas ao mesmo tempo suave. E ele apenas acenou com a cabeça, abraçando-a pelas costas e depositando um beijo no seu cabelo.

Por um momento, nem sequer se lembra do infeliz incidente. Vira-se para trás, alisando-lhe o cabelo com os dedos enquanto se abraçam. Até revira os olhos quando ouve um comentário provocativo de Jaehyun. As coisas voltam ao normal por um instante. Mas esse momento desvanece-se rapidamente quando Johnny vai beber um copo e acaba por ter uma conversa com a menina Tottenham.

Ela estende a mão para lhe tocar no ombro, rindo-se de algo que ele disse e isso faz seu sangue ferver. Johnny, felizmente, afastou-a instantaneamente quando se apercebeu que ela estava demasiado perto.

Mas, mesmo assim, sentiu a cara a ficar vermelha quando Taeyeon te abordou com algo sobre pensar em voltar com Baekhyun. O pânico corria-lhe nas veias, tanto quanto o estresse, quando você se desculpou com Irene. O que significava nada de festa e Johnny ao seu lado no carro. Má ideia.

A primeira coisa que faz quando chegam a casa é desbloqueá-la e pedir desculpa a Irene.

"foi mal mesmo, joo! prometo recompensar com uma noite das meninas qualquer dia desses.”

Não demorou muito para que ela te respondesse:

"relaxa, solzinho! se resolve com o johnny primeiro e depois a gente marca algo :)”

Você sentiu-se à beira das lágrimas, mas engoliu-as para deixar cair as chaves no balcão da cozinha. Você sabe que está a ser dramática, ainda mais quando percebe que o Suh lhe está a dar tempo para se abrir sobre o que a está a deixar chateada, mas as imagens de Madison a exibir-se como um troféu para ele não estavam a ajudar em nada. Quer que ele sinta que fez besteira, e das grandes. Mas, no fundo da sua mente, é apenas um ato egoísta.

"Quer falar sobre isso?", Johnny te pergunta enquanto se deixa cair no sofá da sala de estar.

"Sinceramente, não sei como expressar o que sinto”, você diz do outro lado da sala, com os braços fechados à volta da sua figura. "Porque é que não a impediu?"

Johnny suspira. "Pensei que tinha deixado bem claro que sou teu namorado o tempo todo, bê. Já passamos por isto antes, estou contigo e com mais ninguém. Ela que se foda se não consegue respeitar isso."

"Eu sei, mas não podia simplesmente dizer que tem namorada?", você pergunta, lentamente.

"Ela sabe que eu tenho namorada. Madison só tá tentando se meter entre a gente, eu conheço ela, mas se você quiser eu grito pro mundo que você é a minha garota”, Johnny assegurou sério. “Não posso empurra-lá na frente de todo mundo, essa merda chega na mídia e é um inferno. Tu sabe disso, vai ser maior do que precisa de ser”, sim. Você sabia disso, mas isso não a impediu de suspirar, Johnny parecia etéreo mesmo quando as suas palavras a magoavam involuntariamente.

"Então, eu tenho que ficar aqui sentada sempre que ela se atira em você?”, quis saber.

"Não, não. Claro que não, linda, isto é provavelmente uma coisa de uma só vez. É só ela querendo atenção”, o tom da sua voz era suave quando ele se levantou e caminhou até você, envolvendo os braços à volta da sua cintura. Suh beijou o seu nariz. No entanto, o contato não durou muito tempo. "Amor."

“Nem vem, John. Ela faz isso sempre, cada vez que se encontram”, você pega a palavra novamente, exasperada. "Sabe que não me importaria se fosse outra pessoa. Mas não é, é ela. É sempre ela, não uma fã apaixonadinha ou uma amiga. É sempre a Madison com o seu complexo de 'posso ter tudo o que quero'."

A sala de estar fica em silêncio.

"Sei que é arriscado e que podemos ser cancelados por coisas estúpidas, mas é desconfortável e pensei que você, mais do que ninguém, entenderia. É a nossa relação."

Quase parece que você o agrediu, atirando-lhe à cara uma recordação tão dolorosa. Ele era a pessoa que mais entendia. Você sabia disso. Foi ele quem suportou todo o drama com seu colega de elenco quando a mídia, de fato, transformou aquilo em algo que não existia. Havia sido ele quem teria aguentado todos os rumores de traição que Dispatch poderia soltar sobre vocês nessa época. Foi ele quem aceitou o término que você propôs com a desculpa de que seria melhor para ele e a imagem do grupo em que estava inserido.

Foi ele que te telefonou quando vocês terminaram, deitado na sua cama, todas as noites, à espera que estivesse pronta para falar. Ele sabe disso e você sabe disso.

"Eu entendo, bê, mas é de Madison que estamos falando. Quanto mais deixar isso mexer contigo, mais vai mexer contigo. Além disso, pelo menos, eu e ela não nos vemos o tempo todo", diz ele, tentando parecer mais calmo do que irritado.

Você nunca foi a primeira a quebrar, Johnny tinha sido sempre o primeiro a pedir desculpas quando ele tinha sido a causa de uma de suas brigas. Mas era visível que isso estava em outro nível. Você estava a ser irracional.

"Tá tentando me dizer alguma coisa?", disse séria.

Ele sabe que você está magoada.

"Não, só estou dizendo para não deixar que o ciúme se meta no meio de nós outra vez", ele diz desesperado.

"Não é ciúme, John, é literalmente o mínimo que estou a pedir. Se fosse eu no seu lugar, não ia querer o mesmo?", você suspira, de repente não está zangada com ele, está zangada com consigo.

Zangada porque sabe que está a ser injusta com o namorado.

"Ah, mas eu quis. Eu quis e você não fez nem isso", ele deixa escapar, zangado. A voz está a tremer.

Um murro tê-la-ia magoado menos, pensa.

"Isso é diferente, amor. Ele é meu amigo. Um amigo do trabalho, não um ex com quem você sabe que eu tenho um passado", ela nem sequer hesita em dizer. "E ele certamente não estava se jogando em cima de mim."

Você aproveitou a oportunidade para se aconchegar no conforto do sofá, abraçando uma almofada. "Estou pedindo algo tão difícil assim? Apenas diga a ela para parar. É quase como se você gostasse."

É claro que é mentira, ele adora o chão que você pisa. Mas mesmo assim, a mágoa e a confusão toldam-lhe a mente.

"Cuidado", ele avisa mas você o corta.

"Não, John. Você nunca te impõe neste aspecto. Só coloca lenha na fogueira, sabe que é verdade. Só faz alguma coisa ou admite que está errado quando percebe que estragou tudo. E não devia ser assim tão difícil, honestamente, se quer saber a verdade é que estou cansada. Se isto vai ser sempre um obstáculo na nossa relação, não consigo. Não consigo fazer isto".

"Você tá sendo injusta", o rapaz Suh aponta com a voz a estalar no meio do assunto.

"Quer saber? Antes eu estava! Me senti tão mal por estar zangada com o meu namorado quando na realidade o problema era ela. Doeu um pouco quando não fizeste nada, mas quando veio ficar comigo, eu sabia que estava lá para me confortar, mas agora, vendo como você se recusa a admitir que devia ter feito alguma coisa, faz-me questionar isso. Tem noção de como foi embaraçoso para mim ficar vendo aquilo? Precisar que os meus amigos me assegurem de que provavelmente não era nada? Ou as pessoas olhando para os dois de forma curiosa por causa disso?"

Você chora, mas não consegue evitar o que sai da sua boca.

"E o que é que você quer que eu faça? Eu fui àquela festa idiota por sua causa, não preciso de ir cuspir o meu amor e carinho por ti na cara de toda a gente, porque eles conseguem ver isso claramente! Se ela não consegue ver isso é porque não nos respeita e se não nos respeita então não vou perder a merda do meu tempo com ela".

"Não te estou te pedindo pra fazer cena, apenas para falar com ela. Você a conhece como disse, é muito simples."

"Por Deus, será que você consegue confiar em mim por um instante? Pare de ser tão insegura! Eu tô com você, não tô?", ele fecha a boca instantaneamente, arrependido de tudo, e você fica calada do outro lado da sala. "Amor, eu…"

"Vai se ferrar, John."

Os dois estavam a segundos de chorar, odiando-se pelas palavras que tinham dito.

"Escapou, bê, desculpa. Não sei o que me passou pela cabeça, foi uma merda. Eu sinto muito", ele disse, aproximando-se do seu rosto ofendido.

Doeu quando deu um passo atrás.

Ele sabia que aquilo tinha feito explodir um fósforo dentro de você, todas as memórias de brigas passadas retornando. Mesmo que soubesse que não tinham acabado, sabia que talvez fosse uma hipótese. Quiçá, vocês não fossem almas gêmeas, afinal.

━━━ ⟡ JULHO, 2021.

"Bebê?", uma voz faz você olhar por cima do ombro, onde Johnny Suh te olha sonolento. Ele brilha ao luar, desgrenhado e com os boxers de Stormtroppers que vestiu nesse dia. Ao estender a mão, você sente John envolver os seus braços à volta dos seus ombros, deixando beijos molhados no seu maxilar e pescoço, e você suspira, sentindo borboletas por todo o lado.

"O que tá fazendo acordada?", ele pergunta, olhando por cima do seu ombro para o livro de canções. John lê a primeira letra e franze o sobrolho, sentando-se, partilhando os dois a mesma cadeira.

"We were crazy to think, crazy to think that this could work."

"Sobre o que tá escrevendo?", Johnny te olha e te transfere para seu colo, sentando-se desta vez confortável na cadeira inteira, um beijo no seu ombro.

"Tava escrevendo uma canção sobre o que aconteceu em Fevereiro", ela diz, fechando os olhos.

Era uma ferida fechada, já não doía, mas ainda os deixava desconfortáveis de vez em quando. Envolvendo os braços à volta dos ombros dele, inclina-se e beija-o por um breve momento.

"Vai escrever uma canção sobre isso?", ele sussurra, com os olhos fechados assim como os seus. Suh trata de deixar beijos em você como forma de distração. Assim, você o abraça com mais força e cantarola ao som do canto dos pássaros à janela. Já era de manhã.

"Não uma canção inteira", sussurra de volta, acariciando-lhe o cabelo curto. Seu namorado te olha, acenando com a cabeça para que continue. "Eu queria mostrar os altos e baixos de uma relação. Não é necessariamente uma canção de separação, é mais a normalidade de coisas como são quando se está apaixonado. Ainda nem sequer está terminada", explicou sorrindo e corando como uma criança só para ele.

"Eu sei, mas agora vamos escrever sobre os altos, está bem? Ele diz deixando beijos na pele exposta dela, enquanto ela se ri quando os beijos lhe fazem cócegas. Era como se estivéssemos juntos numa bolha que ninguém conseguia rebentar.

"Vai me ajudar?"

Ele cantarola enquanto sorri. "Alguma ideia?"

"Não muitas", você responde, deslizando as mãos pelas costas dele. Ele te olha de novo, duvidoso. "Tô falando sério. Pra ser justa, só tenho o conceito."

"Me conta", Johnny pede.

A verdade é que você tem estado a pensar nesta canção há já algum tempo, em como as coisas acabariam por se tornar. A ideia original era ser uma canção de término, como as suas antigas canções em "Haunted", mas ao vasculhar o seu cancioneiro encontrou letras antigas de 2018. Como ela parecia apaixonada na altura, não mais do que nos dias de hoje, mas tão apaixonada pela ideia de um romance.

Os versos de "L-O-V-E" cheios de doçura e inocência, acabou reparando como tudo parecia quase milagroso.

Como se não houvesse nada mais puro para ser fiel do que o seu amor por Johnny. A ideia de um romance tão forte que é a única coisa em que se acredita é tão atrativa para o álbum, que o tornavam um álbum tão pessoal. Os seus sentimentos por ele também eram, pensava. Era a sua religião, afinal de contas. Uma conduta que seguiria em qualquer lado. As noites que passaram juntos a perpetuar isso, tudo lhe trouxe um sorriso ao rosto.

"Na verdade, eu tenho uma ideia", diz enquanto se baixa para escrever algo no livro.

Remexe-se em cima do colo do homem. Pela forma como a respiração de Johnny se acelera, imagina que talvez o mesmo pensamento estivesse a passar pela cabeça dele.

"We might just get away with it, the altar is my hips."

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