#just your average saturday night randomizer fun
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SCARLET ROT
warning: very loud
#just your average saturday night randomizer fun#oops all malenia’s is pure chaos as you can probably imagine#my poor pc#elden ring#my videos
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Abhi in Paris
Week 10: Parisian Adventures
Hey everyone, welcome back to Week 10 of my blog! It feels crazy to think about the fact that I've been here for 10 weeks now - oh my god, the time is flying. And funny enough, from the Scottish Highlands to the Volcanos of the Canary Islands, one of the few things I haven't done so much is explore Paris. It's a massive city with so much to explore, and although I feel I've seen other parts of Europe really well, I know that Paris has so much more to offer. So, this week I'm going on Paris adventures - from learning more about the bakery scene to trying out new bars and meeting new people. So here we go...
Monday, March 18th - Monday began as a usual start to the week. I got a morning cycling class in before making my way to ENSEA in Cergy, France for my afternoon classes that day. I got my first ever midterms back, and I'm proud to say I didn't fail :) I was able to come back from class and catch a few hours of TV relaxation.
Tuesday, March 19th - Tuesdays are always the worst! I have a morning class at 8am, which means I wake up at 6am to make the hour and a half commute up to school. After one class, I have a six hour break before by three hour french class. It's so tough because if I got back to Paris for the break I only have two hours there, and if I stay in ENSEA, I don't have much to do. It's always a coin toss, but today I went back to Cergy, managed to hit the gym and grab lunch, before heading back up to ENSEA for my evening French class. After a tiring day of class, I always make my way back, cook up some pasta for dinner, and then crash.
Wednesday, March 20th & Thursday, March 21st - I'm gonna gloss over these two days a little bit, because as luck would have it I caught a cold. Somehow, I recovered pretty quick, but I was out for most of Wednesday & Thursday.
Friday, March 22nd - Friday was so fun! I started the day with a French Culture class, where our new Professor, started the clas by giving us some French treats from the Brittany region of France. After that, we had an amazing discussion of French work benefits, and hoenstly, after I heard what she had to say, I have to say I was tempted to move to France permanently. Here's a quick summary of what the average university graduate in a full time rolled (called Cadre or CDI in France) gets:
35 Hour Work Week & Any Extra work above that can be claimed in the form of extra vacation time later
5 weeks paid vacation per year, 11 public holidays, bonus Mondays & Fridays off when public holidays are on Tuesday/Thursday, 16/20 week paid maternity leave & 2 week paid paternity leave, 2 week paid leave if your child is ill, 1 week paid leave if you get married, and the list goes on!
Once you get hired as Cadre, it is literally impossible to get fired unless you commit a felony - in fact the french have a phrase that goes "to put in a cupboard" because its easier to silo a bad employee into a meaningless role (cupboard) than to fire them
Incredible social security type pension benefits
Free Public Insurance that covers a lot of things including all life-threatening ailments like caner & private insurance that costs 150-200 euros a month for a family of four
This is all a super longwinded way to say that the benefits in France are incredible. Anyway, after class I managed to go to the gym and relax for a few hours. That night, I went to a warehouse party in the 19th arrondissement with some friends in ENSEA. Man do the Europeans never quit - I was there until 5am!
Saturday, March 23rd - Saturday was a late start given the events of the previous night :) After grabbing a Portugese delicacy "Pastel de Nata" with friends from ENSEA, I came back home around noon and took a fat nap. I woke up without much homework to do and spent the evening going down a weird rabbit hole of algorithmic forex trading, working on building my own trading bot. Just a really random and weird evening.
Anyway, that night the same friends from ENSEA made thier way back to Paris, where we had a few drinks and played some card games. We then explored a youthful area of Paris known as "Bastille." It was amazing meeting a bunch of exchange students like us there!
Sunday, March 24th - As you might imagine, after the last two late nights. Sunday was a recovery day. I woke up super late, managed to get to the gym, and just spent the rest of the time catching up on homework.
For me, this was a week to explore in Paris, something I haven't had much of a chance to do with all the travel across Europe. But don't worry, next week I'm back off to the races with a 6 day trip across Germany!
A plus tard,
Abhi Athreya
University of Michigan, Aerospace Engineering 2025
ENSEA in Cergy, France
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title — the things i know
pairing — soccerplayer!jisung x female reader
genres — angst, fluff, high school au, strangers to lovers au, first love au, long distance relationship, hurt and comfort, coming of age
overall warnings — underage drinking, cancer, character death, language, mentions of hickeys, fainting, mentions and descriptions of hospitals, soccer inaccuracies, lots of angst (you’ve been warned!)
word count — 14.8k
summary — jisung has never been keen on growing up, or even understanding what adulting means. at seventeen, all he knows is: he loves soccer (and he’s damn gifted at it), and girls are very pretty but also plenty scary. then he met you, his first love who turned his life upside down and made his stomach roll like the soccer balls he loved to kick around the field. but when your cancer comes back after years in remission, jisung thinks, he doesn’t really want to grow up anymore.
playlist — falling, harry styles ; your guardian angel, red jumpsuit apparatus ; my first and last, nct dream ; bye my first, nct dream ; orchid, jeremy zucker
additional — for the heartbreak hotel collab hosted by @nct-writers. my concept in the five stages of grief was “acceptance and hope.” thank you to my babes @suh-insane and @astroboy-lele for proof-reading!
The thing about knowledge is that you never know when or what you’re going to learn. There’s no way for you to predict what will be of your mind when you fall into bed that night, surrendering to the moon. In the morning, there’s no telling what knowledge your brain will choose to store away for remembrance over the course of the night, and what your brain will decide is unnecessary. What you decide not to remember is a memory you can’t even miss.
When you wake up every morning, you don’t know if you’ll go to bed having met someone who will change your life forever.
At seventeen, there are two things that Park Jisung knows. One, he loves playing soccer (and he’s damn good at it, the way his long legs carry him across the field in what seems to onlookers like seconds). Two, girls are very pretty but plenty scary as well.
The day starts out normally, like any other away game that the team plays.
He wakes up at six o’clock on the dot, and eats a large breakfast to hold him over for the game, then packs a few granola bars into his soccer bag and lets his sister know he’s leaving before he jogs the way to the park where the bus is waiting for his team. The ride is normally an hour long, so he either tucks his earbuds into his ears and tries to get in a short nap or he converses with his teammates.
Today though, the bus ride is three hours long. Crossing his hoodie-clad arms across his chest to act against the cold air of the bus, he focuses his gaze outside and watches as the town goes by.
“Yo, Jisung, check this out!”
At the sound of his name he turns his head, blinking when he sees a number of his teammates in the surrounding area nudging him closer. A few of them are leaning in towards a particular teammate, who displays a proud expression. “What’s up,” asks Jisung as he too leans forward toward his team member, curiosity slightly piqued.
Jaemin, the teammate in question, tugs the collar of his jersey down to reveal his skin. On the milky white curve of Jaemin’s collarbone, he sports a dark purple bruise, surrounded by a perimeter of yellow where the skin seems to be healing. There’s no question as to where that mark came from, and it definitely wasn’t from soccer.
“Ew, man, that looks sick!” comes from Donghyuck, along with a few comments from others, either approving or disturbed.
“Where’d that come from?”
Renjun slaps Mark on the chest, eyebrows furrowed at him. “Obviously, it was from Anne! Didn’t you see the way they were all over each other at last week’s game?” Jaemin grins, eyes going lovesick at the thought of his girlfriend.
Jisung’s expression contorts into one of disgust. “That’s disgusting, man,” he comments, nose still scrunched in distaste as he leans back into his original spot on the bus seat. Another thing he’ll never understand is why people are so desperate to grow up, as if giving hickeys and sneaking vodka into their Hydro flasks makes them somehow more adult.
He slips his earbuds into his ears, playing some light muzak to lull him to sleep with his head leaned rather uncomfortably against the cold window.
-
Jisung doesn’t think that he’s exceptionally smart; he’s gotten passing to above average grades his entire life. He’s not musically talented, nor is he particularly a smooth talker.
But hearing people call him gifted is a feeling he relishes every time.
With his long legs and strangely large and spacious lungs, soccer called the boy’s name from the time he could run. He dominated the peewee league, then the club teams until this point, at the ripe age of seventeen waiting to be scouted for college teams.
He wasn’t usually one to brag but today, he had shot the winning goal.
Everyone has their thing, the one thing that they excel at. For Picasso it was painting, for Yiruma it was piano, for Renjun it’s spending four hours every night researching alien conspiracy theories. For Jisung, it’s soccer. But he’s never been exceptionally good at speaking to people.
“What’s your name?” He hears a voice, cheery and upbeat, behind him as he’s grabbing his bag on the side of the field. The game is over, and the crowd begins to dissipate while the team members are gathering their things to return to the bus. Turning over his shoulder he sees you, wearing a bright smile. Cautiously he responds, “Jisung Park.”
“Oh, so you’re Korean then. I’m gonna write that down, okay? How long have you been playing soccer?” You ask next, and now Jisung’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.
“Write what down?” He asks, trying to keep his tone as polite as possible. Even so, how is he supposed to react to a random person at a game suddenly appearing to ask him questions? As he wipes his forehead with his towel he adds, “Who even are you?”
Quickly you say, “I write in the high school newspaper, and wanted to get a close-up of today’s star.” It’s then that Jisung realizes the camera slung around your neck and the notepad in your hands.
“Why are you writing about me? I don’t even go here.”
“Because,” you say, a slight sigh creeping into your voice now. “Our team sucked today. You straight up stole the show, and no one wants to read about a team that lost. I’d rather give them a peek at the star.”
“14!” His coach yells his number once, causing Jisung to look over his shoulder to the source of the voice, where his teammates are already beginning to pile onto the bus. The boy in question slings his bag over his shoulder and tucks his soccer ball under his right arm before finally getting a good look at you. “Shouldn’t you be writing something to raise your team’s spirit or something? Giving them support, maybe?”
You shrug. “I don’t like underdogs. Don’t like writing about them. I’d rather read about the heroes. So how long have you been playing soccer again?”
“Jisung!” Now it’s Chenle calling after him, and he really needs to go. Eyes flickering to the street where his teammates are gesturing for him to hurry, he looks back to you. Your eyebrow is raised expectantly, right hip popped out as you wait. Before he starts to run off, he manages a small, “I’ve been playing eleven years. Um… bye.”
Then he turns away and his long legs carry him to the bus a few meters away. Even so, behind him he can hear your loud, proud voice yelling after him with the name of your high school: “Check the online newspaper! You’ll see my article!”
What a weirdo, he can’t help but think as the team cheers for their star player getting on the bus back home.
-
A week later, it’s another Saturday night following a victorious win against another team in the local area when Jisung gets a call from Chenle. “What’s up,” he asks immediately, leaning back in his desk chair to throw his soccer ball up in the air and catch it with one hand.
“Wanna party tonight? Celebrate our win a bit?”
“Where?” asks Jisung. He’d never been big on parties. For one, his long legs that were great for running weren’t exactly skilled in dancing or anything of the like. Secondly, he’d definitely be expected to talk to girls and he’s not really in the mood to make a fool of himself.
“Taeyong’s house. Me, Mark, Hyuck, and Jaemin are going. Renjun’s busy, and Jeno wants to spend time with his cat. What do you say? Wanna join?”
Jisung sighs. He was honestly just exhausted. “Think I’ll pass. My sister’s been getting on me about my bio grade.”
Chenle groans on the other line. “Lame.”
“Next time, promise,” says Jisung.
“Fine. Have fun studying, looooser!” This is the last thing Chenle says before hanging up, leaving his best friend alone to shake his head with a small laugh. Then he remembers something, some words that a stranger had yelled out to him a week before.
Sitting up at his desk, Jisung opens his laptop and types in the name of your high school, along with your town. A few clicks around the website finds him at the online news section, plus a scroll or two past some questionable articles, there it is: a picture of him mid-kick, the winning one if he remembers well enough. His nose is scrunched in concentration and strands of dark hair cling to his forehead.
Soccer Superstar from the opposing team steals the show and the win!
A small scoff leaves Jisung’s lips, trying to humble himself as he reads over the first few paragraphs.
Our school’s boys soccer team faced a devastating loss on Saturday in the face of the opposing team’s ace player (pictured above). The game ended promptly when the superstar player confidently kicked in the final shot, though the result had been clear from the first half of the game.
A short interview with the hotshot player revealed that he has been playing soccer for eleven years! A senior from Neo Culture Prep, it is clear as day that the school is very lucky to have such a prodigy on the team.
Who is this superstar player, you ask?
His name is Jisung Park.
Geez, Jisung thinks. He knew he was good but not that good. The article did a good job of spicing him up, making him look like he was a lot better than he really was. There’s too much fluff; sure, he’s skilled and he knows it, but—he touches his cheeks. They’re warm—the article makes him sound like a soccer god, and it’s beyond embarrassing. Who even are you?
A scroll to the bottom of the page tells him all he needs to know.
Article written by: (Name) (Last Name).
-
He doesn’t return to your town for almost two months. There’s a tournament today, the hours lurching between games giving him more than enough time to psych himself out about how he’ll play.
It’s noon, the sun shining overhead causing a sheet of sweat to amass on Jisung’s forehead. His team has just won their second match of the day, and in waiting for their next game, his eyes are scanning the bleachers set up for observers on the side of the field. It’s not hard to find you, same camera hanging around your neck.
With his long legs, he jogs over to you towel in hand. You’re not at all focused on him, eyes pressed into the camera’s viewfinder as you attempt to capture a good shot of the current game.
“I don’t like the stuff you said about me in your article.”
His deep voice suddenly intrudes your thoughts, and you jump in your place. As you turn to him and drop your camera from your face, he catches sight of the way your eyes widen at his appearance. A flood of recognition replaces the shock before you tilt your head. “Why? It was all good stuff.”
Patting at his forehead with his towel, Jisung responds, “Yeah, exactly. I’m not that good. I could’ve played better that day.” This brings a small snort from you. “Really! They were narrowing the angle on me, I should have flanked or lofted.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
“It’s—”
You cut him off before he can explain. “You’re good. Why are you so shy to accept that?”
“Why do you keep trying to paint me as the main character of the team? Everyone works hard together.” He questions, eyebrows furrowed.
“Because you are,” you respond matter-of-factly, focused enough to press your eye into the viewfinder again. A few seconds pass, and Jisung recognizes the click of the camera as you capture something on the field. “You’re clearly the best player on the team by a long shot. You’re the main character, the hero.”
At your response, Jisung shakes his head in disbelief and scrunches his nose. There’s really no getting through to you. “I’m more than the hero you think I am.”
You turn to him, facial features contorted into a mischievous expression. “I’m sure you are.” Jisung realizes then that you’re holding something out to him. Taking it, he observes it. A… business card? With your name and number on it. “(Name). Aspiring journalist.”
“You have a business card? Aren’t you like, seventeen?”
You shrug, smile tugging on your lips. “Never hurts to be prepared. Call me.” It’s the last thing you say before you flitter away on quick feet, leaving to interview the team which has just won their match. He watches you leave, wondering if you know what kind of effect you have on people.
-
“I don’t know, man. She seems kinda crazy,” says Hyuck from the seat next to him, leaning his head back. However, a sudden bump in the road causes the bus to jump, startling the boy a bit. Jisung had just shared his thoughts about asking you out with his friend, who immediately made a face and shook his head.
“Crazy?” Sure, you’re a bit forward and maybe slightly reckless, but he doesn’t think you’re… crazy. It’s been a few weeks since he last saw you and from the conversations you’ve shared over text and phone… he thinks he likes you. Like, really likes you. It’s goddamn terrifying.
“Yeah, we all saw her article,” Chenle speaks up from the seat behind him. “She’s obsessed with you.”
Jisung rolls her eyes. “It was one article. That doesn’t mean she’s obsessed.”
“I think you should do it. It’d be funny to get on camera in case you fail,” snorts Renjun.
Jaemin pipes in from in front of them. “But if you do ask her out, she lives three hours away. That’s a lot of distance.” He’s the only one in a relationship, so maybe he has the only opinion that Jisung trusts.
“Other people have done more distance.”
Now, it’s Jeno’s turn to pipe in. “But you’re not other people, you’re Jisung Park. You’ve never had a girlfriend.” Should he feel insulted? Chenle also adds, “Jeno’s right. You’re a senior! It’s your year, and you wanna spend it tied down to some girl who lives three hours away?”
But you’re not just some girl. Mark’s the only one who hasn’t spoken, and most of the time, he’s the most level headed. Jisung turns to him with a sincere expression and asks, “What do you think?”
Though he had been trying to stay quiet throughout the conversation, he stretches a bit in his seat before finally saying, “I think you should go for it.”
“I think you should too!” Jaemin says. “But I think you should be prepared for what it means.”
“Whatever you decide to do, we’ll hype you up.”
“I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?” Jisung asks. “If she rejects me, at least she’s three hours away, right?” There’s murmurs of agreement around the seven of them. He tries to sound relaxed, but the thought of asking a girl out for the first time causes his heart to thump loudly in his chest. Oh god… should he do it?
“So?” asks Hyuck after a few seconds of silence, and it’s then that Jisung realizes everyone’s looking at him. “Are you gonna do it?”
He gulps. “... No idea.”
A collective groan emerges from the group of boys. Hyuck, ever the genius, straightens his back with a glint in his eye. “How about this? If we win, you ask her out. You’ll be riding on a winning spree and it’ll give you confidence. If we lose then… there’s more girls back home.”
That… doesn’t sound like a bad idea. But oh god, he doesn’t know which option he wants.
-
For the first time, Jisung feels like his legs are knotting into each other, tumbling over his feet.
Soccer had always come easily to him, like breathing. But for some unknown reason, he’s totally off his game today. He knows the play, his strengths, and even the weaknesses of his opponents, but he trips over his feet.
No, that’s a lie. He definitely does know the source of his nervousness, and it lives in the form of a girl with a camera and a notepad sitting in the bottom corner bleacher. His breath is frantic as he zips back and forth across the field. The sounds of the game are ringing loud in his ear, and he can hardly even focus on the black and white ball being kicked around, let alone what the coach is screaming at them. They’re so close, one more goal should do it.
He knows what’s going to happen. Jisung Park had always been known for his ending kicks.
But what if he messes it up? What if he fumbles the kick or whiffs it?
Then again, does he even want to win? That’s a dumb quesiton—of course he does—but the question is: is he ready for what comes with the win? He really shouldn’t look, shouldn’t peek for just one look at you, but he does. You’re scribbling in your notepad, and he swears in that millisecond that you look so pretty.
Yeah, he wants it. He really wants it.
He’s ready, and—oh god, Sungchan is passing the ball to him. Suddenly Jisung is on high alert, winding up toward the goal. He captures Sungchan’s ball with ease, no longer tripping over himself as he makes his way to the end goal.
One kick, just nail this one kick.
He winds up, turning his body to the correct angle; he kicks it and…
Please go in, please go in, he’s begging.
The ball flies in straight past the goalkeeper, who jumps toward it but there’s no use. It all happens so quickly, and suddenly his team erupts into celebration when the referee blows his whistle. Still standing there, Jisung catches his breath and stares into the goal.
He won.
That means… He glances at you. You’re wearing a huge smile on your face, and without noticing it himself, Jisung has his own proud smile on his. His momentary peace is interrupted by his friends running toward him, nearly knocking him over in their celebration.
“Yeeahhh, Jisung Park, you’re the man!”
A few minutes later, Jisung tries to calm his nerves after thanking the opposing team for a good game. When he returns to the sidelines where his stuff is, he can barely get some water down his throat before Chenle is pushing a soccer ball into his hand. “Good luck, dude,” he says, and Jisung can feel the others’ eyes on him. Oh no, it’s time.
He steals a glance at you, and—Oh. You’re looking at him too. A bashful smile spreads over your lips and you turn away, focusing back to your conversation with your friend. His heart is beating so loud, but Jisung doesn’t think it’s because of the soccer game. Turning back to his friends, he groans, “I need a pep talk.”
“Okay, uh,” Mark attempts. “You got this, you know you’re the man. Um… if she rejects you, then it’s okay, there’s other fish in the sea!” A groan erupts through the group. “That’s not a pep talk, Mark!”
“Listen,” says Chenle suddenly, grabbing Jisung’s shoulders to stare at him. “She’s not gonna reject you. You’re Jisung freaking Park! The star of the team and my best friend! Go get ‘em, and don’t take no for an answer!” With this, he gives Jisung a small push in the girl’s direction.
“Actually, uh—I think no means no,” pipes in Jisung but everyone cuts him off with a collective, “JUST GO!”
Pink spreads across his cheeks as he slowly walks in your direction. At a good distance away, he places the coveted soccer ball down on the ground and winds himself up for a kick. Okay, he just shot the winning goal of the game. If he can do that, he can do this. Running forward the slightest, Jisung gives himself a silent pep talk as his foot taps the ball. It goes moving from its spot, flying through the air… and that’s when Jisung realizes his mistake. Instead of gently tapping against your ankle like he had planned, the ball flies straight in the air, knocking the side of your head rather harshly.
“Not that hard, genius!” Chenle chastises from behind him, and Jisung has to hold back the desire to actually groan in that moment. He immediately runs toward you, hands out in surprise. “Oh my god, oh my god, I’m so sorry,” he repeats, reaching out for you. You’re rubbing the spot on the side of your head where the ball had hit, and he wants to disappear right there.
He never should have done this.
Why was he born again?
“I’m so sorry,” he says again for the nth time, feeling shame and humiliation speed up his spine at the way you wince when you touch the side of your head. “Oh my god, go get me an ice pack,” he demands over his shoulder at his friends.
“No, no I’m okay,” you reassure everyone. Now all the eyes are on the two of you.
A few moments of silence pass as you eye the soccer ball which has rolled some distance away, crouching down to pick it up. Ball in hand, you scan the outside of it… and destroying all of Jisung’s hopes and expectations, you burst into laughter.
You laugh so hard, the boisterous sounds leaving your lips so vehemently that you have to cover your mouth with your hand. Jisung furrows his eyebrows. “I just kicked you in the head and you’re laughing?” Oh god, he must have done more damage than he thought. You don’t answer, the only sounds leaving you are giggles and guffaws. It’s only making him feel worse; geez, he wishes he wasn’t so tall so he could positively disappear right now.
You finally look up at him and meet his gaze, your own eyes crinkled in delight. Flipping the ball over in your hands, you present to him the ball. Written on one of the large white spots reads a firm, “Go out with me?” in black marker.
“This is why you kicked me in the head?” You ask, still chuckling the slightest. Bashfully, Jisung nods. You laugh again. Every time you do that, he feels like getting smaller and smaller. “Of course I’ll go out with you.”
Wait, really?
He says these words aloud, eyes wide at your ease. He hadn’t expected you to actually say yes! “Sure,” you respond with a smile. “Though I could’ve gone without the head injury.”
This brings a laugh from the both of you. He really had been worrying so much about nothing. His frame instantly relaxes, taking the ball back from you. “You sure you don’t need the ice pack?”
“No, I could definitely use an ice pack.”
-
The first date happens two weeks after that game, and it’s his first real date so he has no idea how to act. Everything goes fine—he takes you to the local arcade in your town, and though he’d deny it to the ends of the earth, you beat him in foosball.
“Ha!” You had screamed. “Superstar soccer player Jisung Park, and you can’t beat me in table soccer?” His cheeks had burned pink at the sound of your voice reverberating around the public arcade, but honestly the mirth in your eyes was worth it.
His cheeks are red but the air is cold on the walk home to your house. He had promised to have you home by nine, and it’s—he checks the time on his phone—8:45.
A look at you, holding the giant stuffed teddy bear that you had won (he hadn’t won it for you, because lord knows he’s horrible at skee-ball), and Jisung can see the air leaving your lips. “Hey, you cold?”
“Nah,” you shake your head, though you scoot closer to him on the sidewalk. His tongue laves over his bottom lip quickly, and he almost wants to hold your hand. But that wouldn’t do much to keep you warm.
He purses his lips, then immediately his hands are working at taking off his hoodie. That’s a cute thing, isn’t it? Boyfriends giving hoodies to their girlfriends? “Here, take this.”
When you take one look at the hoodie in his hands and roll your eyes, Jisung knows he’s in for it. “Seriously? You can’t fool me with some cheesy rom-com moves,” you laugh.
Ouch.
That hurt his pride. He was just trying to be nice, maybe a tad bit romantic, but you clearly weren’t having it. He should have known you would be so tsundere, and maybe he does.
He knows you act strong, like there is no way on the face of the earth that you would ever swoon for his lame attempts at flirting. But when you reach upward on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek before you step into your house, he knows you like it just as much as he does.
-
For the longest time, it’s been just him and his sister Naeun.
His parents passed away shortly after his birth, so they stayed under the custody of their aunt. When his sister became an adult, she became his legal guardian. Since then, it’s been the two of them against the world.
Though kids had sometimes made fun of him for not having a mom or a dad, Jisung never paid those kids much attention. Sure, he didn’t have a dad to teach him how to drive or a mom to attend his parent-teacher conferences, but he had his sister and she was all he’d never need. Naeun gave up everything for him: she didn’t go to college, she traded nights out with her friends to help him with her math homework, she worked two jobs so he could play soccer. She had worked so hard, perhaps sheltered Jisung so much that he had always lived a comfortable life.
It never occurs to him just how much she had struggled until the morning she asks him to get a job.
She sits across the dining table at breakfast, and over his cereal, Jisung notes how shaken and guilty she looks. There must be something on her mind, but that’s how his sister’s always been; she doesn’t like to worry him, and speaks up when she’s ready. When she finally tells him, he blinks, confused.
“I can’t pay the bills alone. Not with soccer getting more expensive, and the landlord raising the rent—that bastard,” she mumbles under her breath, surprising Jisung. She hardly cursed. “It’s… It’ll just be for a short time. I promise.” She has tears in her eyes. Jisung furrows his eyebrows; she must feel guiltier about this than he thought. Immediately he nods in understanding. “It’s fine, Noona. Don’t worry about it. I’ll, uh, go out looking this weekend.”
He takes another spoonful of cereal into his mouth, thinking that the conversation will end there. But it doesn’t, his sister’s quiet voice reaching his ears. “Promise me you’ll go to college, Sung. Promise me you’ll make it. Make it all worth it.”
And it’s in that moment, in the way that his sister’s voice is on the edge of breaking, that it occurs to him just how much his sister has sacrificed for him. How quickly she had to grow up, having become his parent at eighteen, just a few months away from how old he was now. And he was nowhere near as responsible as her.
He swears in that moment that he’ll uphold his promise. He’ll get a scholarship, he’ll help his sister out. He’ll pay back everything she’s given up for him.
-
Finally, today you’re in town.
It’s the first time you’ve come to visit him in his town, and he’s so excited to show you everything: his school, his favorite ice cream place on the corner of the street from his apartment building, and even the park he grew up kicking soccer balls at. Even after all these years, him and his friends still came here to practice their soccer technique.
Today, the two of you are sitting underneath a tree at said park, his head in your lap. You’re running your hands through his dark hair, and wow, he’d never admit that it feels so good.
There’s a small laugh heard from you as you comb through his locks. “You should dye your hair.”
“Suddenly?” He asks. “I don’t even know what color I’d dye it.”
“You should do like, a blue or something. Oh, purple! Purple would be nice!” Your excitement causes him to roll his eyes promptly, sitting up. “I’ll dye my hair purple if you dye your hair purple,” he retorts to you.
“Maybe I will,” you say, standing onto your feet now that he’s gotten off of you. Wiping the grass from your legs briefly, you nod toward his soccer ball a few feet away. “C’mon, let’s play.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You wanna play soccer.”
“Yeah, is that so surprising?”
“Um, yeah, a little bit considering the fact that you said it’s boring and that you complain having to get up to go to the fridge at two in the morning,” quips Jisung with a laugh. You only roll your eyes in response. “I never said soccer was boring, I just said it’s only interesting when you play. And you’re gonna teach me right now, so stand up,” you say, extending a hand to him.
He takes your hand, rising to his feet before picking up the ball. “Fine,” he relents, a smirk making its way onto his face. “Try to keep up.”
For fifteen minutes, the two of you race up and down the park’s open grass field, chasing the ball in every direction. He evades you, long legs carrying him and the ball while you chase after him.
“Wait,” you say mid-sprint, slowing to a stop. Your chest is heaving, and slowly Jisung stops his running also. “You good?” He asks from a few feet away.
“Yeah,” you say breathlessly, reaching a hand up to wipe at your forehead. “Just… gimme a sec.” A minute passes of you catching your breath, but Jisung doesn’t pay it much attention—a person who didn’t play soccer and have trained lungs like him would struggle.
“Okay, okay,” you finally say, shaking your head a bit. “Let’s go again.”
“Are you sure?” He asks, worry seeping into his tone.
“Yeah, yes! Just—just go.”
So he does, beginning to kick the ball down field as he chases after it, stopping past center field to pass the ball to you. You’re racing after him, and though the ball is coming your way, you trip over it, falling straight onto the floor.
Your head hangs low, and he immediately rushes over to you.
“Hey, hey! You okay?” He asks, kneeling down but your eyes are closed. He swipes a hand over your forehead, and it’s that moment when he realizes your eyes are closed. Did you pass out? Had he pushed you too far? “(Name)?”
No response. Oh god, what is he supposed to do?
Is he supposed to check if you’re breathing? Where can he check for a pulse again? In his moment of inadequacy, he pulls out his phone and calls his sister.
She’ll know what to do, but it pains him that he doesn’t.
His sister arrives quickly, and immediately takes you to the hospital. According to her, you do have a pulse and you probably just had heat exhaustion. He sure hopes so…
For a few hours he sits in the waiting room as he awaits the arrival of your parents. They rushed over from your town, four hours away, and this definitely was not the impression he wanted to have on them. Head in his hands, he can’t help but worry about you.
You do wake up, eventually but he can’t see you until your parents arrive.
They take you back home. You’re walking and talking again, but as you shoot him a weak smile from over your shoulder, walking down the hall and out of the hospital, Jisung can’t help but feel that something has gone terribly wrong.
-
He swears he’s never been so tired.
Working at McDonald’s isn’t horrible, per se, it’s just different. But it definitely takes more out of him than soccer ever did. The second he walks into his room Jisung drops his backpack on the bean bag next to the door and almost collapses on his bed. Throwing his work cap on the floor, he runs a hand through his hair and pulls out his phone.
The best thing about coming home from work, is coming home to you.
He immediately fishes for his phone from his pocket and opens it to speed dial. Pressing on your contact, Jisung presses the phone to his ear and waits for his girlfriend’s voice on the other end. The line picks up.
“Hey,” he says, a smile spreading over his lips without him even knowing.
“Hi…”
Something’s wrong. Your voice is missing its signature excitement, the snarkiness he had grown accustomed to. He sits up in bed, eyebrows furrowed. “Is everything okay?”
Yes, you’re supposed to say. Everything’s fine. Everything’s just peachy.
But you don’t. “I got a call from the hospital.”
After you had fainted the other day playing soccer with him, the hospital had run a few tests to make sure you were okay. He knew this, you both did. They were supposed to say that you had been dehydrated, that you hadn’t eaten in a few hours. “I haven’t been completely honest with you, Jisung…”
“What, what is it?”
There’s a momentary silence on the other side, then a shaky breath. “When I was ten… I got really sick. I was always having nosebleeds, always tired—some days I didn’t even want to get out of bed. They took me to the doctor and they told me that… I had leukemia.”
Jisung releases a heavy breath, staring into his sheets. No… don’t say it.
“I fought it for two years, and I beat it. God, it was… it was really hard, and I got through it. It’s been five years now but—but the hospital called and…” Please, no. “My cancer came back.”
Jisung’s never felt this way before; like all the air in his lungs have been pulled from his chest, lost to the universe. Not even when he sprinted across the soccer field, not even when he had gotten punched in the chest. All those times, his chest burned with fire, be it anger or passion. But now… his chest feels empty and hollow and numb. He manages to spit out a few words.
It’s not supposed to be like this. You’re supposed to be okay, you’re supposed to go to prom together. Graduate. He’s supposed to get a soccer scholarship, you’re supposed to study journalism at the same school, and the long distance would cease to exist. You were supposed to be happy. “But it’s gonna be okay, right? You’ve fought it before, you can do it again.” Perhaps it was a bit selfish of him to ask for consolation when you were the one with the illness. But you were a journalist, never a liar. Your voice is weak, like you’ve already given up.
“I don’t know.”
-
“What’s up with you?” Chenle’s voice is almost worried, but Jisung wouldn’t be able to tell because his eyes are focused on the ground. He’s been kicking a soccer ball around with Chenle and Mark for a while now, but there’s clearly something very off about the teenager today.
“Yeah, is something wrong?” Mark asks.
Jisung blows some air into his cheeks. Should he tell them? It’s your private information but technically, you’re his girlfriend right? The news has been troubling him for a few days now, and he’s had no one to talk to. Surely, he can’t talk to his sister about it.
He should just spit it out. “(Name) has cancer.”
It’s like the world stops, his friends taking in his words. “W-What? What did you just say?” Chenle speaks first, then Mark quickly follows. “Did you say (Name) has cancer?”
Keeping his gaze on the ground, Jisung nods and gives the ball a small kick in Mark’s direction. “Yeah. She had leukemia when she was younger, and… the other day she went to the hospital and they said that it came back. Her cancer came back.” When he looks up, both his friends are looking at him with genuine concern etched across their faces.
“Seriously? Cancer? And you’re still dating her?” Mark asks, causing Jisung to raise an eyebrow in confusion. Did he just insinuate what he thinks he did?
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Chenle speaks up next, trying to defuse the sudden tension. “Jisung, you guys have only been dating like, a couple months. It was just like yesterday that you kicked her in the head asking her out!”
“And?” Jisung asks pointedly. Suddenly he’s in front of Chenle, and though he technically towers over the latter in height, Chenle’s chest is straight as he makes his point.
“Is it really worth it to stay on a sinking ship?”
Jisung’s voice reaches a new level of low, erupting from a place deep inside of him that he’s hidden away. It’s a place of rage, of anger sizzling and bubbling in his stomach. Suddenly they’re both chest to chest, unwilling to back down. “Now, I know you’re not talking about my girlfriend.”
“Hey, hey, hey!” Mark interrupts, hands coming between them to tear the two boys apart. “Calm down. Both of you.”
“He started it,” accuses Jisung quickly, dark eyebrows furrowed in frustration. “My girlfriend is not a sinking ship. Neither is my relationship, and I don’t need you to comment on it.” He looks to Mark for guidance. Mark had always been the most logical one, the one he would look to for help, and though he thinks that Mark will agree with him, he almost looks guilty.
“But it’s true, Jisung. We’re worried about you. She’s just a girl. Is she really worth hurting yourself over?” He had trusted Mark to be on his side, but now Jisung just releases a scoff. He had been hoping for his friends’ support, but it seems like he’ll be going through this alone, then.
-
You’ve been avoiding him.
Of course, there’s not much that can be done to avoid him when you live hours away from each other. But you haven’t been responding to his texts, and when you do, they’re mostly short and taut. You’ve been cutting your phone calls short, often saying that you’re tired. Maybe you really are, but it hurts hearing the line cut off, not knowing how you’re really feeling.
Jisung can’t help but feel like he’s failing. He should be doing better.
It’s like your relationship is an hourglass, running out of time with every day that he spends going to school, work, or soccer practice. Like you’re getting further and further away with each short text message.
His entire life has been spent running. Speeding forward center field like a lightning bolt, long legs carrying him far ahead everyone else. But for the first time, Jisung feels like he’s falling behind.
-
It only takes a three hour bus ride (four, with the added stops) but in Jisung’s mind, it’s all worth it. It won’t be the first time he’s gone over to your house, but it is indeed the first he’s ever showed up unannounced, which is a strange appearance given that he lives three hours away. But with everything happening, he’s willing to give up the day and six hours worth of travel for you.
Sitting on the bus, he pulls out his phone. It’s early, like nine in the morning, but he knows you have a doctor’s appointment in a few hours so you’re definitely awake. He presses the facetime button, but you quickly reject his call. His eyebrows furrow, but lighten with an incoming text from you.
[ message from : (Name) ♡ ] : jisung, i’m using the bathroom rn. call you back in a bit.
He nearly rolls his eyes, but it’s a sweet one. You’re always so candid.
[ message to : (Name) ♡ ] : you act like you’ve never facetimed me on the toilet before.
[ message from : (Name) ♡ ] : wow, call me out more why don’t you
[ message to : (Name) ♡ ] : pick up my call, brat ♡
[ message from : (Name) ♡ ] : no, You pick up My call :p
Seconds later, his phone is lit up with an incoming facetime screen. A laugh almost leaves him at your tenacity before accepting the call.
The call opens up to the visual of his girlfriend, you in your PJs fixing the phone up against the mirror in the bathroom. He sees himself reflected in the mini screen, hoodie on and earbuds in wearing a boyish grin. “Hey pretty girl. Make sure you wash your hands.”
You roll your eyes at his remarks. “Hey ugly boy. I’m already doing that. What are you doing?”
“Just making sure, because I don’t think you brushed your teeth after you fell asleep on call the other night,” he teases, clicking his tongue as you’re the only person he can tease so easily. “I’m on the bus to practice.” A lie, but a white one at that. “What are you up to?”
You wack your still dry toothbrush in front of the camera, nose scrunching up in the slightest. It’s a habit of his that you’ve picked up. “I’m also doing that right now.” You wet the brush, putting some toothpaste on it. “I thought you didn’t have practice this Friday? Or was that next Friday?”
Your actions bring a low laugh to his lips, and his eyes momentarily focus on the passing landscape outside the bus window as he’s now three hours out of his normal perimeter. “Uh, Coach wanted to add in a practice today. Don’t you have a doctor’s appointment today?”
You nod at his answer, toothbrush in mouth. “I do, I think it’s like, in a hour or something.”
“Oh, okay,” he replies simply as the bus comes to a stop, your house only a short walk away. He stands, gathering his bag. “Gotta go, but I’ll talk to you in a bit, pumpkin honeysuckle,” he snorts, making his way to the front of the bus.
Your brows furrow as you give him a disapproving look through the screen, shaking your head slightly before moving to rinse your mouth. “Talk to you soon, don’t get hurt at practice or I’ll fight you.”
He scoffs as he steps out of the bus, into your neighborhood. “Like you could take me. Later.” You probably could, given your determination, but he gives you a nose scrunch before ending the call. He’s only taken a few steps when his phone rings with a text message.
[ message from : (Name) ♡ ] : you and i both know i could take you :)
A snort leaves him. Classic (Name).
When he arrives a few minutes later, he hesitates at the door, only praying that the person who opens up is you, not your parents or god forbid, your brother. It only takes a few hard knocks before he hears your voice on the other side, determined to see just who the hell had the nerve to interrupt your laziness this early in the morning. “Who the fu—”
He tsk’s in distaste. He shouldn’t have been surprised that the first words to leave his girlfriend’s mouth are cuss words. “You potty mouth. I thought you’d be happy to see me,” he says, opening his arms.
Jisung’s not quite sure what he expected. For you to jump in his arms? What a delusional boy. You blink for a few seconds, then suddenly you’re throwing yourself at him, fist first to land a deserved punch to his arm. “I thought you had practice? What are you doing here and why do you look so much cuter than when I last saw you?”
“Well, I lied,” he snickers, patting your head. “I’m here to annoy you, obviously. But you look too. For a—” A person dying of cancer, but he can’t say it. He won’t. “—person who barely got up twenty minutes ago.”
Your hand immediately begins rubbing the spot that your fist landed, worried that it might actually bruise in a bit. Jisung asks, “So are you gonna invite me in, or?”
“What are you, a vampire or something? I’m pretty sure you weren’t given permission when you entered my heart so just come in and cuddle me before my appointment.”
Your response catches him off guard so he blinks before entering in silently, sticking his hands back into the loose fitting pocket of his hoodie. Even after six months, he’s still not used to you saying those kinds of things. Hell, he still gets sweaty holding your hand.
“Hey Mom! Dad!” You’re grabbing onto his arm, tugging him into the kitchen. “Jisung’s here!”
-
After a small breakfast and conversation with your parents, he’s given the permission to go with you to your doctor’s appointment. The two of you take the bus, hands interlaced as you sit, and Jisung smiles awkwardly when an elderly woman compliments the two of you, calling you a cute couple.
He’s never really been in a hospital before.
For an arduous soccer player, he’s lucky enough to never have suffered a pain great enough to warrant a visit to the hospital, nor had he ever been sickly enough to send him there. It’s for that reason that he feels slightly out of place, tucked in his hoodie whilst trying his best not to gaze at the others in the waiting room. Instead, he tries to keep his gaze focused upon his girlfriend as you remain bright despite their surroundings. Your hands intertwined, he feels a comfortable warmth seeping into his veins, gold in color and feeling. Gold like the ring on your finger, and like your heart.
He’s so lucky to have you.
“I don’t really have anything planned,” he says softly, giving your hand a slight squeeze. It’s true that your itinerary is next to nonexistent for this impromptu date, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. If anything, a hospital is a strange starting destination for a date but your relationship is a bit strange. Quietly, he says to you, voice low in the hopes that no one overhears, “Don’t hospitals scare you?”
He knows that you spent a good portion of your time here; surely you must have grown accustomed to it, but Jisung was not. Hospitals were cold… white and bleak and much too quiet.
“Nah, not really,” you answer with a shake of your head. “Except for all the souls wandering around.”
Jisung blinks. “Souls?” He gulps.
“Yup. The souls of the passing.” You click your tongue, along with a wink in his direction now that you’ve successfully managed to creep him out. Do you ever stop making jokes?
The door to the waiting room opens and a medical assistant calls your name. “Hey, I’ll be right back,” you tell him, standing and releasing his arm. He gives a hesitant nod, watching as you leave through the door and disappear down the hall.
When you emerge, some forty-five minutes later, the mirth is gone from your eyes.
He knows right away: you didn’t get good news. His heart is pumping in his chest, like he’s waiting for you to collapse right there. Years could pass, and Jisung swears he’d never be able to erase that memory of you. “Are you—” Okay, he wants to ask. But you just give him a small smile and shake your head. It’s not the time. He cuts himself short, reaching a hand out to you with a small, albeit forced, smile. “Let’s go on our date.”
-
It’s a long afternoon, spent in the arcade where you had had your first date—this time, for memory’s sake, he gets another ring from the claw machine—then McDonald’s and ice cream. He treats you to lunch, courtesy of his employee discount, and the entire day is filled with laughter and mutual teasing. Everything feels like it’s okay again.
Jisung enjoys these moments the most.
The moments where he doesn’t feel like he has to be anybody: not the star soccer player, not the kind understanding younger brother, or a kid trying to look grown up at an adult party. With him he’s just you, awkwardness and quirks altogether. You’ve never hid yourself from him, and now he doesn’t have to hide himself either.
Now that the day is touching evening, the two of you sit at a park, relaxing mindlessly on the swings next to each other. Now that the romantic buzz is gone, the two of you have fallen into a comfortable silence.
“Thanks for coming this far, Ji. This was… nice.”
A small smile spreads over his lips. “It was nothing. I wanted to do it for a long time.”
“No, really,” you say, turning to him with a thankful smile. Your eyes are serious now, and Jisung feels the sunlight seep into his skin. “I really missed you.”
He doesn’t say anything for a moment. This moment feels heavy, like he’ll remember it for years to come. “... I missed you too. A lot.” You both turn back to face the sunset, watching the sun fade behind a hill. It’s setting, streaks of gentle reds and soft-spoken oranges staining the empyrean firmament. It’s then that Jisung feels his heart begin to sink, like the sun, into the pit of his stomach.
“Are you scared?”
A moment passes without you saying anything, then you speak up beside him. “Not really. I mean, it’s just the hospital. The only thing that’ll suck is not being able to leave. I never thought I’d say it but, I’m really gonna miss going to school.”
Did you think you were never going to return? “Are your chances good?”
The implications from earlier at the hospital return. What are the chances that things aren’t looking up? “They say so,” you breath out.
That’s not good enough. Anything could happen. Jisung needs clarification, confirmation. He doesn’t want to lose you. “What if you—”
“I might.”
A beat of silence.
Jisung feels like crying. It gathers in the back of his throat. “What would I do without you?”
There it is: the implication that you’ll be gone. That one day, Jisung will have to wake up and face a world without you in it, a world with less happiness and less passion. A world where there isn’t someone who will call him ugly when really they think he’s the cutest to walk to the earth, or where there isn’t someone to make fun of him the way you do. A world with less love.
Your voice is dry as you speak.
“You’d move on.”
“I don’t know if I’d ever love anyone like you,” he finds himself saying.
“L-Love?” You suddenly say, voice the smallest he’s ever heard. You’ve always had the loudest voice, most prominent in his brain, but his words seem to have caught you off guard. “Do you? Love me?”
He doesn’t know what love feels like. He’s just a teenager, what is he supposed to know about love? About loss? Is it all-consuming, like in the movies? Is it meant to hurt? “... I think I do. I think I love you.”
There’s a sniffle next to him, and he turns immediately, alarmed that he may have made you cry. There are tears in your eyes, but they don’t fall. Being a writer, you talk too much. Your words are eloquent and true, though sometimes Jisung has a hard time getting you to stop talking. But this time, you choose to abandon words altogether, instead leaving your swing to stand in front of him. Compelled by nature, he stands too. Instead of speaking, you reach upward on your tiptoes once more. Except this time, you kiss him.
Your lips meet, and everything is golden.
And against the backdrop of the setting sun, it feels like the closing scene of Jisung’s very own romance movie. But this isn’t the end, he knows.
-
When he walks you home, he offers his sweater again.
This time not out of obligation or the desire to appear more romantic than he is, but because you’re cold. Really cold. You’re shivering, arms wrapped around yourself not giving enough warmth.
“Here,” Jisung says, already beginning to take off his hoodie, but you stop him with a hand and a pointed look, though your chattering teeth cause you to stutter. “S-Still trying to woo me with cheap rom-com tricks?”
You’re stubborn. You’re so stubborn and he hates it.
“Just take it,” he says, pushing it into your arms.
“No,” you argue. “You have a three hour ride home, it’s late and you’ll be cold.”
It’s obvious your illness has made you even more sensitive to the cold, and for that reason, Jisung’s fine facing the biting cold as long as you’re okay. “You’re freezing, please just take it.”
“Jisung, I said no.” Your voice is stern now, and he gets the feeling that he’s upset you. He gives up, gnawing on his bottom lip in deep thought. He just wants to make you feel better, doing what he thinks will help but with you, it never does. You’re so independent, too much so and much too stubborn to admit you need his help… “Fine,” he says before putting his hoodie back on. If you won’t take his warmth, then he’ll give it to you.
He lifts his arm, placing it fully around your shoulders and pulling you to him so your bodies meet. “At least let me hold you,” he mumbles. Your frame freezes in his for a moment, until you wrap your arms around the circumference of his chest.
Burying your face into his side, you relent into him. “Okay, fine.”
And later, he finds that you’re right. When he sits alone on the dimly lit train, he realizes that the warmth he had been feeling earlier, bathing in the sun’s rays with your lips, is long gone. All he feels now, is cold.
-
“You skipped practice the other day.” Jisung looks up from where he had been sitting on the bleachers, tying his shoes after practice. It had been a tough practice; he had missed quite a few passes and whiffed more than just a couple shots. He can only blame himself. He’s been distracted; alongside his worries about you, he also has a job to attend to and even more, the results for his dream school’s soccer scholarship is supposed to come out soon. His gaze falls on all six of his closest friends, looking down at him.
“Yeah, something came up,” he says easily.
“More like, someone,” retorts Donghyuck easily. “We know you ditched to go see your girlfriend.”
“And what about it?”
“I don’t know what’s happened to you, man. You never want to play ball with us anymore, you don’t want to hang out with us. Whenever you invite you to a party, you raincheck. It’s like I don’t even know you anymore,” Chenle spits out, arms crossed over his chest.
“Chenle,” says Renjun carefully.
“No,” interrupts the boy in question. Chenle looks straight at Jisung, who stands now to meet the others’ heights. “He needs to hear this. Ever since that girl came around, it’s like you’ve lost your way. You used to be all about soccer and friendship. Now you always have her on your mind, and—did you see the way you played earlier?—she’s messing you up. Your head’s not on straight.”
“Chenle, stop.” Donghyuck speaks up now, voice low as he tries to stop the younger from going off. “You’re not the same Jisung I met in peewee camp, and I don’t know if I like who I’m seeing,” Chenle finishes.
That’s enough for him. His voice comes out before he can stop it.
“You know why I never party with you anymore?” Jisung suddenly says, voice booming and clearly at his limit. “Because I’ve always hated partying. Because I have a job now, and because I don’t want my sister to stay up worrying about me while I’m getting piss drunk. I hate drinking, I hate trying to look cool while actually looking fucking stupid, because I don’t know how I can even think about partying when my girlfriend is fucking dying.”
A hearty scoff leaves his lips, as though he can’t even fathom the words he’s faced today. “You don’t even know me anymore? That’s where you’re wrong, because you never knew me. Not all of me. You only see me as the star player who’s gonna get you your win. She knows me, she knows all of me, and she doesn’t try to change me. Well, sorry that I’m not the same kid you met years ago who let everyone walk all over him. I thought you guys were my friends, but clearly you only want me around for as long as I can play.”
Those are the last fiery words to leave Jisung’s mouth before he turns on his heels, storming off the field and away from everyone else. He just needs to get out of here, away from everything before he ruins it. Mark and Hyuck follow after him, while Jeno and the rest hold Chenle back.
“Don’t listen to him,” Mark says, ever level headed. “We know what you’re going through.”
Though he appreciates their concern, Jisung spits, “No, you don’t.”
Both of them stop walking, no longer chasing after him as Jisung pulls out his phone.
A new email.
He immediately opens it, eyes glazing over the text.
Dear Jisung Park,
Thank you for applying to our university’s soccer scholarship. We reviewed every application with our utmost dedication and attention. Unfortunately, we regret to inform you that we cannot accept your application at this time. Our soccer program is one of the most competitive at this school, however we encourage you to reapp…
What a load of shit.
-
The past few weeks have been horrid.
Soccer is as tense as ever, though Jisung would be lying if he said that his fight with Chenle didn’t fuel him to work even harder during practice. His job sucks, especially after someone spilled a bucket of old oil on him (it was cold, thank goodness but still gross nonetheless). So far he’s gotten another rejection. Who knew that getting into college would be this hard?
He wishes that he could say his relationship with you is the saving grace, but it’s really not. You’re in the hospital now, and the two of you have been talking less and less. Even now with his feud between his friends, he feels even more alone. Today when he calls, you sound even more tired than usual.
“Hey, chocolate honeycomb bunny,” Jisung says, giving his absolute worst at giving a cringe-worthy nickname. It seems you’re too tired to even give a repulsed response.
“Hey.” You’re quiet for a moment, only your breathing heard across the line. “What’s up?”
“Nothing much,” sighs Jisung, running a hand through his dark locks. “Just exhausted. My coworker is getting on my last nerve.”
“The same one you talked about last week?”
“Who spilled the dirty oil on me? Yeah,” he responds with a roll of his eyes. “We’ve both been working the same amount of time, I just want to know why he’s so slow to pick it up.”
It’s characteristic of you to agree, seeing as complaining is one of your favorite past times. But you don’t, voice only coming out softly across the call, “Maybe just give him some time.”
“Yeah, I don’t know,” he sighs. “How about you? Are you feeling better?”
“About the same,” you respond truthfully. God, you sound so tired. He almost feels bad for making you talk to him when you clearly sound exhausted. “Any more results?” You ask, regarding his college acceptances.
“No,” he shakes his head. He doesn’t understand. He’s a good student, he’s done community service. Just what more do they want from him? “You said I was special, but I don’t think the colleges see that.”
He can almost see your small smile in his mind. “You are special. Just ‘cause they don’t see it doesn’t you aren’t.”
“Eh, I don’t know,” Jisung says, playing with a loose thread on his bedsheet.
What you say next catches him off guard. “Maybe we can both be college-less, together.”
“What?” He asks, brows tightening in confusion. “Didn’t you get into the journalism program at that one university?” He’s caught you. You’re silent on the line for a few long seconds, but the quiet is deafening for him.
“I did, but Jisung, I…” You hesitate. “I’m not going.”
“What do you mean you’re not going?” He asks.
“I… I don’t know if I want to.” In a small voice, you continue, “I don’t know that I’ll make it that long.” What are you saying? What are you implying? Heart racing, Jisung tries to decipher these words in his mind. To him, it just sounds like the end.
“You’re giving up already, I hear it in your voice.”
“I’m not,” you say, a broken promise. “I just… want to be prepared for the worst.”
“The worst isn’t coming. You’re going to get through this. You’re going to beat it. I know you are.” It becomes blatantly clear in this moment that the person Jisung is trying to convince, is himself.
His pleas fall upon deaf ears, because you argue back in what seems like the strongest voice you’ve made in months. As though you’ve amassed all your remaining energy for this conversation. “I’m not a hero, Jisung. I’m not cut out for this. The doctors said it’s not looking good.”
“Then prove them wrong. You’re gonna beat it.”
“I don’t want to be the underdog either, Ji. You know I hate them.” What you say next has his blood boiling. “I don’t deserve it anyways, no one would want me to come back.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Jisung raises his voice now, volume growing with each word.
“No one likes me,” you spit out across the line, and he doesn’t need to see you to imagine how incensed you are at the moment. “I’m rude, I’m loud, I cross boundaries and I say things that hurt without caring about who it touches. And before you yell at me that no one thinks of me like that, these are things I’ve heard from other people.” Your voice breaks, as does Jisung’s heart. “If this were a movie, no one would root for me to survive.”
“I do,” Jisung says, voice strong. “I’m rooting for you. Every. Single. Day. And who cares about how other people see you? You’re rude? You’re crass? I like you because of those things, because you’re different from me. Am I not enough?”
“You’re different,” you relent, voice tired. “You’re the only one who matters. But I—“ You choke up. “I’m just tired of fighting. I don’t want to go to sleep every night not knowing if I’ll wake up the next morning. I want to be strong, and I want to face every day knowing that it could be my last… I don’t want to leave anything behind—”
“You’re not leaving,” he cuts in.
“—and I can’t go through every day letting you think that everything is okay, because they’re not. But I’m ready to let go, Ji. Because I’m happy with what I had, with what we had, and I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”
Tears are falling down his cheeks now, suiciding off the surface of his face and staining his bed sheets. He doesn’t know if the tears are the result of sadness, anger, or the pain of loving someone the universe would never let him have, yet it hurts all the same. “But I love you! I told you that I loved you.”
“I love you too,” you cry, and the sound is heartbreaking. “But I just wish that were enough.”
A pregnant silence consumes both of you. All that can be heard is the sound of your mutual crying, along with your breathing that Jisung had learned to fall asleep to. When you speak again, your voice is steady. You had always been the stronger one. “I don’t think you should call anymore.” A few sniffles. He can’t even speak. “Goodbye, Jisung.”
Then the line dies.
-
It’s Christmastime. He knows it’s cold, probably even colder in the hospital where you are.
Now, Jisung knows you don’t want anything from him. You don’t want him around. In the past weeks he must have become someone even he wouldn’t want around. And though he gets the feeling that you’ll never need him again, he figures you could use a sweater. It’s nothing much, and really he thinks it could be better.
A hoodie, not fit to your size but slightly larger because he knew you well enough to know you’d like it like that. On one sleeve, near the wrist, a patch of a soccer ball. He had learned how to sew it on himself. On the other, his initials. JS.
He sends it in the mail, in a box to the hospital with your name and room number on it. There’s no letter, nothing. Just his bare soul in the form of an oversized cotton hoodie. He’d send it himself, appearing at the door to your hospital bed, but something tells him he’s run out of things to say.
-
His phone rings at three in the morning.
He knows what it means.
February 2nd, at 2:39AM. The world lost you.
It would never be the same again, and neither would he.
-
Grief is an interesting thing, someone once told him.
He doesn’t quite remember who it was, whether it was his sister comforting him after the death of their goldfish, the guidance counselor at his school giving him a required appointment after the passing of a student, or yourself. But as the hours go by, it feels more and more like a weight in his chest that has been sitting on a hollowed place in his heart.
Grief is indescribable, and Jisung doesn’t know if this is because his limited seventeen year old vocabulary hasn’t collected enough fitting words to even begin to verbalize his emotions, or if because it really is indescribable.
The first few days had been hell.
He had almost become someone that he didn’t know, barely stepping out of bed and perhaps worrying his sister out of her mind. It was his way of ignoring the world, dissociating himself from the irrefutable truth that you weren’t really gone. You were still laying in bed, three hours away as usual, struggling but still fighting. If he could lay in bed, sleeping the days away and ignoring his text message condolences from his friends, he could pretend for some time that things were the way they were, eight months ago.
Eight months before it.
Eight months before he lost you. Before your relationship, a burgeoning dandelion in the nook of spring. But dandelions represent rebirth, the reappearance of hope like a beacon after an arduous winter, and you would never have another spring.
He could not pretend, because every morning the sun rose again, and he would have to reach his head out from the burrow of blankets he had buried himself in. He would need to face it for himself that he woke up, and you didn’t. His friends texted. His sister knocked on his door and begged him to eat, even going as far as to cook his favorite foods as a means to lure him from the darkness of his corner. He ate. But it was never the same.
Messy bedheads, earbuds tucked in with muzak playing gently like the thrum of his heart which beat enough for the both of you, tear-stained pillow cases, knees to the chest, light failing to shine in through the blinds which remained closed, counting the seconds between each breath, dreaming insubordinate dreams.
The first few days went like that. Empty.
Then he was angry.
Angry because the world had given him a love worth changing for, then ripped it from his inexperienced hands. He had never had anything in his life! Not a mother, not a father. Could he not have this one lily, this flower which sought to remind him of the fragility of life? And even more so, he was angry for you. You were a fire—you were a bottle of passion bursting at the seams, a well of untapped potential, a boldness which no one else could emulate—and the universe crushed you beneath its foot.
And suddenly, the emptiness of your hollow space reflected upon him.
He should have been better, should have done more. A soccer ball proposition? A sweater? It was laughable; that was the least he could give? If only he had called, if only he hadn’t listened to you like the meek child he was, things could be better.
And above all, he was sad.
What would he do without you?
Moving on seemed useless. A light at the end of a dark tunnel which stretched for ages. An epiphany that you would never reach.
He just hoped that it was not cold. That you left the world in a ball of light, surrounded in the warmth of family and love, not the rigidness of the unforgiving world. Perhaps it was selfish of him, but he hoped that the soccer ball sleeve had been clutched to your chest, and that his hoodie could have provided just a little bit of that warmth.
-
The walking pattern outside his bedroom door is different from his sister’s. So is the knock on the door; his older sister’s is much more quiet, reserved, as though she was afraid to wake him. This one is harsh, and it reverberates through the room before the door opens.
The air in the room is still for a moment.
“Jisung.”
It’s Chenle. And Mark, Renjun, Jeno, Donghyuck, as well as Jaemin. They all take their seats either on the end of his bed, the floor, or his beanbag, but Jisung doesn’t move from his place underneath the blankets.
“What do you want?” He manages to groan out in a small voice.
Someone places a hand on his leg, a comforting gesture. He thinks it’s Jaemin from the gentle touch. “We’re here for you.”
Donghyuck comments, “You haven’t been to practice this week.” Of course that would be what they would mention first. Jisung scoffs. “I’m kind of going through something.”
“And we’re here.” Mark’s voice.
“We wanted to apologize.” Chenle speaks now, and despite being best friends since they were five, he’s the last person Jisung expected to say sorry. In their decade-long friendship, Chenle was the confident one, the one who charged forward without consequence while Jisung trailed behind, cleaning up his mess. “We’ve been… assholes, simply put.” Had he been in higher spirits, Jisung would have snorted. “We thought we understood what you were going through, and we thought it was dumb. To let yourself get hurt over some random girl… but we were wrong. We didn’t understand your point of view.”
“Not even a little bit,” says Donghyuck, head hanging low.
“Yeah, we’re supposed to be your friends. Your team! We’re supposed to lift you up when you’re down and… well, we haven’t been doing that. And we’re sorry. I’m sorry.” Chenle says. Slowly, Jisung lifts his head from below the blanket to face his friends. They all wear a variety of expressions, all somber. “And we know now… she’s not just some random girl.”
Yeah, they’ve all been assholes, some more than others, and Jisung can’t exactly say that they were any help in his struggle. But perhaps this was something he needed to go through alone. At the time, he needed you. But now… he just really needs his best friends.
Tears sting at his eyes for the nth time.
“Come here, you crybaby,” says Jaemin, opening his arms.
-
It’s Monday, meaning he has to go back to school today. He’s not ready, how could he be? It hasn’t even been a week since you… left, but he knows he has to go back. His sister, God bless her, had let him take the first few days off but now that the weekend has ended and school has rolled back around, he has no choice.
“You look like shit.”
Donghyuck has always lacked a filter. It would hurt if Jisung didn’t know that Donghyuck meant that in the best way possible. You look like shit, he says. So I’m glad you found it in you to come to school, is what he doesn’t say.
Jisung closes his locker with a sigh. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” snickers his friend, and Jisung turns his head to find Mark and Jaemin approaching. “Morning,” greets Jaemin as he taps the top of Jisung’s head, despite being shorter.
“Hi,” responds Jisung quietly, clutching his chemistry textbook to his chest. The three of them look at him with quiet and somber eyes, but don’t say anything. Mark places a comforting hand on his shoulder, giving it a small rub.
“You got this.”
The truth is, he can’t do this. The world feels quiet and empty, lacking a particular passion that you used to always embody. It could be worse. Thank goodness your relationship was rather private; he doesn’t know how he’d be able to function at school had there been curious eyes on him, if you had gone to the same school as him.
The day goes rather slowly, and Jisung busies himself with catching up on his work that he had missed. He could almost pretend like things are normal. It’s not until fifth period calculus that something strange happens.
An office TA pokes her head in and scrambles over to the teacher, who was in the midst of a very enthralling lecture on integrals that Jisung was definitely not paying great attention to. The TA whispers something into the teacher’s ear, then hands her a piece of paper. Mrs. Huang nods, then suddenly Jisung finds her eyes on him. “Jisung, Mr. Moon wants you in his office.”
Him? Why him of all people?
Mr. Moon is the guidance counselor at their school, and Jisung has a moment of internal panic—had he somehow found out about you? Should he prepare himself for a lecture about grief and moving on?
With a gulp, he nods.
Mr. Moon is a fairly nice man, with a friendly smile and a reputation for being a pushover teacher. Jisung had met with him a few months ago to discuss his desire to pursue a soccer scholarship but he highly doubts that’s the case now.
When Jisung enters Mr. Moon’s office, the first thing he sees isn’t Mr. Moon but a tall man with a stoic expression standing behind his desk. In contrast to the stranger, Mr. Moon wears his trademark smile. “Jisung, good to see you. Still getting a kick out of that old ball?”
Of course, Mr. Moon doesn’t know that Jisung skipped practice all last week to mope in his bed, but Jisung nods politely. “Yes, sir.”
“Good,” responds the teacher with a smile. “Take a seat.”
He gestures to the chair in front of his desk, and cautiously does Jisung take a seat. The tall, bruff man is still standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, having not yet said a single word. Somehow the atmosphere is tense, and Jisung’s quite sure he knows what this is about.
“Now, Jisung, I’ve called you in today because—”
“Is this about (Name)?” Perhaps it’s a bit rude of him, but Jisung doesn’t want to be prodded at, at least not by people who think they know him. The last thing he wants is pity.
Mr. Moon’s eyebrow raises just the slightest, and he leans forward on his desk. “Why, yes, it is. How did you know?”
A scoff leaves Jisung’s lips, but it’s much weaker than he would like. “My question is, how did you know? Who told you?” Who was it that shared information on his personal life? Was it his sister? His friends?
“Nobody had to tell me, Jisung. (Name) sent the letter to me herself.”
Wait… what?
Jisung blinks, hands falling slack on his lap. “W-What? What letter?”
Perhaps his staring is a bit too obvious, for Mr. Moon gestures to the stranger in question with a hand. “Jisung, this is Johnny Seo.” Finally, the intimidating stranger has a name. “Johnny is the head coach of the soccer team at Greenwood University—” Wait, Greenwood University? That’s Jisung’s dream school—well, it was his dream school, until they rejected his application for a soccer scholarship. What would they want to do with him? “—and he wants to offer you a full-ride scholarship.”
What?
Jisung’s mouth falls open. What? What the hell? Hadn’t they just rejected him three months ago? His eyes must be bugging out of his face, so he blinks repeatedly, trying to find the words to say.
“W-Wait, what? A… A full ride?” He stammers, unable to find his tongue.
The man named Johnny only nods. “Full ride. Covered tuition, dorming, and soccer costs. All you have to do is keep your grades up and keep scoring those fancy goals of yours I’ve heard about.”
“But—But, you rejected me… why now?”
For the first time, Johnny gives a small smile. “Because of the letter.” There it is, that letter again that Jisung has no idea about. He looks to Mr. Moon for guidance. All the counselor does is open his desk drawer and pull out an envelope, which he slides across his desk. “(Name) (Last Name) wrote a recommendation letter to the university, and honestly, it was stunning. It was enough to make the admissions board… bend a little, to say the least.”
Reaching forward, Jisung grabs the envelope and examines it in his hands. It’s opened, but yes, on the front is your handwriting. He’s cried so much this past week that he doesn’t know how many times tears have touched his eyes, but they sting once more. This time, he doesn’t let them fall.
“She… wrote a letter. For me?”
“That she did,” responds Mr. Moon.
“She’s right,” says Johnny suddenly. “In our work at the university, we’re always looking for the best of the best. We should look deeper, sometimes.” The words sink in the room, and Jisung finds himself staring down at the envelope in his hands. What things had you had to say about him?
Honestly, all he can think about is his failure. How he failed to be there for you, how he cowarded in your presence when you told him to leave you alone. He bites down on his lip.
“So? Will you accept our offer?”
Jisung looks up again, meeting Johnny’s expectant eyes. “I…” His mouth suddenly runs dry. “I don’t know, I… I need to think about it.”
“You’re not graduating for another four months. Take your time.” Slowly, still in glassy-eyed disbelief, Jisung nods. His fingers find the edge of the envelope, tracing its pointed edge. You wrote that for him. From across the desk, Mr. Moon speaks up. “You should read that letter, Jisung, and realize what’s coming for you: good things.”
-
To Whom It May Concern,
Hello. My name is (Name) (Last Name), and I am a high school student writing this letter to appeal a rejection by your university. Not of my own application, but of an extraordinary person with the name Jisung Park. In my humble opinion, I believe that your institution has made a grave mistake in not offering a scholarship to Jisung. So, I write this letter to appeal such a rejection, and to do something that he hated, though it was what I always did best: write about Jisung.
Now, Jisung is a humble person who never speaks up about his struggles, but the truth is that of all students, I believe he is the most in need of this scholarship. His parents passed when he was young, and he grew up in the care of his older sister who raised him. Their small but strong family made sacrifices, gave up luxuries, and endeavored to survive.
In the midst of this crisis, Jisung found his one savior: soccer.
He is, without a doubt, the best soccer player I have ever seen in my entire life. He can sprint across the field in half a normal player’s time, and I’ve never seen him miss a goal or a pass. But his soccer prowess isn’t what makes him great. Moreover, Jisung is the person you want on a team. He believes in teamwork, but is always striving to be better. He doesn’t want to stand out, but does so anyways. He is never arrogant, nor boastful. If there is one person who deserves this, it’s him.
But, I am sure that you are thinking: why should this letter mean anything to you? I’m not a highly valued individual in the community, nor have I done anything significant for my name to mean anything. I’m only a seventeen year old student, a struggling journalist.
The answer to that question is, I know Jisung Park. You only see his grades, the shallow things on his application. You will never get to see the Jisung Park that I knew and loved.
In my time alive, Jisung Park made an impact on my life that will never be forgotten. Even when life seemed the darkest, not a beam of light in the field's view, Jisung picked me up and made me see the sunset. I know now, the sunset is beautiful, warm, and comforting—everything that Jisung is. He never left my side, and never for a single moment did I ever feel alone in his presence. The world often overplays the saying “a heart of gold,” but the truth is that Jisung has one.
I used to think that love would be red, like the burning of one’s lungs racing down a soccer field, or black and white, made to be simple. But the truth is, love is golden. Golden like the sunset painting streaks against the floor, golden like Jisung. It’s a warmth that covers you from head to toe, relenting into a future that you don’t know.
He is my golden boy, and he can be yours too.
I may not have a future, but if there’s one thing that I know, it’s that Jisung deserves one.
I’m a journalist. I don’t write love letters, but perhaps this is the closest I can ever get. And should Jisung ever read this letter, I hope he knows that with this, I dedicated my last spark of sunlight to him.
Sincerely,
(Name) (Last Name)
-
Your funeral occurs on February 13th, a week and four days after your passing.
Jisung stands in front of the bathroom mirror, nose scrunched in concentration as he makes a feeble attempt on his necktie. This is surely not as easy as throwing on a soccer jersey. “Ugh,” he groans, fingers getting confused again.
“Need help?”
His sister’s dainty voice calls him from the bathroom door. Dressed in all black, she’s ready too. Turning his head, Jisung sighs. “Please.” She makes his way toward him, fingers coming to work on his tie already with steady hands.
“You’re too tall now,” she says softly, with a chuckle. It’s true; he used to look up to her, physically and figuratively, but now he’s an entire head above her. “You’ve grown up a lot.”
It was his eighteenth birthday just a few days ago but to be quite honest, he hadn’t had the heart to celebrate it. If anything, he had always thought that his eighteenth birthday would be like an epiphany for him. As though he would wake up the morning of, feeling like an adult with all the answers to the world.
The truth is, he’s eighteen now and he still feels like he has no idea what he’s doing.
“I don’t feel any different,” he admits. “I thought eighteen would mean something.”
“You’ll get there, trust me. And anyways, I always told you not to grow up too fast.”
For a moment there’s a silence as his sister swoops the tie in and out, weaving it to form the perfect knot. Feeling something scratch at the back of his throat, Jisung speaks. “... I’m sorry.”
“What are you apologizing for, silly? I was the one who never taught you how to knot a necktie,” she chuckles.
“Not for that,” he says. “For last week. I… probably scared you.”
Suddenly, his sister is wearing that demure smile of hers again. The one that is small and polite, but always seems to carry more weight in it than he can see. “No. It’s okay, I knew you’d be better.”
Naeun finally finishes the knot, tightening it the slightest around Jisung’s neck. “There you go.” He offers her a small thanks as he turns to look in the mirror, and she begins to leave. A sigh leaves him; there’s no avoiding it now, he’s ready to go.
“You know, Jisung,” she suddenly speaks up from the doorway. “I’m glad that you met her. Even if it ended up like this… you’re different. In a good way, and I think she had a lot to do with it. Even if you don’t feel different… you are.”
-
In the months of your relationship, Jisung had come to learn your insecurities. You were loud and proud, but with that confidence came an unwavering insecurity that you were unliked by those you spilled your tongue to. At the funeral, Jisung sees that that’s not at all true.
People give speeches for you, place flowers on your grave. The school newspaper had even written an article to commemorate your presence on their team, and the president of the club reads it aloud. A number of hospital staff make their appearance.
Even Jisung’s friends show up, despite the clear memory of them calling you crazy early on. Maybe they were right, maybe you were crazy. But he probably was too.
It doesn’t rain a single drop, though it had been pouring for three days before. Instead, the sun peeks through the overcast clouds, gifting sunshine.
Jisung smiles.
He probably looks like an idiot, carrying the soccer ball around the entire funeral but he knows what it means to him, and what it means to you. When he places it on your grave, the grass still fresh, his eyes catch the carefully written words on a singular white spot.
I love you.
He knows that he means it.
At eighteen, there a lot of things that Jisung still doesn’t know. But even so, there are a handful of truths that he can hold onto forever. One, he’s still an incredible soccer player and girls are still very scary. But like soccer, maybe that just takes time and practice.
Two, growing up isn’t about a number. It’s not about partying or drinking, nor is it about rushing into relationships that have little meaning. For years Jisung had wanted to grow up, to face the world with no fears and be able to cruise through. But he knows now that growing up is about being strong in the face of sadness, pain, grief. About waking up every morning even if you feel like you have no reason to.
Love is the same.
Love isn’t about making out on the bleachers after practice or trying to copy the coy clichés seen in romance movies. It’s about the sacrifices, like four hour bus rides. It’s about communication and connection, like a recommendation letter traced in gold. Because of you, he’s moving forward. He can go to college, and the day will never come when he stops being grateful toward you and everything you’ve done. That’s love, and he will spend the rest of his life loving you. Maybe the love will change but it will always be love.
It hurts that you’re gone, it really does. Jisung doesn’t think it’ll ever stop hurting.
But the last thing he knows is that things will be okay.
Life moves on, and he will too.
#neowritingsnet#dreamwritersnet#nct-writers#neohbh#neothestars#park jisung angst#jisung angst#jisung fluff#park jisung fluff#park jisung fanfic#jisung fanfic#nct dream fluff#nct dream angst#nct angst#nct fluff#nct fanfic#nct dream fanfic
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Average (Frat!Tom Holland x reader)
summary: tom holland is the handsome, popular, and charismatic king of your campus. so why has he taken an interest in you?
warnings: none
word count: 3,000
pairings: frat!tom holland x reader
a/n: I personally prefer respectful frat boy tom to jerky frat boy tom. inspired by this glorious photo. I hope you you like it:)
When Tom Holland first spoke to you, your immediate instinct was to assume it was a joke.
You’d just arrived at the party his frat was throwing and immediately made a beeline for the kitchen. You were never totally comfortable in situations like these, but after a couple drinks you tended to be more social and easygoing.
“Hey,” a voice said as you finished pouring yourself some of the suspicious-looking Jungle Juice. You turned around and almost did a double-take.
You knew who Tom was; his roommate Harrison was friends with your roommate Jess, but you’d never spoken to him. He was popular, but there were no rumors about him being a player or an asshole or a creep like there were with some of his frat brothers.
Now he was smiling at you, looking casual in jeans and a black t-shirt, a baseball cap pulled over his curly hair. “Hey,” you answered, once you were positive he was talking to you. There was no one else around you, but still.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
“Um, no thanks,” you said, gesturing to the cup in your hand. “I’m good.” You figured he was just being polite, but then he continued to speak to you.
“You’re Jess’s roommate, right?” he asked.
You nodded, a little surprised. You honestly didn’t even think he was aware you existed. But then it hit you—he must be looking for her and probably recognized you from one of her Instagram photos or something. “Yeah. I don’t know where she is, though. I just got here.”
“Cool,” he said. “I’ve only met her a couple times—she’s friends with my roommate Harrison—but she talked about you a lot. I’m Tom.” He held out his hand.
Slowly, you shook it. “Y/N.” This was weird. If he wasn’t being polite and he wasn’t looking for someone else, then why was he talking to you? You had to get out of there. “Um, I have to go now. It was nice meeting you.”
“Oh, okay,” he said. “See you around, maybe.” You smiled a little instead of answering before practically fleeing the kitchen and joining the party. The rest of the night passed uneventfully and you didn’t see Tom again.
You thought about him briefly afterwards, but decided not to dwell on it. Maybe he was just bored. Maybe he saw you by yourself and took pity on you.
A few days later, Jess ambushed you while you were doing homework in the library. “You talked to Tom Holland at the party on Saturday?” she whispered excitedly.
“Yeah, for like a minute. It was before I found you. Why?”
“Harrison told me he was asking about you. Want me to pass along your number?”
“No!” you said quickly, feeling your face get warm. “Wait. What do you mean, he was asking about me? Asking what?”
“You know, just like . . . what your deal is, and whatever.” She shrugged. “He probably wants to hang out with you.”
“Me? Why?” The thought made your heartbeat quicken.
Jess rolled her eyes. “Oh my God. Why wouldn’t he? You’re a total catch. I don’t know why you’re so surprised.”
The conversation was making you more and more uncomfortable. Tom was good-looking and popular and probably had tons of people lining up just to “hang out” with him. What was so special about you?
Despite your doubts, you found yourself giving in. “Okay,” you said finally. “I guess you can give him my number.”
Jess smiled, her eyes sparkling. “Awesome. I’ll tell Harrison.” She leaned closer, suddenly serious. “And look, I wouldn’t push this if I didn’t think it was a good idea, okay? You know I got your back. Tom is really nice.”
She had a point. “I know,” you said grudgingly. “We’ll see if he even texts me.”
~ ~ ~
Tom texted you the day after Jess passed your number on.
hey it’s tom, we met at the party on saturday :) i got your number from jess. i was wondering if you wanna hang out sometime?
You spent almost an hour reading it over and over, trying to figure out if there was any hidden meaning in the short message. Finally you wrote back: sure.
You expected him to invite you to another frat party or something similar, but instead he asked if you wanted to grab coffee and do homework. Midterms were coming up, after all.
So you met him at a cafe on campus on a chilly Thursday afternoon. He was there when you arrived, sitting at a table in the back. He looked cozy, all bundled up in a hoodie and sweats. You bought yourself a hot chocolate and sat across from him. “Um, hi.”
“Hi.” He smiled at you. “How’s it going?”
“Good. How are you?”
“Pretty good.”
You looked around. He’d picked a two-person table, but that didn’t mean someone else couldn’t pull up a chair. “Is it just going to be us?”
His smile faded a little. “Uh, yeah. Is that okay? I thought—I mean, you can see if Jess is around or something, but—”
“No, no,” you interrupted, wanting to kick yourself. “No, this is fine. I was just asking. I don’t mind.”
“Oh, okay.” He relaxed. “I’m glad you came. I didn’t think you would.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “You just didn’t seem very, uh . . . excited.”
You cringed inwardly, clearing your throat. “Oh, sorry. I’m not very good at texting. Ask Jess.” You smiled a little at the thought of your best friend. “She’s always mad at me because I take hours to respond and then it usually just ends up being one word.”
Tom laughed. “Oh man, my brother Sam is the same way. I have to send a message to him in all caps that says SOS EMERGENCY PLEASE ANSWER NOW if I want him to answer within the hour.”
“You have a brother?”
“Yeah, three actually. There’s me, then the twins Sam and Harry, and then my youngest brother Paddy.”
“Wow,” you said, raising your eyebrows. “Your house must’ve been pretty crazy growing up.”
“You could say that.”
Before you got to the cafe, you told yourself that you only had to stay for an hour. One hour, and then you could make up some excuse as to why you had to leave. But as time went on, you realized you were actually enjoying yourself. The conversation flowed naturally, and Tom was a good listener. He didn’t seem to mind when you eventually lapsed into silence to get some studying down, and the two of you worked quietly for a while. He even offered to refill your drink when he went to get another for himself.
“Got any plans for dinner?” he asked finally, breaking the comfortable silence you’d grown used to. You looked out the window and saw it was getting dark out.
At first you thought maybe he was going to ask if you wanted to get something to eat with him. But as quick as the idea occurred, you shot it down. That was silly; he’d already been here with you for a few hours now. Maybe he was meeting other people after this and wanted you to take a hint.
So you lied, “Yeah, I’m meeting Jess at a dining hall. I should probably get going, actually.”
“Oh, right,” he said, glancing down at his homework. “Uh, same here.” You both quickly packed up your stuff and left the cafe, pausing before you officially went your separate ways.
“That was fun,” Tom said. He hesitated, and you braced yourself to hear some excuse as to why he would never talk to you again.
You certainly weren’t expecting him to ask shyly, “Would you want to hang out again?” You blinked, certain you hadn’t heard him right. But he just looked at you, waiting for your response, and after a pause you nodded.
“Yeah. I would like that.”
Tom’s answering smile was practically blinding. You couldn’t help but return it. “Awesome,” he said. “Um, I’ll text you?”
“Okay,” you said. “See you later.” He smiled at you for a second longer before he turned and walked away, a happy sort of bounce in his step.
You couldn’t help it; you walked home with a dumb grin on your face.
~ ~ ~
True to his word, Tom texted you a few days later to ask if you wanted to hang out again. This time you accepted readily.
At first, the two of you just got together to have coffee and do homework. Then he somehow managed to figure out part of your schedule and would meet you on your way to class. Even if he had a lecture on the other side of campus, he insisted on walking you all the way to yours.
He started texting you more, sometimes sending you funny videos or memes, but also sharing random thoughts and asking questions. Now you checked your phone frequently, trying to get in the habit of responding quickly or initiating conversation with him first. You followed each other on social media and you noticed he’d liked all of your Instagram photos. Just to be funny, you liked a couple of his too, but then wondered if he would find it weird.
“We’re friends,” you told Jess when she noticed you smiling at your phone. “That’s it.”
“Yeah, and I’m the Queen of England. Are you kidding me?”
“I’m serious,” you said, because you knew what she was insinuating and there was just no way Tom Holland would be into you like that. Sometimes you saw him around campus, always surrounded by a laughing group of friends and admirers. He was like the sun, and you knew you were lucky to even be in his orbit.
“We’re having a party on Friday night,” Tom said to you one afternoon. The weather was nice, so you’d claimed a sunny spot out on the quad to do some homework.
“Cool.” You were more focused on the essay you were writing than the conversation.
“Are you gonna go?” he pressed.
“I don’t know. Maybe if Jess goes I’ll come too.”
“Well . . .” He trailed off, and you looked up to see he was fidgeting with the cuffs of his sleeves. “What if we went together?”
You stared at him. Of all the things you were expecting him to say, it certainly was not that. “Like . . . me and you? Like . . . as your date?”
Tom was blushing now, steadily avoiding your eyes. “Um. Yes?”
Alarm bells were going off in your brain. If Jess were here she’d be throwing a parade, but you knew there had to be a catch. Out of all the people on campus, why was he asking you?
You opened your mouth to say no, but then he finally glanced up at you. His expression was so earnest and hopeful that you found yourself saying, “Sure.”
“Really? You want to?” he said, like he couldn’t believe it.
You nodded. “Yeah, it sounds fun.”
There was that goofy grin again, lighting up his entire face. “Okay,” he said. “Cool.”
You knew you should be excited, but there was a nervous pit in your stomach that just wouldn’t go away. It was still there when you arrived at Tom’s frat house that Friday. You didn’t recognize the brother at the door on security duty, but he took one look and waved you inside, no questions asked.
You were a little confused; you came by yourself last time too and had to say you knew Harrison. But the brother merely said, “Tom put you on the list.”
The boy in question was in the kitchen, talking to a few of his brothers. He noticed you walk in immediately and his eyes lit up. “Hey! You’re here!” To your surprise he gave you a hug, and you tried not to focus on how good his cologne smelled.
“You look nice,” he said when he pulled away. In an attempt to feel more confident, you’d worn your favorite pair of jeans and a cute top, even allowing Jess to do some hair and makeup magic on you.
“Thank you,” you said. “Um, so do you.” He was just in jeans and a purple flannel, a black baseball cap twisted backwards on his head, but he still managed to make it look effortlessly cool.
“Thanks.” He paused. “I’m, uh, really glad you came.”
“Me too,” you said quietly. He smiled at you and the knot in your stomach tightened.
Tom barely left your side the entire night. He introduced you to some of his fraternity brothers, whose names you forgot as soon as they said them. A few of them had brought dates too, and while they were all friendly and welcoming, you couldn’t help but feel frumpy and plain standing next to them.
It didn’t help that there were some not-so-friendly girls coming over too. They gave Tom hugs and kisses on the cheek before eyeing you critically. You could practically see the invisible thought bubble forming over their heads each time they looked at you: why is he here with you? You wanted to tell them that you were wondering the same thing.
The longer you thought about it, the worse you felt. It just didn’t make sense. Tom had practically half the campus falling at his feet; why wasn’t he with someone more talented, better looking, charismatic? Why had he picked you? You were so . . . average.
Maybe it was some kind of prank, some kind of fucked-up tradition in his fraternity: find a shy girl, get her to fall in love with you, and then break her heart. That had to be it. There was no other explanation.
“Are you alright?” Tom asked, tearing you from your thoughts. You realized you hadn’t spoken in several minutes, just staring off into space.
You swallowed. “Could we, um, go somewhere quiet? Please?”
He studied your face for a second before he nodded. “Of course.” He put one hand on your back, gently guiding you out of the crowded room and up the stairs. You followed him down the hallway until he stopped at a door with a sign that said TOM & HARRISON.
Oh. This was his room.
He ushered you in and you noticed he left the door slightly ajar, so you could easily leave if you wanted to. Still, you immediately took a seat at his desk, not wanting to even go near the bed. Tom didn’t seem to mind, falling onto it with a loud thud and a content sigh. Neither of you spoke for a minute. Finally you glanced over at him and saw he was already watching you, a tiny smile on his face.
You couldn’t take it any longer. “Is this, like, a prank or something?”
“What?”
“This. Like,” you gestured vaguely between the two of you, “all of this. Is it a joke?”
Tom’s smile vanished. He scrambled to sit up, scooting towards the edge of the bed. “What are you talking about? Why would you even think that?”
You shrugged, avoiding his eyes. “I don’t know. I’ve just been trying to figure out why someone like you would be doing all of this with someone like me.”
He looked lost. “Doing what?”
“You know . . . hanging out with me, texting me, inviting me here . . .”
He stared at you for a second before he let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “I mean . . . I like you. I thought that was obvious.”
“But why?” You were frustrated to find you were near tears. “You could have your pick of anyone on this campus. There are so many girls in this house alone right now who are prettier and funnier and more interesting than me. So why . . . why me?”
Tom slowly stood up and came over to where you were sitting, kneeling in front of you. “Because I think you’re pretty and funny and interesting,” he said, looking at you unflinchingly. “None of those other people matter to me. I don’t know why you keep trying to convince yourself that you’re, like . . . not good enough or whatever, but it’s not true.”
You bit your lip as he took your hand. “I’m just . . . not used to this. Usually people tend not to notice me.”
“I did,” he said simply. “And I really, really like you.”
“I really like you too,” you said quietly. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry,” Tom said gently. “Just trust me, okay? I would never hurt you like that.”
He was being honest. He always had been, but you believed him now. You took a deep breath. “Can I kiss you?”
Tom blinked in surprise before he nodded. You leaned in and kissed him softly; his lips were a little chapped and tasted sweet and sort of fruity, like the juice from his drink. His hands came up to carefully cup your jaw, holding you in place. It made your head dizzy and your knees weak; it was perfect.
It was like a dam broke. Suddenly you couldn’t get enough of him, couldn’t figure out what to do with the happy, fizzy feeling in your stomach. You pulled back a little, pressing kisses to his cheeks and his nose. Tom giggled like the touch made him ticklish and you thought to yourself, You were so silly to deny yourself for so long, to think you didn’t deserve this.
You knew better now. You knew you did.
#tom holland#tom holland x reader#tom holland x y/n#tom holland x you#tom holland fanfiction#tom holland fandom#tom holland fic#tom holland one shot#tom holland oneshot#writing
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Do You Know Your Alphabet?
NSFW Edition feat. Chris Redfield
A – Anal:
Anal is not something that Chris fancies mostly because he believes his girth would be a liability. He never tried it and doesn’t intend to out of fear of hurting his partner.
If anal is your thing, it will take a lot of reassuring and a hell lot of patience to convince Chris to give it a try. And even if you miraculously manage to persuade him, Chris will permanently ask if everything’s okay while doing it and it will be the only time he tries it, as he will probably refuse to do it again. However, and this is a secret he refuses to confess, he loves getting his asshole licked. A partner gave him an ass job once and it drove him crazy in spite of the reluctance he had at the beginning.
B – Bondage:
Chris is not the kind of man that would tie his partner up but he has nothing against being tied up. When he was part of the S.T.A.R.S. unit and used to own a pair of handcuffs, he once let a partner use them on him and found it really arousing.
But bondage remains very occasional and especially rather simple and soft. A bit of rope or a piece of clothe around the wrists is enough for Chris. Don’t offer to bind his entire body with rope and to hang him up from the ceiling. That would actually scare the shit out of him.
C- Cumming:
He always comes inside his partner. He knows it’s risky but he doesn’t care. He is not a fan of condoms and he wears them only if he doesn’t have a choice. He is the kind of man that would drop the “they’re not confortable and you can’t feel a thing” kind of speech.
But since Chris only has sex when he is in a relationship, not wearing a condom is rarely a problem. Accidental pregnancy will be happily accepted if it happens. After all, Chris would love to be a father (#RedfieldBloodlineSecured)
D- Dominance:
Despite his impressive massive stature, Chris is not a dominant (nor is he a submissive). He is a good boy who likes to take the role his partner wants him to have.
But Chris can’t do extreme. His dominance always remains rather gentle. He doesn’t know excessive roughness or brutality. What he believes is roughness is actually fucking his partner from behind hard enough to hear their ass slap against him.
And when it comes to submission, most of the time it’s just him letting his lover ride him.
Chris would never do BDSM since he strongly believes that there’s only place for love and tenderness in sex. No pain for the man please. He suffers enough on the battlefield everyday.
E- Erection:
Chris doesn’t get aroused easily, a secondary effect of the steroids he used to take back in early 2000. So his partner needs to be patient and very touchy-feely to get him hard. Few kisses in the neck and wandering hands caressing his body won’t be enough to give him an erection. You must play with him and be a tease. Have fun with his cock and his body in general and you’ll get the D.
Moreover, nudity almost leaves Chris indifferent. He spent too much time seeing too many naked bodies in locker rooms while training with the Air Force and the BSAA to be aroused by nudity so unless you improvise a strip-tease, getting naked will almost keep him limp.
F- Foreplay:
Always. Chris can barely imagine sex without foreplay and he is quite an expert when it comes to it. He sort of had to be since Mother Nature made him too big for any partner to welcome his girth without foreplay or some good lube.
Fingers, mouth, Chris will use everything he’s got and take his time to please his partner and he will do it gladly. He is more of a giver than a receiver in that matter. It suits his caring nature and his generosity.
But being a giver doesn’t mean he doesn’t like to receive. He will happily accept blowjobs, handjobs and even assjobs. But he will never ask for them. It’s his partner’s job to guess what the man wants.
G- Gangbang:
That’s a non-negotiable ‘Hell no!”
Chris has a really bad memory of gangbangs. When he was training to join the Air Force, he once accepted the invitation of some fellow comrades for a “festive event in the dorm”. Turns out the festive event was more a gangbang than the party Chris had imagined. As soon as everybody started making out and getting undressed, Chris used an urge to smoke as an excuse to leave. And of course he never came back.
Since that day, don’t talk to him about gangbang or threesome or any sexual interaction that would involve more than two persons. Sex is for two and two only.
H- Handjob:
He prefers blowjobs but he convinced himself that hand jobs are certainly more comfortable for his partner since giving a fellatio to Chris Redfield almost requires you to be able to stretch your jaw like an anaconda if you want to take him properly.
But let’s move on to hands jobs. He likes his partner’s grip wet, firm and quick but he doesn’t like his balls being touched too much. He is very ticklish. Oops.
I- Intimacy:
To Chris, sex must be intimate. He is not the kind of man that will have sex in public places. The fact of getting caught doesn’t turn him on, quite the opposite. He will definitely feel really uncomfortable if there were even a slight chance to be seen or heard. That is why he often has sex at home.
When he was younger he used to fuck in his car because he refused to do it in his room knowing that Claire wasn’t far. The sweetie wanted to preserve his little sister’s innocence and also avoid the walk of shame in the morning (The Redfields were leaving with Barry’s family back in the days). This is one of the reasons why he wasn’t really sexually active in his young years.
J- Jerking off:
He doesn’t and hasn’t done it in years. When horniness strikes him, Chris always tries to get his mind out of it by doing something else. Most of the time he goes to the gym or for a run around the neighbourhood.
Chris has associated jerking off to adolescence, when he used to buy porn magazines with his friends and hide them under his mattress.
One day, his mother found his intimate little collection and she asked his father to give him a talk on pornography and on sex in general. That was really awkward but Chris believes that this conversation was a turning point in his sexuality. It taught him how meaningful sex is supposed to be and that a partner is not a mere toy but someone to respect and love. That’s maybe why Chris never really had one-night stands and why he is such a softie in bed.
K – Kink:
He has no real kink nor does he have fetishes. But there are things he likes such as making sex a little playful on occasion, but nothing too wild.
Once, when he used to date a girl from the BSAA tech department who was younger than him (he was around 35 and she was in her early twenties), he gave the DDLG kink (DaddyDom/LittleGirl) a shot because that’s what she wanted to do but that was really awkward and it almost turned Chris off. As much as he saw no problem in calling her Princess or Baby, being called Daddy was not something he really appreciated. To Chris, the whole thing had a weird incestuous vibe and it made him feel rather uncomfortable.
But now that he is in his late forties, maybe he’ll give it another shot and see the thing differently. Who knows.
L- Love:
To Chris, there is no sex without love and outside a relationship. Chris is not the kind of man that fancies one-night stands and he always takes his time before allowing himself to share one’s bed. He will never have sex after a first date.
Chris believes sex tastes a thousand times sweeter when you are in love with your partner. So definitely no hook-ups for him.
Chris had a few one-night stands back in Raccoon City when he used to go and grab a few drinks with Joseph and Forest on Saturday nights. Forest had a bad influence on him. He was always the one to tell him to “enjoy life” and to talk him into having some casual sex with a random college student. Each time Chris was drunk and ended up waking up with no memory of the sex. That was awkward but not as awkward as the “Sorry, I don’t know why I did this” part because, let’s face it, S.T.A.R.S Chris was a puppy that definitely would apologize for having a one-night stand.
M - Massage:
Oh yes. Give his sore body a good massage after days and days of chasing BOWs and terrorists in mud and dust and Chris will be the happiest man in the world. Massage (and cuddles …and sex of course) is the only thing that can make him relax and forget about the BSAA for a few minutes.
However, Chris is not very talented when it comes to give his partner a massage and he is aware of that. He always put too much pressure on their muscles with his big hands and his body sadly often crushes them.
N – Nudity:
Even though he is rather body confident and spent more time than he wished getting naked and showering in mixed locker rooms, Chris is not the kind of man that would spend a day naked at home. He always wears shorts and tank tops. A habit he took when he was a teenager getting yelled at by his mother for walking around the house shirtless. Mama Redfield was rather prudish.
But that doesn’t mean Chris is modest. He doesn’t mind sharing the bathroom with his partner or getting naked in front of them. And he can take a shower with them without getting a boner. Nudity doesn’t arouse him unless his partner makes it sexual.
O – Oral sex:
Oral Sex Expert is a crown no one can take away from Chris Redfield. His penis being rather fat and way above average (which is a blessing and a curse), Chris has no choice but use his fleshy pink lips and nice tongue to prepare his partner for what’s to come. But don’t mind him, he likes doing it, feeling intense pride and pleasure in seeing his partner melt under his mouth … and his fingers cause the first can’t go without the other. His partner needs to be stretched and wet for him otherwise it might hurt like a bitch. And he knows it to well cause he caused pain to some partners when he was younger and lacked experience.
Chris also loves blowjobs but he knows that his penis is not easy to take in mouth. So if his partner doesn’t want to give him a blowjob he won’t complain.
He hates the sound of gagging. So, don’t try deep throating. Suck his tip and he will be happy. And maybe use your hands at the same time.
P – Position.
Chris is very cautious when it comes to positions. He has a big fat cock and he is very aware of it. When he was young, he used to take a certain pride in it but that was before he realised that girth is not always practical. Chris knows that if he becomes overzealous he can easily hurt his partner. That’s why he tries to avoid positions that allow deep penetrations, a misfortune for someone who has a very classical view of sex like him.
Chris is not an original lover and he is not very curious. You’re more likely to find a Bible in this night shelf than a Kama Sutra. So don’t except any crazy positions in bed. Sex with Chris is almost conservative and, sadly, often routine. Missionary, doggy style, cowgirl, spooning are basically the only positions the guy know and unfortunately for him he can’t do the first two because of his girth. That’s why he found a way to adapt them.
In missionary position, he always makes sure his lover keep their legs together. The tight squeeze gives him the impression he is all in while it gives his lover enough of his D.
Same goes for doggy style if you choose to do it on a bed. Otherwise (and Chris will love it) you can do it standing.
Standing positions are very easy with a man as gifted as Chris.
Q – Quickie:
Almost never. Chris likes to take his time while having sex especially when he knows he’s probably not going to get off for a while if a mission is planned. Quickies happen when he is in a hurry and his partner craves some quick release.
When he used to date a fellow BSAA colleague, quickies in mission (especially if they lasted long) sometimes happened but always in very secluded places. No one must know what the BSAA Captain liked to do in his intimacy.
R – Role Play:
It will never be his idea but he doesn’t mind it as long as it isn’t something fucked-up (like incest for instance) or highly ridiculous and far-fetched. Don’t show up in a nurse or airhostess costume. You would only make him laugh. And don’t do something that needs a lot of imagination because the guy doesn’t have much. Stay simple and make the role-play relatable for him. Call him “Captain Redfield” while showing up naked under in his BSAA t-shirt and tell him you need some intense training session with him. Or, if you’re in a dominant mood, pretend you’re his boss and tell him he needs to apologize for screwing the last mission.
His first role-play was when he was S.T.A.R.S and it was the classical cop/inmate role-play.
S – Stamina:
Sadly, Chris doesn’t have much stamina, again a direct consequences of taking steroids in his young years. Therefore, sex can sometimes be quick with him especially if he gets too enthusiastic.
To overcome this problem, Chris will adapt his pace to delay his orgasm and he will often take breaks. During those breaks, he will happily go down on his partner to keep them aroused. He will also edge many times to make sure he can give his partner the release they deserve. He will not stop fucking them until he feels them crumble against his body.
T – Talking:
Chris is very complimentary. He often tells how beautiful his partner is and how good they feel. But apart from those compliments, Chris doesn’t talk much. He won’t give verbal orders to his partner and he will make them understand what he wants with looks and gestures. If he wants you on top he will simply lie on his back and nod you to straddle him. If he wants you to suck his cock, he will caress your hair and glance at his manhood.
However, in spite of lacking loquaciousness, Chris growls and grunts a lot and he is very loud. Hell, even his breathing is noisy. When the man is fucking, you can be sure that his neighbours know about it. What do you want? A big man like him in a bed can’t be discreet.
Speaking of bed, I hope your bed is solid because it will creak and slam against the wall with a man like Chris in it. Maybe it’s time to invest in a new headboard or to think about fucking on the floor.
U – Underwear:
Chris wears briefs because they are the most confortable to him. Trunks and even boxers are often too tight around his thick thighs, which can be bothering especially to run while on mission. Comfort before looks, always.
Chris doesn’t care about the type of underwear his lover wears since he always takes them off and he would never find his SO ugly anyway. He would fuck them even if they wore grandma underwear.
Sure he won’t say he doesn’t appreciate the sight of his lover in some nice fancy lingerie but he doesn’t need that to be turned on.
V – Virginity:
Chris used to turn people’s heads back in high school. He was already tall (taller than most student to be honest) and had a quarterback-ish build that made everyone drool. Plus, wearing leather jackets and listening to rock music gave him a sort of bad boy’s look and everybody knows how craved bad boys can be. But even if he looked like one, Chris was no bad boy. He was just a bit rebellious and very stubborn, having no problem with defying his teachers. He got in detention quite a lot of times because of that.
But despite his handsomeness, Chris wasn’t the type of young man to use his looks to get a girl. He was actually not even aware of how attractive he was and he actually had no real interest in girls, preferring playing guitar and listening to music in his room. Plus he was a bit goofy around girls. He didn’t know how to flirt with them or to realise when someone was hitting on him.
Therefore the girl that took Chris Redfield’s V card wasn’t a random girl. She was a friend of Claire he had known for years and had happened to grow fond of in spite of Claire’s opinions. He took her virginity and she took his on the backseat of his car. But unfortunately he broke up with her soon after because he chose to join the Air Force. Claire never truly forgave him for that.
W – Worship :
He likes butts, round fleshy butts that he can see bounce against him and grab whenever he wants.
When he kisses you, Chris always let his hands roam towards your rear to gently squeeze it and he will often stare at it if he’s got the occasion to do so. While having sex, he will always squeeze it especially if you’re on top of him or doing it doggy style. And if he can, he will also grind his cock between your cheeks.
X- Xenophilia :
Chris is a man that gives little attention to his partner’s appearance. Of course, he needs to feel attracted to them but, to Chris, what matters the most is chemistry. You can be the most gorgeous person in the world and use all the cards in your sleeve to get the man, if there is no chemistry Chris won’t even consider you.
However he can’t deny he has a thing for natural beauties and simplicity. Eccentricity doesn’t attract him, on the contrary. And he has a soft spot for light-coloured eyes.
He has no problem dating person who is way younger or way older than him. Again all is a question of chemistry.
Y – Yearn:
He never truly asks for sex, at least not verbally. Chris is not the kind of man that will tell you. “Love making tonight?” or “Let’s go upstairs, darling”. If he is horny he will simply say nothing and let you notice that he wants to get laid. Often, it’s very easy since that a horny Chris Redfield is a touchy-feely Chris Redfield. Plus, his eyes always darken when he wants to have sex.
Z – Zzzzz:
After sex, Chris falls asleep very quickly and he always sleeps like a log. Nothing can wake him up after a good orgasm and that’s simply because love-making is one of the rarest moment he can truly relax and forget about all the troubles linked to his work.
He always sleep with his partner nestled against his chest. But careful, he snores.
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Park Days (Winteriron)
Previously a KOFI exclusive fic!
THERE’S MORE WINTERIRON ON MY MASTERLIST
***************
Saturdays were park days and Tony's favorite day of the week. He and Morgan didn't get a whole lot of time to just have fun together, not when Tony averaged sixty hour work weeks between home and office and Morgan did ballet every day after school.
Their life was hectic and hurried and more often than not, dinner was eaten at close to eight pm at night, both Tony and Morgan sprawled in the living room as Morgan finished her homework and chattered about her day and Tony listened as well as he could while filling out reports for work.
But Saturdays? Saturdays were park days, and there was no homework, no reports, no phone calls. Just Tony and Morgan doing whatever they wanted for an entire day and it was Tony's favorite.
"Slow down, Bug!" he called when Morgan's skipping turned into more of a sprint. "I'm getting old, can't keep up anymore!"
"Get a cane then!" Morgan sassed and Tony threw back his head and laughed out loud. At eight years old, Morgan was smart snarky, petty and hilarious and even though Tony knew he would be in trouble when she hit teenage years, for now he just laughed and enjoyed the attitude.
"Alright, seriously!" he called a little louder when the little girl really took off. "You might be shockingly grown up at eight years old, but I still need to be able to see you at all times! Stay close!"
"But Daddy!" Morgan pointed towards the branches of a tree. "It's a cyanocitta cristata! I need it for my science class bingo board! Quick, take a picture!"
"Cyanocitta cristata." Tony repeated. "A blue jay? For science class bingo?"
"Bring your phone! Get a picture!" Morgan darted off the path and into the wooded area of the park, ducking and dodging branches, then throwing herself onto her belly to get under a particularly thick bush. "Daddy! Come on! Or Jimmy's going to win Bingo and I hate that guy!"
"Oh no, not Jimmy!" Tony called back, gamely diving into the woods as well. "I'm coming. Just hold on."
God, it was ridiculous how quick eight year olds could be when they were chasing something interesting, not to mention Morgan was much better suited to navigating bushes than Tony. Tony was still getting slapped in the face by leaves and branches while Morgan had already popped out the other side and was screeching for her dad to hurry before the cyanocitta cristata flew away and then screeching louder, "OH NO! ICE CREAM! I'M SO SORRY!"
And just as Tony was skirting the last bush, wondering why the heck Morgan was wailing about ice cream, he heard a deep voice ask, "What'r'ya doin' chasin' blue birds, honey?"
Uhhhh what?
In no universe ever did Tony want a strange man ever talking to his daughter, much less a man who was calling her honey and apparently had ice cream and--
Tony crashed through the bushes and back onto the path ready to rip some jerk a new asshole for even daring to approach his daughter, but he stopped short when he saw Morgan with both hands over her mouth and tears in her eyes, a man kneeling down in front of her with his hands out placatingly.
"Hey hey. It's alright. No harm done." he was saying in that same deep voice. "No harm done, ice cream is replaceable. But blue jays? Definitely need a picture of those. Don't cry, little darlin'. It's all okay."
"What's going on?" Tony asked slowly. "Bug? You okay?”
"Daddy." Morgan ran to his side and hid her face in his shirt. "I tripped chasing the blue jay and ran into him and spilled his ice cream and I know you told me to slow down, I should have just slowed down, I should have listened and--"
"Easy easy, sweetie. It's alright." Tony soothed her quickly, his heart clenching at Morgan's rambling. She had the same anxiety he'd had his entire life, and no amount of comfort or reassurance seemed to settle the little girl once she got worked up. In moments like this, all Tony could do is stay calm and try to calm her as well.
"Ice cream is easy to clean up, easy to replace, and there are a thousand blue jays in this park.” He murmured, “Plus I'm sure Mr.--" Tony raised his eyebrows and waited for a name.
"Bucky Barnes." The stranger stood up--holy crap was he tall-- and flashed Tony a quick smile, apparently not bothered in the least by the smear of vanilla and chocolate ice cream down the front of what looked like a very expensive sweater. "But Bucky is fine."
"Mr. Bucky." Tony finished. "Will let me pay to get his sweater cleaned and buy a new ice cream cone. You aren't in trouble for running, sweetheart. This is a park, we are allowed to run at parks, right?"
"I'd be running if I saw a cyanocitta cristata too." Bucky informed her, and Morgan peeked out at him curiously. "They sure are pretty, huh?"
"You know the scientific names for blue jays?" she asked, little nose wrinkling in near suspicion. "Do you like science?"
"I've destroyed a few science fair projects, sure." Bucky said gravely, but he winked at Tony. "Do you like science?"
"I passed an six grade chemistry exam yesterday." Morgan got a little braver. "And I'm only eight."
"Wow." Bucky whistled "You are much smarter than me, Ms.--"
"Bug." Morgan prompted and Tony hastened to correct, "Her name is Morgan."
"But Daddy calls me Bug." she finished. "Because I'm creepy crawly."
Bucky chuckled, warm and inviting and Tony cleared his throat because not only was Bucky tall as hell and filling out the ruined sweater with the sort of muscles Tony had only seen in magazines, Bucky's laugh was pretty amazing too.
Wow.
"It's uh--" Tony cleared his throat again. "From when she started to crawl. She did the stink bug thing, you know? Butt in the air?"
"My nephew crawls the same way." Bucky grinned in understanding. "Well Ms. Bug. No harm done, my sweater is fine. Go get your blue jay and have a real good rest of your day, alright?"
"Do you want to help me find one?" Morgan asked excitedly, derailed from her earlier worry by the prospect of trying to find the bird with someone else scientifically inclined. "Maybe you could take the picture cos you're taller than my dad and could get better pictures!"
"Morgan, I'm sure Mr. Bucky has something to do with his day besides chase birds." Tony started to say, but Bucky interrupted--
"You know what, Ms. Bug? I think that would be real fun. Especially if your dad comes along." Bucky's light blue eyes landed at Tony's bare ring finger, then tracked up his frame to meet Tony's gaze. "That alright with you, Mr. Bug Sr?"
"It's Tony." Tony blushed a little at Bucky's suggestive smile. "And um-- park days are days just for me and Bug so--"
"Oh I don't mind!" Bug called over her shoulder as she wandered down the path, concentrating on the branches. "Come on, Mr. Bucky!"
Bucky raised his eyebrows and Tony hesitated, torn between wanting to keep park days just for them and the suddenly startling realization that not only had he been dateless for almost three years, but that life had been so busy late he couldn't remember the last time he'd had some... private... time.
And whew Bucky was gorgeous and smiling and obviously checking him out...
"What do you say, Tony?"
"If Morgan's okay with sharing park day, I guess I am too." Tony finally answered and Bucky's smile widened. "Let's go find us a blue jay."
Morgan clapped her hands in excitement and took off down the path, checking behind every few minutes to make sure Tony could still see her, and with his eyes firmly on Bug as she ran around, Tony asked,
"So. Saturday's are park days for you too?"
"Oh." Bucky pulled a hair tie from his pocket and swept his hair up and away from his face, highlighting a defined jaw that Tony had a hard time looked away from. "Saturday mornings I do tai chi in front of the gazebo, so I was just cutting through to get back to my place. Stopped for ice cream."
"Tai chi, huh?" Tony asked skeptically. "In a two hundred dollar sweater?"
"Is this a two hundred dollar sweater?" Bucky looked down at his ruined shirt in surprise. "I stole it from my friend Sam. He's such a cheap ass when it comes to paying for drinks I figured he was a cheap ass with his clothes too!"
Tony laughed out loud and Bucky waggled his eyebrows. "Knew you were checking me out, by the way. Good thing Morgan spilled ice cream on me, huh? Otherwise you'd have to find another reason to stare at my pecs."
"Oh my god." Tony laughed again and waved when Morgan pointed out a patch of wild flowers. "Was it that obvious?"
"I only noticed you staring cos I was staring too." Bucky assured him in that same easy tone. "And don't worry about the sweater. I'll get it dry cleaned and Sam won't know the difference. Besides, if I told him I got flattened by a kid chasing a blue bird he'd never let me live it down."
"He sounds like a peach." Tony said dryly and Bucky snorted something in agreement. "I'll reimburse you for the dry cleaning, just send me the receipt."
"So that means I'll get to see you again, right?" Bucky prompted. "If I have to find you to get the receipt, I mean. We should make it dinner, you like steak? I know a great place on 4th. Food so good it'll put you in a coma."
"Wow." Tony blinked. "You always ask random guys out for dinner when you walk through the park?"
"Only when they are gorgeous and smart enough to teach their kid the scientific names of common birds." Bucky replied. "And you know--" a quick glance. "Only when they're as good looking as you."
"Wow." Tony said again, and this time his laugh was a little nervous. "Well um--"
"Daddy!" Morgan shouted. "Mr. Bucky! I found one! I found one!"
The question of a date was sidelined till later as both Tony and Bucky took off jogging to catch up with Morgan, who was practically dancing in place and pointing up the tree.
"Look look look." She said impatiently. "Right there! Quick! A picture!"
"I got it." Bucky lifted his phone and snapped a few pictures, zoomed in and snapped another one. "There, how's that?"
Morgan checked the pictures over then gave Bucky a thumbs up. "Thank you! It's perfect!"
Morgan was off like a shot again, heading towards the swings at the far end of the park and Bucky turned to Tony. "What's your number, I'll send these to you."
"Look." Tony took a deep breath in. "Bucky. I'm um-- well I'm flattered as hell by the invitation to dinner and it's been so long since I've had a date I probably don't even remember how to do this sort of thing, but I gotta tell you--"
"Your whole life revolves around your daughter and you don't have time to date." Bucky finished, and when Tony's mouth fell open, he nodded. "I get it. But you know--"
"I was going to say it's hard to take you seriously when you have pieces of waffle cone on your shirt." Tony interrupted. "I mean yes, the daughter thing too, but also you know--"
He reached out and plucked a piece from Bucky's shirt. "You've been walking with us for like fifteen minutes and haven't made a single attempt to clean up, which is both hilarious and makes me worry about how messy you're going to be at dinner."
"Ah." Bucky looked down and then up again. "Well I can fix the sweater issue." One smooth motion and Bucky stripped the sweater right off, showing off a whole lotta muscles that his black tank top barely covered.
"Oh, look at that." Tony gulped a little, then glanced up to find Morgan, grateful that she had found the swings and wasn't currently watching her Dad drool over their new friend. "Tai chi, you say?"
"On Saturday's in front of the gazebo." Bucky sounded like he was thoroughly enjoying Tony's gawking. "So. If I promise not to spill steak sauce on myself? Dinner?"
"...Bug doesn't like steak." Tony said slowly. "And I'm sorry, but between my work and her school we hardly have any time together and you're-- wow you're gorgeous. And I'm flattered, but I'm not giving up time with my kiddo--"
"What kind of food does Morgan like?" Bucky interrupted. "And if you turn me down, I'll leave it alone. I'd just like to see you again, and Morgan seems great, so bring her along. We'll get chicken wings and pizza. Pasta. Hamburgers. Whatever."
"Really?" Tony said skeptically. "You don't mind?"
"How many times do you run into someone that is not only smoking hot but super smart and has a smile that makes your knees feel all jello-y?" Bucky asked bluntly. "Cos you tick all those boxes for me and I think I'd be a damn idiot to not pursue it. What do you say?"
Tony sent one more look at Morgan, and then pulled out a business card.
"Here's my number." Bucky's eyes lit up and Tony smiled. "Um, Saturday's are always park days, so why don't I take the sweater and get it cleaned, I'll give it back to you next week and you can buy Bug and I some ice cream. Too boring a date for you?"
"Sounds great." Bucky handed over his sweater. "I can't wait till next Saturday. Can I text you in the meantime?"
"...yes." Tony fought against another blush. "That's fine. Cos you um-- you tick all those boxes for me too. In fact, you said cyanocitta cristata and I think my heart skipped a beat."
"Ah good, my master plan." Bucky's wink was practically lecherous. "To spout scientific names and have nerdy single dads fall for me."
"Working like a champ." Tony informed him, cheeks burning when Bucky laughed out loud. "Alright, I've got to go catch Bug before she attempts something very dangerous off those swings. Um-- Saturday?"
"Definitely." Bucky held out his hand and when Tony went to shake it, Bucky turned Tony's hand over and pressed a kiss to his palm. "Nice to meet you, Tony."
"Nice to meet you too."
Bucky headed back the way he came sweater-less, and Tony stood right where he was, debating whether or not he was going to actually smell the sweater to get another hint of Bucky's cologne.
"Daddy." Morgan popped up beside him and Tony jumped.
"Sorry Bug, did I miss your trick?"
"No." Morgan wrinkled her nose up again. "No, I did some math and I don't think I can do a back flip. Not enough time to get a full rotation before dealing with some serious face-plantery.”
"That's my girl." Tony kissed the top of her head. "Where to do you want to go now?"
"The carousel."
"Sure baby, come on."
Tony's phone buzzed and he opened his messages to the unknown number.
Ask Morgan if Tyrannus tyrannus is on her bingo list, there's one by the cotton candy stand.
"Bug?" Tony asked. "Is the Eastern Kingbird on your bingo?"
"YES!" Morgan shouted. "DO YOU SEE ONE?!"
"Um, Bucky did, apparently."
"HE'S THE BEST!" Morgan darted away and Tony sighed and took off after her. "I LOVE PARK DAYS!"
....Tony loved park days too.
**************
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the one where it’s mother’s day
It’s Mother’s Day weekend, and Peter’s overthinking.
Word Count: ~7.2k
A/N: This is part of my One-offs series available on AO3
Peter was, in the simplest terms, upset. It was the Friday before Mother’s Day and Midtown was making a much bigger deal about it than he remembered them doing last year.
The Literature Club was selling Mother’s Day cards and flowers to fund their literary magazine. The Geology Club was holding workshops to create basic crystal jewelry and other trinkets for the holiday. And the Home Economics elective classes were making chocolate-dipped strawberries and other treats for mothers of the students. That was just the beginning of campus festivities celebrating mothers.
Peter never knew of Mother’s Day being such a big deal, especially at school. Sure, for kids with loving mothers, he understood the importance of the holiday. But, there were kids just like him that didn’t have a mother. There were even more kids that had bad relationships with their mothers. For those in question, holidays like Mother’s Day just inspired guilt and longing. Seeing other people love their moms as much as the average person does, makes kids like Peter realize just how much was taken from them by not having a loving mother.
It was easy enough to just walk past the kids heckling passersby to buy whatever it was they were selling, he could just stick his earphones in and book it down the hall. But, when Ned had come into their Spanish class 10 minutes before the bell rang with red and pink treats in a small Tupperware container and a wide grin, Peter realized getting out of today with minimal damage was easier said than done.
He was, understandably, very sensitive when it came to talk of his family. Especially his mother. Talking about the late Mary Parker often led the conversation to the late May Parker. Peter was very close with both women, more so May than Mary to no fault of anyone. May just happened to be there for a larger portion of his life. And she was amazing. Just as loving and warm as his real mother had been.
Peter always thought about considering May to be his mother, and Ben his father. But, he knew that neither of them really wanted children. While the couple surely loved Peter as their own child, he was still their nephew. Not their son. He was just closer to his aunt and uncle because they were the closest thing to him that filled the gaping hole in his heart that Richard and Mary left when they died. And it wasn’t until May bled out in Peter’s arms that he begged to any God listening for a mother. He didn’t think he needed one after Mary died because he had May. And she was more than enough. But, without her… Peter was lost without a mother.
“Peter!” Ned called, waving a hand in front of Peter’s face, “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Peter shook his head to rid himself of the dread blooming in his gut, “What’s up?”
“I was telling you about the reject pile of cake pops and chocolate-dipped strawberries I have from Home Ec, but you seem to be elsewhere.”
“Sorry, man,” Peter sighed, “Today’s just been… I don’t know.”
“What’s wrong?” Ned asked, shoving the Tupperware into his friend's chest. Peter took the dish into his hand and sighed, grabbing a lumpy chocolate-dipped strawberry before taking a bite.
He chewed thoughtfully and set down the Tupperware before scrubbing a hand across his tired face. He wanted to ask Ned to just forget about it, that it wasn’t a big deal. But today was his weekly internship day. And he really wanted his teenage angst bullshit to be done and over with before he made it to Tony Stark’s lab. Plus, he was spending the weekend with the genius in the tower and didn’t want the holiday to spoil his fun.
Peter’s been friends with Ned for more than half of his life, since right after his parents died and he moved to Queens. Ned was by his side through his grief then, and again when May was murdered. Peter just knew his friend would understand.
“It’s just…” Peter swallowed, “It’s Mother's day on Sunday. And I… y’know.”
“Oh,” Ned’s face softened, “I’m sorry, man. That’s gotta hurt like crazy every year.”
“It does,” Peter nodded solemnly, “Everyone’s making a huge deal out of it this year for some reason. So I can’t really just… ignore it like I always have. It’s like the universe is subtly rubbing it in my face that I don’t have a mom.”
“Didn’t you and Ben spend the weekend in last year? Maybe you guys can do that again?” Ned suggested, wanting to help cheer his friend up.
“He’s working all weekend,” Peter shook his head before scoffing, “He asked Ms. Stark if I could stay at the tower since he won’t be home much. I guess he thinks I still need a babysitter.”
“I think he just didn’t want you to be alone this weekend,” Ned offered with a sad smile, “But, you’ll be with Ms. Stark! And that’s perfect, right?”
“How is that perfect? Doesn’t really change the orphan part.” Peter squinted with skepticism.
“Yeah, sorry man. I can’t really fix that,” Ned shrugged, “But she’s like… she’s basically like a mom to you. So you get to spend Mother's Day with her! It’s okay to, like, be sad about your mom and your aunt but, you’ll be with the next best thing!”
“What do you—” Peter’s question was cut off by the bell ringing. The teen huffed out a breath of frustration and watched students begin to trail in. He figured he still had a few moments before there’d be people eavesdropping, and Peter was desperate for an answer.
“What do you mean? She’s my boss, she’s not—” Peter whispered to Ned.
“C’mon, Peter,” Ned sighed, “You tell me all the time how motherly she is with you. And I know you really care about her.”
“What are you—” Peter shook his head in disbelief. What was Ned even saying?
“You told me on Monday that you and Ben had brunch with her on Saturday. That you spent last Friday night with her at the tower. That she made sure you ate enough, that you guys even had ice cream on her couch and watched Inside Out. You even said she comforted you when you cried. That’s pretty mom-like behavior if you ask me.” Ned explained with a nonchalant shrug.
“That’s not—” Peter was cut off by Ned shaking his head.
“She does things moms do for their kids. What your mom must’ve done for you before she died, and what I know for a fact May did too. Ms. Stark clearly cares about you, dude.”
“I don’t—” Peter began, his voice small. The idea of Ned thinking Ms. Stark acted like a mom towards Peter honestly scared him. Did Ms. Stark really feel that way? Maybe it was just a mistake. She didn’t mean to be all… motherly… Right? She’s just...really nice and caring.
Right?
“She’s not…” Peter shook his head, “She doesn’t feel that way. I couldn’t possib—”
“Peter,” Ned sighed again, “I bet if you asked her, she’d admit it. She cares about how you feel, and wouldn’t want you to be hurting the way you are now. Right?”
“Well, yeah, but,” Peter replied, “That doesn’t mean she loves me like a son!”
“I think she does,” Ned shrugged. Before Peter could respond, the late bell rang and their Spanish teacher, Señora Hernandez came rushing in.
“Lo siento, chicos!” She announced, “I was gathering supplies for today’s activity, so I was a little behind.”
Peter glanced at his teacher shuffling through stacks of art supplies on her desk and sighed. Of course. They were going to make something for their mothers today, weren’t they?
“Today, we are doing something nice. We’re having a unit exam next Friday, so we’ll begin preparation for that on Monday,” Sra Hernandez announced, “Today, since it’s the Friday before Mother’s Day and I don’t really want to start a new lesson so close to the exam, we’re just celebrating the holiday.”
Señora Hernandez began instructing the class on folding and constructing a tissue paper flower tied to twisted green craft wire and secured with tape. She went into detail, going over each step and showing the class what each step should look like. It was a simple craft that would take a majority of the class time to execute with over 20 students to instruct and accommodate to.
“Now, when I come to you,” Señora Hernandez announced with a smile, “You can pick one to two colors of tissue paper. Then you can begin cutting and folding the flowers. If you have any questions or need any help, feel free to ask a neighbor or me. Once your flower is done, come to my desk and get your wire. ¿Entiendes?”
“Entiendo,” The class replied in unison.
“And what are they for?” A random voice asked from the back. A collection of voices replied “Mother’s Day, duh!” or some other variation of that exact sentiment.
“Mother’s Day is on Sunday and these are for your wonderful mamas at home,” Sra Hernandez replied with a smile.
“What if we don’t want to make these for our mothers?” A familiar voice asked. Peter whipped around to see none other than Michelle Jones staring at the teacher with an expression just short of a scowl.
“Why wouldn’t you want to make one for your mom? That’s your mom. The least you could do is make a paper flower for her?” Another voice chimes in, Peter noticing it was the voice of Cheryl Tang. He wasn’t particularly friends with the cheerleader in question, but he’d had several classes with the girl since elementary school. Ben used to be close friends with Cheryl’s dad, so the two students often went to the other’s birthday party or other family events. The two knew each other enough to not be strangers, but not enough to be friends.
“The least I could do? What are you talking about?” Michelle asked.
“That’s your mother? Don’t you love her and w—“ Cheryl began but was interrupted by Sra Hernandez.
“Ladies, please,” The teacher tried to calm the interaction as she could see both students very passionately discussing a very touchy subject.
“No, as a matter of fact, I do not love my mother. She’s never done anything for me and—“ Michelle bit back, ignoring the teacher’s injection before Cheryl responded,
“How could you not love your mother? She’s your mom! She gave you life, she—“
“She gave birth to me then dumped me with my dad and my grandmother. She was never a mother. Not to me. She’s a stranger.”
“How could you say that? She—“ Cheryl seemed distraught. She, herself, loved her mother. Her mother was her best friend. And to hear Michelle speak so poorly of her own mother, it almost felt insulting to Cheryl. Peter, ever-the-helpful, wanted to just diffuse the situation without invalidating either girl’s feelings. So, gently, he spoke, “Cheryl, not everyone has a loving mother like you do. It’s great that you do and I’m glad you want to appreciate her on Mother’s Day, but not everyone else is lucky enough to have that.”
“It’s different for you, Peter,” Cheryl replied, not unkindly, “Your mother is dead. And so is your aunt, so you have no choice. But Michelle has a choice and—“
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Michelle asked, now she seemed angry, “Why would you say that? You think he doesn’t kn—“
“Ladies,” Sra Hernandez attempted to regain some sort of semblance of control over the class again. Once attention seemed to be on her, she placed her hands out, to calm the situation.
“Ladies, Señor Parker is right,” Señora Hernandez began, “Not everyone in life comes from or gets to go home to a family that includes a loving mother. That doesn’t mean they are any less loved or important. We can still love and appreciate what we have without drawing attention to what others may or may not have. Michelle, you’re more than welcome to skip this activity or give your flower to someone else you care for this Mother’s Day. Perhaps an aunt or you mentioned your grandmother? Do you have a good relationship with her?”
“Of course, I’d do anything for that woman. She’s my whole world and I love her very much,” Michelle nodded with passion, almost as if she was ready to strike someone about to badmouth the woman in question.
“That’s very sweet, mija,” Sra Hernandez replied with a smile, “Why don't you make your flower for her, then? Just a very small way to show her you love her and that you were thinking about her today. How does that sound?”
Michelle looked up at Peter with a sense of trepidation. It almost seemed as if she was asking him for permission, which confused him. Peter just offered her a smile and an encouraging nod. Just because he was having a crisis over the holiday, didn’t mean he wanted anyone, especially a friend like Michelle, to too. That’s just how Peter is. Michelle then hesitated for a moment before nodding in agreement, “Yeah, okay.”
“Muy bien,” Sra Hernandez smiled. Luckily, Cheryl held her tongue. It was likely she was realizing that perhaps she was just lucky, rather than to expect everyone to have what she had.
Señora Hernandez proceeded to pass out the preferred colored tissue paper to each student as per request.
“So,” Ned chimed, “Are you gonna make a flower for Ms. Stark?”
“What?” Peter gaped, “Are you insane? Why would I do that?”
“Same reason Michelle’s making one for her grandmother,” Ned replied smugly.
“Ned,” Peter warned. He was starting to get uncharacteristically frustrated. Despite this, Ned seemed unfazed. Ned didn’t want to push his best friend, but he also didn't want the holiday to ruin his best friend’s weekend. It actually upset him to see Peter hurt so much when Ms. Stark was there for him.
“You don’t have to accept her as a mother, Peter,” Ned began, “She’s not going to replace your mom or May. But I know for a fact that they’d want you to be happy and accept all the love you can get. Ms. Stark cares about you, and you can’t deny that.”
“But,” Peter mumbled, “You don’t think it’s like… betraying them? Like I’m moving on or something with someone that isn’t even family.”
“She is family, just not by blood. You know that’s just as important, right?”
Peter nodded.
“It’s not betrayal, dude. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to have as many people love you as possible. You’ve got me and my family, of course. Ben, most of all… And you’ve got Ms. Stark! That’s awesome and I know how happier you’ve become since you started spending more time with her.”
“But,” Peter began. Ned continued, “Dude, make her a flower, don’t make her a flower… whatever you want. I just don’t want you feeling like you don’t have someone who cares about you the way May and your mom did. That’s all I’m trying to say.”
Just then Señora Hernandez came up to Ned’s desk and allowed him to pick out his desired color of tissue paper.
“Peter,” The woman smiled kindly, “If you’d prefer to sit out on this activity, you’re welcome to either do homework for another class or even just listen to music on your phone if you’d like.”
Ned looked up at Peter to gauge his reaction. Peter was conflicted. Sure, he knew Ned was right and that his brain was just bullying his heart into not seeing Ms. Stark as a mother. His brain knew that Poor Peter Parker didn’t have a mother, because all the women that try will die before Peter even has the chance to appreciate it. But, right now, his heart wouldn’t shut up. This wasn’t the first time his heart told him that his brain was just overprotective; protecting the body and soul from further destruction. It happened whenever he found himself happy and secure with Ms. Stark, like on their late-night lab sessions, or movie nights in the penthouse. If Peter didn’t acknowledge that he had someone that held him, loved him, fed him, and cared for him like a mother, then when she inevitably died, it’d hurt much less. Or even better, she wouldn’t die at all. As long as Ms. Stark didn’t fall under the Poor Peter Parker Curse™, she’d live a long and happy life. Right?
So, maybe Peter lets his heart win this time… Would Ms. Stark even want a stupid tissue paper flower that he made for a Spanish class arts and crafts project for Mother’s day? No, right? She’s a billionaire, with a big fat capital B.
“I think she’d love it, Peter,” Ned said softly as if he was reading Peter’s thoughts himself. And, heck, maybe he was. Ned seemed to have a strange Peter telepathy, always knowing what his best friend was feeling just by one glance. Right now, Peter couldn’t be more grateful for it.
“Can I get yellow and red, Sra. Hernandez?” Peter asked with a hint of a smile.
“Por supuesto, cariño,” The teacher replied with a smile, handing the boy his requested materials, “If you boys need any help, just ask me, okay?”
“Gracias, Señora Hernández,” The two replied in sync.
The boys get to work on their paper flowers, chatting mindlessly about their history paper that had been assigned earlier that morning. They planned on working on it together during study hall, so they didn’t have to worry about it over the weekend. It was a family holiday, after all. The paper wasn’t due until next Friday, but the boys liked getting the first draft done almost immediately so they could spend a few days consulting each other and MJ for the revisions.
As if summoned, MJ came over to their desks and showed them her nearly completed flower with a smile. Peter returned the smile and held his own flower up to her, he was nearing the end of the folding process and he was proud of how well it was coming together. Ned was already done, just waiting for Peter so that they could go up to retrieve their green wire together.
“I used mama’s favorite colors,” Michelle said as her fingers expertly secured the last tab on the flower, “I think I’m gonna give it to her when she picks me up from school. Dad and I got her actual presents for Sunday, so this will just be a dumb little school thing. Just from me.”
“I’m sure she’ll love it just as much as her other gifts,” Peter assured her as he finished his flower up. He spun the tissue paper flower delicately in his hand to admire his work, “Maybe even more, since you took the time to make it yourself.”
“Yeah,” Michelle nodded, “Tony Stark will feel the same way.”
“Wha—?” Peter looked up at her with wide eyes.
“C’mon, loser, we all know a mama bear when we see one,” Michelle shook her head playfully, “I’ve known since she chaperoned that zoo trip.”
“What do you mean?” Peter asked.
“She tripped Flash and bought you dippin’ dots and a turtle plushie,” Ned replied for her.
“Then you fell asleep on her shoulder on the way back to school,” Michelle added with a shrug.
“God, that was embarrassing,” Peter sighed, covering his eyes with his hands.
“She seemed fine with it,” Michelle smiled, “Plus, no one would give you a hard time about it. Not after everything you’ve been through. No one here’s that cruel, y’know?”
“Not even Flash has brought it up,” Ned agreed.
“Flash saw?!” Peter cried, burying his face in his arms on his desk.
“It’s fine, Parker,” Michelle said, casually fixing up the petals on her flower, fluffing them out, “Like we said, no one’s that cruel.”
“Whatever,” Peter sighed, standing up and leading the trio to Señora Hernandez’s desk.
Luckily, the rest of the period went without mention of the holiday. His friends were able to expertly talk around the upcoming Sunday altogether as if the art project was random and there wasn’t a holiday just two days away. Peter was grateful, as he figured the more he dwelled on it, the more nervous he’d become.
Before he knew it, it was hours later and study hall was crawling to an end. He and Ned had finished their rough draft nearly 20 minutes ago and were just sitting in agonizing boredom, waiting for the final bell to ring. The tissue paper flower felt like it was burning a hole in Peter’s hoodie pocket, where he had delicately tucked it away; checking on it every so often to make sure it didn’t get crushed.
Restlessly, he pulls out a blank sheet of printer paper from the stack in the center of the table Ned had gathered for the two to brainstorm on. Peter begins doodling random bits and bobs, mainly little spider webs, a little cheeseburger because his powers made him already burn through the large lunch he had eaten and made him a bit peckish, amongst other things. Ned looks up from his phone and looks at Peter doodling with a small smile. Peter was never one to sit still, not as long as Ned had known him, anyway. The Parker boy always had to be doing something, even if only just internally. Whether that be bouncing his leg, tapping a pen, or counting floor tiles, Peter was always occupied subconsciously doing something. Doodling was a common occurrence for him.
“You should make Ms. Stark a card,” Ned suggested as he nudged Peter’s side with his elbow.
“What do you mean?” Peter mumbled half-heartedly, his eyes glued to his paper where he carefully drew an Iron Woman helmet.
“To give her with the flower, make it official,” Ned shrugged. Peter froze for a second before looking up at his friend. By then, Ned had already resumed scrolling on his phone, not paying much attention to Peter as he waited for the bell to ring. Peter looked at him for a long moment before deciding he was right.
Peter continued doodling so he could think of what to write on the card, or what to decorate it with. He had about 15 minutes until the bell would ring and he’d have to meet Happy out in front to take him to the tower. Peter racked his brain for something that wasn’t pathetic or embarrassing and unfortunately came up with nothing. He let out a frustrated sigh and was about to crumple up his doodles when he stopped to actually look at it.
The paper was covered in little Spider-Man figures: his mask, webs, a crude doodle of his web-shooters, and a little scribble of droney. It also had a large variety of Iron Woman related doodles: her helmet, her repulsors, the arc reactor, even a tiny little Dum-E with his dunce cap on. The gaps in the paper were filled with little doodles of food and even scenes of Spider-Man kicking Captain America in the face and stealing the man’s shield. Peter couldn't think of a better design for a card if he tried.
This was his subconscious’ doing. He had absent-mindedly drawn whatever his body brought forth with muscle memory while he thought about spending Mother’s Day weekend with a woman he’d grown to love more than he ever intended to.
Acknowledging this, Peter carefully folded the paper in half and scribbled a note inside. All he could do now is put it all out on the table for his mentor and hope she didn’t laugh at him for too long.
Suddenly, the bell rang and kids quickly scattered to get the hell out of there. Peter packed up, carefully tucking away the card so it didn’t get crumpled up. He fished out the flower from his pocket and fluffed out some of the petals that had been the smallest bit smooshed. Satisfied with his work, Peter turned to Ned, waiting for the boy to finish packing up. Soon enough, the boys were walking towards the student pick-up area. It was then that they passed by the botany club packing away the last of their unsold plants for the day. Peter saw a sign that prompted passersby to ask about their cactus flowers for Mother’s Day which stopped him in his tracks. He walks up to the booth, Ned treading behind him.
“Hey, can I ask about the cactus flowers?” Peter spoke to Jeremy Cochran, a senior boy he used to eat lunch with when Ned was out of school for an entire month with some horrible stomach bug he picked up from traveling abroad.
“Oh,” Jeremy smiled at Peter, setting down a carton of the plants in question. They were small potted cacti with flowers blooming beautifully on top, ranging from white to yellow and bright pink, “Well, cactus flowers are a symbol of maternal love in Native American culture. Like cactus flowers, a mother’s love won’t die for even the harshest of conditions; it can withstand pretty much anything with enough care.”
“Really?” Peter asked, looking down at the petite flower with a hint of awe.
“Yeah,” Jeremy explained, “They also have really prominent medicinal properties, which can represent a mother’s protective quality over her children.”
“And so you guys are selling these for Mother’s Day?” Peter asked, looking back up at Jeremy.
“Yeah,” He nodded, “They’re only like a buck fifty now that we’re all gonna go home now.”
Without hesitation, Peter fished out his wallet from his back pocket and handed Jeremy two dollar bills.
“I’d like one, please,” Peter said with a hopeful smile. Jeremy nodded and took the money, handed him his change, and carefully transferred the cactus with the brightest flowers blooming beautifully on top of it. Peter took the plant with a grateful smile.
“Thanks, Jeremy,” The boy nodded, “Have a good weekend.”
Jeremy nodded in return and Peter and Ned continued their way to the front of the school.
“Dude, now you’re totally going to show me up on Mother’s Day.” Ned groaned, “All I got my mom was stupid knife set which I’m almost certain she already has.”
“You think Ms. Stark will like it?” Peter asked as he spun the cactus in his hand, mindful of the pricks.
“I think she’ll love it, Peter,” Ned smiled, ‘“It’s from you, anyway.”
“Ha,” Peter exhaled, “Maybe you’re right.”
Just then, Peter looks up to see Happy pull up. He turns to Ned and gives him his normal goodbyes, and wishes him and his mom a good weekend, asks Ned to give his mom a kiss on the cheek for him; Ned agrees to.
“Hey, Happy,” Peter greets with a wide smile as he hops in the backseat, chucking his backpack to the car’s floorboard and delicately setting down this two flowers, the paper one and the spiky one, on the seat beside him so he can buckle his seatbelt. Once the belt is secured, he scoops them back up and holds them securely on his lap.
“Whatcha got there, kid?” Happy asks with a quirked brow, Peter usually brought with him poster boards for science exhibitions or models of whatever science or history project he was working on. Never a paper flower and a real-life cactus.
“Oh just some flowers,” Peter replied with a shrug. As sure as he was about giving them to Ms. Stark, he was still nervous. He wasn’t sure how to put it all into words in such a way without embarrassing himself. He was hoping to take the car trip to the tower to figure out what he was going to say to Ms. Stark when he gave it to her. Then he began to panic…
Should I give it to her now? Should I wait for Sunday? Do I wait until after dinner? Do I give it to her before breakfast? What if she’s allergic to the cactus flower or something? What if she—
“Oh, right,” Happy nodded with a thoughtful hum. Peter was speechless. Did Happy know what they were for?
He was quiet for the rest of the trip to the tower, and only uttered a quick thank you before darting from the car to his designated entrance.
“Good afternoon, Peter,” FRIDAY chimed pleasantly.
“Hey, Fri,” Peter greeted quietly, his gaze glued to the gifts in his hands.
“Boss is currently in the shower, just came back from a board meeting.” The AI announced, “She requested you prepare or order yourself food while she finishes up.”
“Okay,” Peter cleared his throat nervously. He had to keep reminding himself that Ms. Stark was someone he could trust with his life. She wasn’t someone who would just walk out of his life over some stupid arts and craft project and a cactus flower. Tony was someone he trusted wholly and she had been very careful to not break that trust. He didn’t have to be nervous around her.
Peter went rifling through the fridge, looking for something to reheat. He automatically grabbed one of the Capri suns there for him and sucked it down as his eyes scanned the food available.
“How old’s this lasagna, FRIDAY?” Peter asked as he pulled out the large glass dish from the fridge.
“Boss made that lasagna Wednesday night,” FRIDAY responded.
“You think she’d mind if I had some?” Peter asked, already grabbing a serving spoon from the drawer with utensils.
“Of course not,” FRIDAY replied, he could almost hear a hint of a chuckle in her voice, “In fact, she was worried about it going to waste.”
“Well that won’t be an issue with me around,” Peter mumbled with a smile as he served himself a large serving onto a plate before chucking it into the microwave. He finished off his juice pouch and threw it away before replacing the lasagna to its place in the refrigerator. He was humming and lightly thumping his fork against the table, waiting for his food to finish reheating when his eyes fell onto the cactus flower again.
Just as dread was about to start swirling in his gut again, he sighed and decided to stop being ridiculous. For now, the gifts would wait in his room until Peter was ready to give them to Ms. Stark. Out of sight, out of mind.
After placing his fork down, the teen fished the card out of his backpack and set it on the counter beside the gifts. Then, he unzipped his backpack and carried the three items to his room on Ms. Stark’s private floor.
He’d had the room for the last three months, and he spent nearly every other weekend there. After Ben found out about Peter’s extra-curricular activities, and he allowed himself to freak out for a couple of days, he decided it was best that Peter spent more time with Tony to get some proper training under his belt. Ben wanted his nephew to be as protected and prepared for anything that could come his way as a crime-fighting vigilante. Thankfully, it was an easy stipulation that all parties could agree on: Peter spends a few days a week (including every other weekend) at Stark Tower, either upgrading the suit’s safety protocols, learning how to properly use said protocols, or training in hand-to-hand combat.
He had massively improved in his fighting skills and he almost never gets hurt on patrol anymore thanks to his training. He and Ms. Stark spend a lot more time together, just as much time goofing around and relaxing as they do putting in hard work. It’s been a crazy last few months and Peter hasn’t been this happy since… well, since before. That had to count for something.
After safely depositing the gifts on his desk in his room, he went back to the kitchen and dug into his reheated lasagna. He was shocked that it wasn’t bad at all. Ms. Stark isn’t particularly known to be a great cook, and the two almost always eat takeout when Peter’s over. But he was also used to the culinary talents of Ben and May Parker, which left a lot to be desired. Maybe that’s what made this lasagna taste so damn good. Before he knew it he was wolfing it down when Ms. Stark came walking in.
Her bare feet padded lightly against the smooth floors as she ran a towel through her long dark hair.
“Hey, kiddie,” She greeted as she grabbed a cup and filled it with water, “How was school?”
“Good, Ms. Stark,” Peter gulped his mouthful with a nod, “No homework this weekend.”
“Why don’t I believe you?” Tony teased with a quirked brow as she sipped her water.
“Would I lie to you?” Peter asked, his voice muffled from the food being crammed into his mouth. Tony giggled and shook her head before pouring him his own glass of water and sliding it over.
“No,” Tony said before taking another sip, “I guess not.”
“This is really good lasagna, Ms. Stark,” The boy said as he scooped the rest of what remained on his plate and shoved it into his mouth. He chewed and hummed pleasantly.
“Oh, thank you,” Tony nodded, setting her towel on the back of a chair sitting beside the kitchen island, “It’s my mom’s recipe.”
“I didn’t know your mom cooked,” Peter said before gulping down his water.
“I didn’t either,” Tony replied as she took Peter’s plate and fork from him, despite his protests, “Ana Jarvis gave me her cookbook after my parents died. Apparently my mom used to love cooking before she had her own family. The lasagna is something I practiced making a lot during my early twenties.”
Tony rinsed off Peter’s dishes before sticking them in the dishwasher. She wiped off her hands on a nearby dish towel and refilled her water cup. If she’s drinking this much water, she must be pretty dehydrated, Peter thought.
“Well, it was delicious, Ms. Stark,” Peter nodded his thanks, “FRIDAY said you wouldn’t mind if I had some, I hope it’s okay—”
“Oh, of course,” Tony assured him with a wave of her hand, “There’s plenty and it’s probably gonna go bad if it doesn’t get eaten soon.”
“Did you cook a lot with Ana Jarvis?” Peter asked, his mind still reeling from learning he had just eaten a recipe from Maria Stark.
“Baked, mostly,” Tony replied, her hip settling next to the counter, “We had chefs and stuff, so Ana showed me how to bake as a way to give me something to do and stay out of my dad’s way, I guess.”
“Did you enjoy it?” Peter asked after he drained the rest of his water, placing the empty cup in front of himself. Again, despite his protesting to do it himself, Tony took the cup and topped it off before returning it to the boy. He tipped his head in a silent thanks before taking another gulp.
“Yeah,” Tony smiled fondly as she thought back to the times she spent with Ana in the kitchen, “She and Jarvis always looked after me well. They were loving and kind. They encouraged me and praised me at every turn. They were very special to me.”
Peter’s throat tightened at the sight of emotion over the billionaire’s face. Her eyes were soft and her mouth was quirked into a content smile. His chest tightened as he saw her think back at her childhood with fondness. Peter was glad she had people who loved and took care of her the way the Jarvises did. He’ll always be grateful they were there for her.
“They must’ve been amazing people, then,” Peter said softly, “Considering how you turned out, they’d have to be.”
Tony chuckled and shook her head, “They were the best. I know they would’ve loved you.”
“R-really?” Peter choked.
“Yeah, who wouldn’t,” Tony shrugged before finishing off her water and placing her cup in the dishwasher, “Maybe I can show you some of Ana’s recipes. She made the best lemon cookies, ugh, they’re to die for. You can take some to Ben and show him I’m capable of feeding you.”
“Alright, so what’s on the agenda this weekend, kiddo?” Tony continued on, “Does your suit need any patching or are we training? Are you low on web fluid? Maybe we should work on a way to pack more volume into the canisters. I don’t like the idea of one running out while your swinging across Manhattan, it keeps me up at night—”
That was all it took for Peter to be filled with the certainty to do it at all and the courage to do it right now. Tony paused in her rambling as she saw Peter stood there frozen staring at her. She couldn’t hear the boy’s heart pounding in his chest or feel the way his throat went dry with emotion. Tony couldn’t know what was going through his head when he seemed to blink tears from his eyes before clearing his throat and saying, “Uhh, I’ll be right back, Ms. Stark. I gotta grab something from my room,” and running off.
Tony stood with a quirked brow and an air of confusion around her.
“He okay, Fri?” Tony asked the empty room.
“Nothing seems out of the ordinary to me, boss,” The AI replied. Before Tony could press, Peter came bounding in, his arms seemingly full of stuff.
“What’s all this, Pete?” Tony asks as Peter set a small potted cactus with blooming flowers, a red and yellow tissue paper flower, and a handmade paper card onto the counter in front of her with a small smile.
“Well, my school was making a huge deal about it, and at first it got me pretty blue. But, Ned and MJ basically forced me to realize instead of being so sad about what I don’t have anymore, I should show my appreciation for what I do have now,” Peter rambled, “So we made these flowers in Spanish class, I tried keeping it from getting squished but it’s a little somber-looking now, sorry. But, I made it myself and Uncle Ben always says that those presents are worth more than anything money can buy.”
Tony stood shocked still looking down at the three items. She wasn’t sure what to make of it, or the kid’s nervous rambling.
“Oh and one of the things that clubs were selling were these cactus flowers,” Peter continued, “My friend Jeremy is part of the Botany club and he told me that to Native Americans, they represent maternal love since they can survive pretty much anything. And cactus flowers are known for their healing properties, too. That represents a mother’s protective quality over her children.”
Tony’s heart swelled in her chest. Of course, it was Mother’s Day that weekend. Ben had mentioned that this weekend was one in particular that he didn’t want Peter to be alone for. Without question, Tony agreed to take the kid for the weekend.
It wasn’t until after FRIDAY had asked her if she still wanted a bouquet of flowers delivered to Ana Jarvis and Maria Stark’s respective resting places, much like she had every year, that it had dawned on her why. Peter was going to spend his second ever Mother’s Day without May Parker, the woman who had raised him and loved him as her own.
Of course, that would be difficult for the kid. And Tony agreed that he shouldn’t be left alone for such an occasion. She figured she’d bug the kid the whole weekend so he didn’t have a free moment to be so sad about everything he’d lost in such a short life. She was also prepared for him to stand his ground and tell her he just needed space to grieve. Either way, she’d be there for him. Just like always.
Because it took one, Peter Benjamin Parker, to crack her in what had to be the lowest of low points in her life. Peter gave her so much happiness and confidence in herself. He gave her more than she’d ever been able to repay him. He gave her something to look forward to, something to live and thrive for. He gave her everything.
And now, here he was, giving her gifts for Mother’s Day. And here she was, choked up with emotion and tears clouding her vision.
“I had never heard of that before,” Peter continued on, unaware of his mentor’s emotions, ”It sounded really nice and Ned had already talked me into making you a card. So, I wanted to get you more than just a little paper flower, y’know?”
Tony willed herself to grab the card and look it over. Tiny little doodles of Iron Woman and Spider-Man littered the outside of the card, as did doodles of burgers and french fries, hot chocolate with marshmallows and pizza slices. Tony could see with one look that the card represented not only their bond as heroes but also as regular people.
Because at the end of the day, after the wounds are patched up and the bad guys are put away, Tony and Peter spent time together doing things any pair of people who cared for another would do. Eating, watching movies, helping one another. That’s what families did. That’s what Ana and Jarvis had done; that’s what Tony and Peter do.
Inside the card, in the kid’s charmingly sloppy handwriting, the words
Happy Mother’s Day, Ms. Stark.
Thank you for always being there for me,
and for letting me always be there for you.
You’ll always be my hero.
With Love, Peter (Kid)
stared back at her.
When she was finally able to tear her eyes away from the card, she saw Peter staring back at her with his eyes impossibly wide.
“Do you, uh,” Peter stammered, “Do you like it?”
“Oh, Peter,” Tony sniffled before pulling the kid into a tight hug, “I love it, honey. You have no idea what it means to me. What you mean to me.”
“You mean a lot to me, too,” Peter said into her shoulder, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, “You were a mom to me when I really needed one. I can’t ever thank you enough for it.”
“If you make me cry any more than you already have, I might have to kick your ass,” Tony sniffled again, her hand coming up to wipe away the fat tears on her cheeks, “I love you, kiddo. I don’t say it enough, but you have to know it’s true.”
“I know,” Peter hummed as he wiped away tears of his own, “I love you too.”
If Tony pressed a kiss to his cheek, if they forwent lab time that night because Tony ended up just crying when she thought about the card again an hour later, if they spent the evening cuddled up on the couch and eating greasy takeout like always, if they spent the next day trying Ana Jarvis’ lemon cookie recipe, if they went out to a noisy brunch that Sunday and stuffed themselves with french toast, and if a month later, Peter still saw the cactus, tissue paper flower, and card displayed on her desk in her office at SI, then that was no one’s business but theirs.
#female tony stark#spider-man#iron dad#iron mom#irondad#ironmom#iron man fanfiction#spider-man fanfiction#peter paker#mother's day
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Hey so I hit 100 followers today!
Buckle up, this is gonna be a LOOOONG post.
I quite honestly expected it (while my ego is a little smaller than my jokes make it out to be it is definitely present), I didn’t expect it to happen so fast.
It’s not an insane milestone, plenty of people have 100 followers. A hefty portion of my followers are bigger than me. But it’s still important to me. Knowing that there’s 100 people out there who enjoy my shit makes me happy.
First and foremost the credit quite honestly has to go to ahegao George Washington. No, I’m not joking. Until I posted on r/tumblr about my desire to draw that, I had 0 followers. I jumped to like 10 overnight, which was awesome. And then those new followers helped me spread my posts and get more attention.
Secondly I’d like to shoutout @imaverysadgirl and @themeaninglessjumble. You two were my first real tumblr frens. You were the first of my followers to really interact with me. Ember, I’m super happy you’re alive to see me hit 100 followers. Jumble (I don’t know your name unless I forgot it), your art and creations are great and you deserve way more attention.
To all the rest of you, you guys are great, too. Every new follower makes me happy. I’d say I don’t deserve you all, but my colossal ego says I do. Regardless, being nemesi and getting called out for being horny on main and sending and receiving asks has made this last month or so great.
Finally, for all the shit it gets, and for all the shit it pulls, [tumblr] really is pretty dope. I got to meet you all, and it’s actively making me a better person by exposing me to groups of people I’d rarely interact with in real life.
Why does it feel like I’m saying goodbye? I’m not, don’t worry. I plan to stay, and neither death nor pain shall drive me from this hellsite. I’m just saying thanks.
Now with the thanks out of the way, I want to talk about myself a little. Just the stuff that I’ve always wanted to say and never quite gathered my thoughts and found the time to talk about.
You’re gonna get to know me so well! This is like a mini autobiography!
First off, my mental health. This is something I don’t talk about much on this blog, mostly because it doesn’t need much talking about. I’m doing pretty well, to be honest. I have a smattering of anxiety and I’m maybe a little too introverted for my own good, but I’m not suffering from depression and the only time I ever even remotely considered suicide was when I just really really didn’t want to go to French class. COVID has been great for me, since I don’t have to see people. I suppose I’m not a great person to talk to if you’re struggling with depression or suicidal thoughts, seeing as I can’t personally relate, but I’m still always here for you guys if you need me. Just because I haven’t lived through your experiences doesn’t mean I can’t try to help.
Next up I want to talk about my sexuality. This one’s a bit of a mystery. For the past 16 years of my life I’ve considered myself 100% straight. But lately (let’s be honest, following the release of Spirit Blossom Thresh) I’ve been wondering if I might be bi. How many times can I joke about wanting to smash sexy boys before it’s not really a joke anymore? And if I am, a lot of things would suddenly make a lot of sense. But every time I think I have it figured out it suddenly feels like I have no clue what’s going on. Regardless, my sexuality has honestly never been a massive part of my identity (though I’m definitely not asexual, my friends can attest I’m far too horny for that). I have no clue if I’m bi and for now it’s kind of a fun little adventure!
I guess I’ll talk about school and stuff now. Believe it or not, I’m kinda smart. I’m taking a shitton of AP courses this year. But I simultaneously feel like it’s too much and not enough. I’m smart, but I’m not a great student. Compared to my dad, who graduated college with a 3.98 GPA (and his only B being in History of Canada as an American) and now has a super well-paying government STEM job that he loves, I feel like even if I work my ass off I’ll never quite measure up. And my parents have had super high expectations of me, and it’s only recently that they’ve started to accept that I might get some B’s here and there. I’m worried about all the homework this year. I’m a year ahead in Math but I don’t feel good enough at math to be taking AP calculus junior year. I’m worried I’m going to get like a C. But for the most part school is alright, too. That’s sort of the trend in my life. Everything’s alright.
Time to talk about my love life! I have no love life! I’ve been single for 17 years and probably stand no chance of changing that until at least college! Haha I’m so alone! But I can live with it. Growing up an only child with a few friends means that I’m pretty good at functioning without a ton of social interaction, and, while I’d like a partner someday, I’m not desperate. I can wait until I find someone. Pretty much my goal is not to die alone.
Onto sports maybe? I played soccer for most of my life, and was always the worst player on the select team. I was too good for the normal team and not good enough for the select team (kinda like math). Soccer was really toxic, especially when you’re the worst player on a team of high school jock drug addict boys. So I quit, and started playing frisbee! It’s a lot better. The people are nicer! But my first season never happened because of COVID and now I’m in my Junior year and haven’t played much frisbee! So I kinda suck! But I’m physically fit and that’s good enough for me! On my own time I bike and run to stay in shape.
Are you still with me? Now I’m gonna talk about my hobbies and things!
I’ve been playing video games for a long time. I kinda suck at them to be totally honest. I probably have below-average reaction time, and my parents only let me play 15 minutes a day for most of my childhood, so I have a lot less practice than most of my friends. I’m pretty slick with Swain in LoL tho.
This next part is borderline shameless self-promotion, but since the Kickstarter isn’t live yet I guess it doesn’t count. I’m making a tabletop role playing game! I’ve been working on it for the past few years. My goal is to launch the Kickstarter prior to my college applications, because that’ll look sexy as fuck to potential colleges. It’s a post-apocalyptic sci-fi game where you play as supersoldiers trying to reconquer the wastelands of Earth for humanity. I’ll do a big post on it when I launch the Kickstarter, and I guess that’ll also be a full name reveal (kinda spooky since my full name is ENTIRELY unique and one-of-a-kind. More ego boost lmao).
And finally I want to talk about my art and writing. I’ll start with my drawing, and finish off with my writing, since that’s what I’d most like to be known for on here (but that’ll never happen because my caveman brain shitposts are too funny).
So I’ve been doodling for a long time. I briefly got formal art training but sacrificing my Saturday mornings to draw what someone else wanted me to make so that I could make better stuff in the future didn’t appeal to my 8-year-old brain. I draw in the margins of worksheets. I draw on random sheets of paper. Recently my parents bought me a drawing tablet, and I’ve been trying to improve at digital art. I’d say I’m getting better, but I don’t practice nearly enough. All in all my art serves its purpose. It makes people laugh and can sometimes creep people out. It’ll never go in a museum, and I’ll never make money off of it but whatever.
And finally, my writing.
How can I talk about writing without talking about reading? I’ve likely read more books than both my parents combined, and if not, it’s close (and my mom is a prolific reader too). I have three bookshelves in my room and books on every surface. You can’t follow me for long without seeing a post ranting about my latest read. I love to read and I read incredibly fast. Reading spurred my love of English class, which in turn helped me write.
And finally, we get to writing in and of itself. I’ve been writing stories since I was a little kid. I’d like to think I’ve improved a fair bit. I’m still no novelist, but I consider myself a fairly adept short story writer.
But I suppose where my writing really stems from is my bed. Every night while I’m lying in bed, I tell myself stories until I fall asleep. I work on a story until it’s done or until I get bored of it. Along the way, in the shower, on my bike, I build the world of the story, crafting the plot. Sometimes the stories are elaborate fanfictions of my latest reads. That’s probably how they started. Often, they’re unique worlds all of their own. My current writing posts are about the City of Mammon, but my current story in my head is about some vampires who hunt other vampires in Victorian England.
And now we get into the process of writing. It’s fun! I sit myself down with an idea in my head, and use all the fancy words I picked up from my books to convey the vibes I want. I honestly wouldn’t be a great writing teacher. It’s just a skill that comes naturally to me as a result of what I’ve been doing with my free time my whole life. And it’s beautiful. And every time someone compliments my writing or reblogs it, I love writing just a little bit more.
Well I guess this is it. The 100 follower special. I wonder how many of you guys will take the time out of your day to read this. Hopefully a lot!
James (or That House) signing off for the night!
<3 thanks guys
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Tadaxel fic for Tadashi’s birthday! 👔🤝😳
And I OOP- I did it. Sorry. No actually I’m not, it was a nice change of pace to write this. I think I might do more CharacterXCharacter fics from now on! I was getting a ’lil bit tired of always doing Main10XScholar fics. Don’t get me wrong though, I love Scholar! I just needed to change it up a bit. (And like promised Olivier is in it too whoops.) This fic is almost 3k words long! ...God, what am I doing with my life? Anyways, have a nice read! 💗💖
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Autumn was starting. The days were getting slightly shorter as time went on and the weather colder and colder. Knowing his friends, Tadashi had warned them about one thing.
”Don’t plan a birthday party for me. I don’t have enough time to celebrate it this year.”
Homework and ”student-body-president-duties” were kicking in so the *one* area from which Tadashi decided to take time away from was his birthday. Everyone found that line of reasoning ridiculous. He always had time for others and for work but never for himself. It was almost as if he loved suffering. The worst part of it was that his birthday conveniently fell on a Saturday this year. It was the perfect moment to celebrate it, Ellie especially was jealous of how lucky Tadashi got and yet he still decided to ”CaNcEL” his birthday. Ellie didn’t have that luxury, her birthday was always during the exam period of the year: in June.
Alistair tried his best to dissuade him and get him away from his desk, the place where he spent most of his day. His BIRTHday. Tadashi didn’t budge. Only when the sunset was setting did he finally decide to step back. Time went so quickly and all he did was working on assignments. He had one last thing left for the day: go shopping. Something that he had ever rarely done thus far. It was about time to learn how to, until now Tadashi was always sent ”shopping” with a butler to ”help him” choose. In reality, all Tadashi did was try on the clothes they ordered him to wear. In the end, all he had for his casual wear was white shirts, ties, dark colored pants and mostly brown shoes. Even if he won’t celebrate his birthday with his friends, he still wants to go out and buy something for himself. More precisely: a set of clothes that wasn’t dictated by his father.
Since a while back, Tadashi always felt like there was a disparity between his taste and those of his classmates. His casual clothes didn’t even look all that ”casual.” When he would go out with his friends, he looked like a coworker taking a break with his colleagues. But last week, reality had slapped Tadashi in the face: he can dress how he wants to. Or more accurately, Olivier had slapped him in the face with this revelation. He was having a conversation with him about the fashion department for some reason, then, Olivier took off his cat mask and looked at Tadashi straight in the eyes. He said:
”Tadashi. You’re free now. You can dress however you want to so please do it. I’m begging you.”
Tadashi was confused. This was coming from a guy who wore a black suit all the time instead of the school uniform. Actually, Tadashi was pretty sure that this was the very first time he saw Olivier’s face. He looked ugly but in a really cute way, he was like slightly above average with a sprinkle of misplaced handsomeness here and there. It was as if God didn’t really know what to do with him and used the ”random traits” button. Anyway, Tadashi wondered how he was a senior and yet Olivier, who was supposed to be one year above him, was still coming to school. So instead of answering what he was asked, Tadashi used his remaining braincells to try and get a response to his urgent question.
”How come you’re still here? Did you get held back a year or...?”
Olivier covered his face with the mask again and closed Tadashi’s mouth with the palm of his hand.
”Sssshhhh. Listen. I’ll only tell you this because I blindly believe that you won’t ditch on me but... I’m actually not a student here. I’ve never been. In reality, I’m a programmer in my twenties. My hobby is to pretend to be a teenager in Arlington, Lady A owes a big debt to my family so she can’t do anything about my presence here. All you have to do is to not tell anyone, okay? If the students find out, I’ll be kicked out for sure. But as far as they know I’m just a weird student who’s been held back in my senior year for 2 years in a row. There will come a day when I won’t be able to fool them anymore but for now, please just play along.”
”Okay.”
After that day, Tadashi pondered a lot about what Olivier had told him...
...
......
.........
”You can dress however you want.”
Yes. That was the one truly important thing he had taken away from this conversation. Thank you Olivier for your wisdom. Tadashi had made up his mind: the day of his birthday he’ll go shopping alone. And that’s what he did.
The curfew was in about 2 hours, in normal circumstances, the custodians didn’t have the right to let the students go out so late... however, if Tadashi had learned *one* thing from his family, it was the use of Privileges™. So using his ”I’m the student body president” card, he managed to step out from the school grounds and promised to come back as soon as he could.
He decided to go check out the most basic stores first just for curiosity’s sake, such as: H&N, Sike, Levy’s, Kalvin Clein, Badidas, etc. Until last year, all he would get was tailored suits and other ”professional” bullshit a teenager shouldn’t have to wear. Now he was finally free to go wherever he wanted, and it’s in the middle of those shops that he came across the one person in front of which he didn’t want to look stupid. A black hoodie on and his hair in a ponytail, he was looking straight at Tadashi.
”...What are you doing here?”
Tadashi instinctively switched to his "fake offended" look.
”Um. Shopping? Like you are?”
Axel glanced at the salmon pink shorts Tadashi was holding, not at all convinced by his try-hard witty remark.
”Oh? So uh, were you aware that it’s fall already or are you buying your summer clothes in advance? ’Cause those pink shorts ain’t gonna cut it to keep you warm buddy.”
Tadashi looked down at this random piece of clothing he was holding and hurriedly put it back while averting Axel’s gaze. He had already made a fool of himself from the very start of their encounter. Seeing that he was clearly embarrassed from the mocking comment, Axel dropped the act.
”No but seriously, why are you shopping alone at this hour? It’s your birthday, go have fun with your friends.”
Thinking about it now, from an outsider’s perspective his actions must look pretty dumb. Begging your friends to not celebrate your birthday, working all day then going shopping alone in the evening for some reason? Every single one of his decisions made sense in his mind but not in the eyes of others. In the end, he had worked himself to exhaustion all day, then he went shopping alone at the brink of the night. Understandably, his actions didn’t seem to make any sense.
”I... I wanted to buy some clothes by myself without the help of anyone else.”
Axel’s confused face turned to bewilderment the moment Tadashi uttered those words.
”*What?* Dude, you sound like you’re twelve. Come on, it’s not like it’s your first time choosing your clothes for your... self... Oh boy. Don’t tell me...”
At Axel’s realization, Tadashi looked down in shame hoping that this moment would come to pass as quickly as possible. That’s right, just make fun of me and get over with it. But instead of mockery or a mean joke, Tadashi felt a strong grip on his shoulders.
”Tadashit, listen. Even *I* can’t make fun of this. We have to fix this problem as soon as possible and we’ll definitely celebrate your birthday tomorrow, okay?”
Tadashi’s mind immediately rushed to all of the tasks he had to fulfill tomorrow.
”But-"
”Shush. No buts. I’m gonna help you buy two or three outfits, we’ll start from there. But eventually, you’ll have to replace all of your horrible wardrobe, okay?”
When Axel finally let go of his shoulders, he then grabbed Tadashi’s wrist and started dragging him out of the shop they were in. Tadashi was mildly fighting back, one part of him not wanting to get help from Axel of all people, another part of him curious of what kind of advice Axel could give him.
”H-hey! Where are you taking me?”
”To Never 21, hopefully they’ll have something that suits you Tadashit. Even if you’re planning on changing up your wardrobe, we’ll start with some really basic clothes though. For example, I feel like something simple and dignified would fit you, you get me?”
”Uh... what?”
Simple and dignified? What does that even mean?
Upon entering the shop, Axel finally let go of his wrist and started looking around in search of something ”simple and dignified.” Tadashi hesitantly followed him, not knowing what to do. He felt like a kid again, the kid who would stand next to the butlers and wait for their decision. That is until Axel picked up a light blue shirt and showed it to him.
”So what do you think of that one? It has a cute little logo on the chest pocket or... whatever those are called.”
”...You’re asking for my opinion?”
Tadashi’s face subtly lightened up as he remembered that this situation was not at all the same as before. He was shopping with a friend, not a butler who gets commands from his father.
”Duh. You’re the one who’s gonna wear this, not me. Frankly, I think that it’s still too tame but you don’t want to stray too far away from what you usually wear, right?”
”Hm. Actually. Can you dress me up in different styles? I want to see what fits me and what doesn’t. You seem much more well-versed in fashion than me, I think that I’ll really need your help.... Please?”
Thrown off by Tadashi’s honesty, Axel couldn’t even take a jab at him. In fact, being able to communicate with him without bickering was quite refreshing. Actually, it was about time for them to stop quarreling for every single thing.
"...Alright. Let’s do that. But just so you know, we’ll probably be late for the curfew. Oh. And you owe me.”
Like promised, Axel dressed Tadashi up in a lot of different outfits. Surprisingly, a lot of things fit him. Even the most unlikely styles, like the ”hippie style” weirdly enough. Or rather, ”bohemian” as Neha calls it.
”Huh. I was planning on making fun of you but you know what? You look good.”
Tadashi felt confused because of the unexpected, but genuine compliment he got. So all he could do was smile awkwardly while looking down at the floor again.
”You think? But I’m not a big fan of this... ”style” to be honest. I’d rather take the one I tried a bit earlier, the one with the pink-ish shirt.”
”Fair enough. Let’s buy that one then.”
Axel couldn’t help but notice that Tadashi may or may not secretly really like the color pink. Maybe it was a subconscious choice, but he would always pay attention to pink, yellow, and green colored clothes. Maybe because he never got a chance to wear bright colors before? He would always be in black and deep blues so he most likely yearned for more lively colors. Thinking about it now, it was obvious that his clothes were always dictated by his father’s tastes. Despite the fact that they used to fight a lot, especially last year, Axel felt a big amount of empathy towards Tadashi and quite a bit of respect for being able to stand up to his father after all of those years of getting manipulated.
At the counter, Axel impulsively decided to take out his credit card.
”I’ll pay for that.”
Tadashi looked up from his own wallet, surprised.
”Wait, really??”
”Mh-hm. It’s your birthday today and I didn’t really prepare anything so...”
The cashier folded the clothes, pu them in a bag and handed them to Axel. Axel in turn, handed the bag to Tadashi.
"There you go... Happy birthday, Tadashi.”
Even if he would never admit it, the sincerity in in Axel’s voice made Tadashi feel soft for half a second. His voice didn’t sound annoying when he wasn’t joking around and making stupid comments. Actually, this may have been the first time Tadashi realized that Axel had a pretty voice.
”Uhhh... Th-Thank uh. Thank you.”
What’s going on? Axel’s voice is pretty? No no no. It sounds annoying and condescending, not pretty. Absolutely not!
While Tadashi was having a crisis and fighting back against himself, Axel was already plannig on moving to the next shop. Like earlier, he tried to grab Tadashi’s wrist and drag him to their next destination. However, his aim was bit off as he did not look down before seizing his target. Tadashi was thrown off once again.
”Uh. Axel...? That’s my hand.”
Axel’s gaze finally went down to where he was grabbing. Seeing that it wasn't Tadashi’s sleeve but his hand, he immediately let go.
”Ah. Damn, sorry dude uhh... I didn’t mean to hold your um...”
The poor boys looked down in shame at their mistake, or rather ”aCcidEnTaL hAnD hoLdiNg.” Axel started feeling the same kind of emotional distress Tadashi was fighting against earlier. What’s happening? Why is it so awkward? If something like this happened at school, they would already be in the middle of cursing at eachother.
”Um. Anyway! Just follow me, okay? I shouldn’t even need to drag you in the first place. Let’s go.”
They tried to ignore that incident as best as they could and moved on to the next shop. In the end, they bought more than 3 outfits. Even Axel picked up some things for himself with Tadashi’s help. Everything was going well until they looked at their phones, remembering the thing they had forgotten.
”Ugh. Shit. Dashi, it’s already 5 minutes past our curfew. But you’ll cover for me, right?”
”Dude, of cour- Wait. Did you just call me Dashi?”
Axel’s mind had clocked out entirely. He looked at his right, desperately trying to look unconcerned.
”Uh. No?”
”... Yes.”
”...”
Axel couldn’t ignore Tadashi’s pressuring gaze. His grey eyes were really convincing when needed.
”Okay fine. But it was only because Raquel often calls you that.”
Satisfied of his win, Tadashi started walking on ahead towards the nearest restaurant with a little smirk on his face.
”Uh-huh. Sure, Axel.”
”Hey! Don’t give me that all-knowing look! Or else I’ll go back to calling you Tadashit.”
”Oh please, you’ll do that tomorrow whether I want it or not.”
Tadashi passed the door and sat down next to a window, followed closely by Axel.
”Dude, didn’t you hear what I just said? It’s past our curfew, we’re already late and instead of hurrying back you sit down in a restaurant?”
Waiting for an answer, Axel stood there dumbfounded as Tadashi gently shot a smile at him and placed his wallet on the table, already waiting for the the waiter.
”Sit down, I’m treating you for your help today... Thank you, Axel. Really.”
Axel’s annoyance was short lived. He really couldn’t do anything in front of this guy’s demanding look. Is that how he always gets everyone’s favors? By looking people in the eye and smiling? As much as he hated it, Axel was starting to understand how Tadashi was so convincing: it was his stupid, dumb, frustrating... pretty grey eyes. Screw him and his ”I know what I want and I’ll get it” look. Screw the curfew, the custodians, all the people who always got fooled by this gaze. But most of all, screw himself for getting tricked too. Goddammit.
Axel sat down with a slight blush on his face that he was trying to hide under his hand as he placed his mouth on his palm.
”You’re welcome. But fuck you.”
----------------------------------
Annnnnd done! I think this one was pretty fun! Not only to write but to read too. Please tell me what you think! I miss the funny comments you guys always left tbh 😂 My favorite part was the aCcidEnTaL hAnD hoLdiNg. Thank you for reading 💗💖
#sweet elite#se#tadashi nakano#axel#fanfics#fanfiction#birthday#tadaxel#yes I’m late again#but at least it’s only a couple of days this time!
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// uhh well after a random and unplanned reblog spree it's safe to say I'm awake for the day and always extra. Can't reblog one positive post or one meme. I need them all. Right. Now. But hey I slept through the night and I'm getting up at 7 am that's impressive for me.
Anyways haha Good morning everyone! Hope you're having a wonderful day! Stretch! Take breaks! Walk around! Drink water! Hydrate! Eat something! Get something good to eat (as in tasty and or healthy). Take care of yourself. Love yourself and others! Be kind and positive today! I love you all! You are awesome, caring, fun, and talented don't forget that.
If you need anything friends you know where to find me! You can always come talk to me about anything! ❤ I'm not always the best at reaching or say stuff that's not Mayson angst or plot but you are welcome to tell me anything! It's what friends are for!
Want to ramble about another fandom you're into? Have a lot of love for a thread and talking to just the other mun isn't enough to contain your excitement? Having a bad day? A rough patch? Did something awesome happen? Is it an average Saturday? You're more than welcome to chat me up! Or don't if you don't want to uwu but know the option is there!
I won't be on much today other than the usual mobile lurking and likes and quick replies and pokes. I have two tests to do for school. But as soon as I get done with them I'll have a month off before I have to do school work again sooo yay! Hank says the sooner I get my homework done the sooner I can go out and play with you guys uwu
Again love you all have a good day! And don't mind my accidental reblog dash spams
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The Grind House - Chapter 8
The Grind House: A Bucky Barnes Fanfic
Series Masterlist
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Buy me a ☕
Character Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader
Word Count: 2166
Rating: E
Square filled: @star-spangled-bingo - Playful Relationship
Warnings: Smut (F/M, oral sex, vaginal fingering and sex)
Synopsis: When Bucky Barnes stops to get coffee and warm up at your coffee shop, he had just expected that caffeine might lift his mood a little.
He didn’t expect to fall head-over-heels for you over a game of chess.
Chapter 8
He came into the Grind House the following Monday. It was during lunch so you made him a white chocolate mocha, toasted a panini and brought them over to the table by the fire with your own lunch and a caramel tart. The two of you had played a game of ‘Codenames Duets’, which he completely annihilated you at. While you had both played you talked about the plans for the week. He thought he had a mission coming up. You were considering buying some more games for the store.
In the final 10 minutes, you'd asked him if he'd come to.game night again. He said the only thing that would keep him away was HYDRA. He’d asked if you might like to go out on Saturday. You had said you'd love to.
That's how it was dating you for the most part. Playing games over lunch at The Grind House most days. He'd come to the game night, sometimes alone, sometimes with friends. Dates on the weekend that were often casual and always involved long makeout sessions. You hadn’t had sex yet. Not because either of you was waiting, but because you were being patient. You were leaving room for his body to catch up with what his mind wanted. He wanted to have sex with you, but the intense way his body reacted to just making out, he worried that there was no way he could get from there to sex without blowing his load. So you did other things. Kissing, dry humping, erotic massage. You showered together. You took baths. He got you off and oh god did you get him off as you patiently went through every kind of intimate touch so he could acclimatize to it.
It had only really been a few weeks since he’d officially asked you on a date but he was falling for you fast. He still had these huge worries about being with you. You were just a normal person who had lived an average life. There had been good and bad but you owned a coffee shop and played board games. You weren’t average by any sense of the word but you were good and untouched by the kind of life he had experienced. He worried that at some point the burden of the things he carried or the life he led now as a hero trying to clean up his past was going to be too much for you and in the end, you’d either get hurt or pull back before you let yourself be hurt.
Only it was exactly all that stuff that he was attracted to you for. You weren’t touched by this. He relaxed when he was around you. He smiled. God damn it, he let himself laugh with you. When he was visited you part of the world, the non-Avengers world, he felt a little bit like the guy he had been before he’d ever put that army uniform on all those years ago.
Which was really odd because he knew for a fact that that guy wouldn’t have been caught dead drinking salted caramel lattes in a place like The Grind House. He was too cool for things like that. He always had to be moving. He always had to show girls how extremely cool and talented he was all the time.
Now though…
Well, now he loved the Grind House. It was like it had been designed just for him. He loved how almost none of the chairs matched. He loved all the different board games and card games. He loved how it smelled. He loved the fireplace. He loved the different coffees and the sandwiches and the cake selection that never seemed the same from one day to the next.
He also thought he might love you.
Or at least he had that first little sparks of what could be love. Those little things that he definitely did love that led to actually falling in love with a person. He loved when you teased each other. He loved when you won a game and got all smug about it. He loved when he won you were always genuine with your congratulations. He loved how patient you were. How funny. How kind. God, the depth of your kindness seemed infinite. He’d never known anyone like that. He’d never known anyone so fearless and yet so absolutely determined to give to those who needed it. Steve came close he guessed, but where Steve had always solved problems with his fists you always went the pacifist route.
So it was there and he was falling hard and fast. It was scary and exciting. Like being on a rollercoaster where the risk was real but the reward was real too and just might be worth it.
Steve, Sam, and Natasha all seemed to think so. They were always pushing for more information. While not everyone always came to the game nights, if those there were in the city, they went with him. They talked him up to you even though, he kind of thought that wasn’t necessary. He wasn’t sure why still, but you seemed to genuinely like him. You didn’t act like you were feeling sorry for him. You weren’t scared of him. It was affection and it was real even if he wasn’t sure he deserved it.
You touched him on the tip of the nose and he blinked at you. “Where’d you go?” You asked.
He chuckled. “Space.”
“Oh yeah? That sounds fun. What were you doing in space?”
He pulled you tighter to him. “Oh, you know? Flying around in a spaceship at light speed. Meeting aliens.”
“Aliens like Thor?” You asked.
“Nope. More bit gelatinous blob monsters.”
You both started laughing and he pulled you against him. “Pity. Thor's hot. Maybe he could have given you some hot alien booty.”
Bucky completely lost it. He couldn't remember the last time he has laughed as hard or as genuinely as he was now. It had to have been before he was taken. Likely before the war.
He tightened his arms around you and nuzzled into your neck. “I love you so much.” The words were out before he realized he'd even said them.
You pulled back and smiled down at him, cupping his jaw. It felt like his heart had stopped. He was sure that was too soon to say it. Even if he did feel it as strongly as he did. You couldn't possibly feel the same way. Taking out the paranoia of no one loving him because of the monster he'd become. Saying ‘I love you’ too soon was relationship suicide.
Your smile was soft and reassuring and you caressed his cheek with your thumb. “I love you too, Bucky.”
It took a moment to process the words. To process that you’d said them back. Not only had you said them back but you had meant them. It wasn’t you trying to placate him or manipulate him. He loved you and you loved him right back.
A smile spread slowly over his face and he leaned in and kissed you. Slowly and tenderly at first before deepening it quickly. Your tongues dancing together as you moved your lips against his. He moaned softly, pulling you into his lap and you rolled your hips against him, his already rock hard cock rubbing through his clothes.
He groaned and bunched a hand in your hair as the other ran down your side and gripped your hip. You pulled back and looked down at him. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”
“Mmm good idea.” He teased and got up, lifting you with him. You squealed and kissed him hungrily as he carried you down to the bedroom he tossed you onto the bed and you let out another squeal as you bounced on the mattress. He laughed and climbed up on the bed after you, crawling over your body and leaning in to kiss you.
You cupped his jaw just before he did and looked into his eyes. “We can go at the pace you want. I have no expectations right now.”
He nodded. “You are too good to me.”
You shook your head. “Nope, you deserve the world.”
He leaned in and kissed you again, deeply and passionately. He wanted you now. His body ached for you, but he knew he was going to need to slow down at least a little. He rutted his hips, grinding down against you.
He broke the kiss and trailed his lips down your neck. Peppering your skin with kisses. He pulled back and lifted your shirt over your head before kissing his way down your body. He wanted to taste you. To make you come. To drink it up before he sunk his dick deep inside of you.
You squirmed under him and ran your fingers through his hair as he kissed down your stomach and pulled your pants down. He softly kissed the inside of each thigh before sucking hard enough to mark them. You moaned loudly and lifted your hips off the bed. Almost presenting your cunt to him, glistening with your arousal.
He hummed and breathed you in as he spread your folds with his fingers and licked his tongue over the exposed pink of your pussy. Wide at first, coating his tongue with your juices. Savoring the sweet and salty taste of them. As you squirmed and moaned and tugged on his hair he focused in on your clit, drawing random patterns over it. Sometimes large and sloppy, sometimes small and focused. Your moans got louder and you pushed him down into your cunt more. He chuckled and sucked your clit into his mouth and sucked on it as he pushed his fingers inside you.
He fucked you with them, curling them and stroking them inside you as he fucked you with his fingers. His senses were being overwhelmed. The sound of your moans filled the room as the scent and taste of your cunt filled him. His cock was hard and throbbing and he wanted to be inside you, but he needed you to come in his mouth. He wanted it badly.
He kept working your cunt, his fingers dragging over the soft spongy surface of your g-spot as he held your clit between his lips and flicked his tongue over it. You arched up suddenly and came. He kept pumping his fingers as he drank up what he could, your fluids running down his wrist and your body shuddered.
You sat up and guided him up with you, still breathing heavily, your eyes blown out with lust. He kissed you deeply and you pushed him back against the headboard of the bed without breaking the kiss. You unfastened his pants and pulled them down, his cock, sprang up and lay against his stomach, rock hard and throbbing. You hummed when you saw it and gently ran your fingers up its length. It jumped and twitched at your touch, sending a shiver up his spine.
“God, your dick is so fucking big.” You hummed as you climbed into his lap.
“I’ve noticed.” He teased and you both started giggling. “It’s partly the serum. Are you worried?”
You shook your head and slowly sunk down on it moaning as the wet warmth of your cunt enveloped him. You squeezed around his cock, sending a shock of pleasure through him, making him moan and buck up into you.
You relaxed your core muscles and slowly began to twist your hips on him. He groaned and looked up into your eyes. It felt like ecstasy. So good compared to anything he’d felt for so long. Even with the gradual build up, it still felt so much better than he had remembered. He leaned down and nuzzled at your breasts. He sucked on them. Pulled your nipples into his mouth and bit gently on them. He moved up, capturing your lips, kissing you hungrily.
His balls tightened and he started to thrust up into you. You rubbed your clit as he fucked you and you moaned into the kiss. Just as he was sure he wasn’t going to last any longer you came again, crying out and throwing your head back. The sudden clenching of your cunt was more than he could handle. He thrust hard up into you and came hard, grunting and burying his face in your neck.
The two of you collapsed down on the be and you curled up in his arms, resting your head on his chest. “Well, I got what I wanted,” You teased, running your hand over his chest.
He laughed. “Just that? I’m sure I could do better if you stuck around.”
You broke down into giggles. “Alright, alright. I guess another time might be okay.”
He chuckled and leaned down and kissed you. He wasn’t sure what he had done to deserve you, but he was definitely holding on to you now he’d found you.
// NEXT
#starspangledbingo#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#the winter soldier#the winter soldier fanfic#fanfiction#fanfic#reader insert#smut#the grind house
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How Double Dragon’s Abobo Became a Beat em up Legend
https://ift.tt/2F8DPGk
In the late ’80s, video games started featuring over-the-top, meaty musclemen. Metro City had Mike Haggar, a shirtless former wrestler who became mayor and decided that being “tough on crime” meant ridding the streets of criminals with his bare hands, his girlfriend’s psycho boyfriend, and a ninja in Nikes. Circus strongman Karnov scoured the world for adventure and treasure, fighting all kinds of mythical monsters. Bald Bull was trying to dominate both the boxing ring and the arm-wrestling circuit. Gutsman was a jacked construction robot who was later rebuilt as a 40-foot-tall tank centaur.
And then there was Abobo, the gigantic antagonist from Double Dragon. He wasn’t THE antagonist. Hell, in the first game, you fight him within the first two minutes. Despite his low-level status, he’s still far more fondly remembered than the main Double Dragon bad guys like Willy and the Shadow Master. There’s just always been something about this random brute that’s made him special.
Abobo’s journey begins in the original Double Dragon, Technos’ 1987 arcade hit. The game’s story is very simple. A dystopian, lawless, post-nuclear war version of New York City has been overrun by a gang called the Black Warriors or Shadow Warriors or Black Shadow Warriors. (They kind of workshop that name from game to game.) Billy and Jimmy Lee are two martial arts brothers whose mutual friend Marian is captured by gang members. Off they go to lay out everyone in that gang with their bare fists and occasional barrel/whip/knife/baseball bat.
While the cannon fodder is mostly made up of normal-sized guys, out walks Abobo, who makes his entrance by punching his way through a brick wall. From the moment he appears on screen, it’s clear Abobo is meant to stand apart from the rest. He has longer reach, takes more hits, can’t be thrown, and is able to throw Billy and Jimmy like ragdolls. The only guy more dangerous than Abobo is Willy, the final boss, who brings a machine gun to a fist fight.
Weirdly, Abobo has various forms in the game. His initial form is as a bald, pale guy with a mustache. Soon after, we fight Jick, an Abobo clone who closely resembles Mr. T. Later, we face off against an Incredible Hulk version of Abobo. This is post-nuclear war, so I suppose this tracks.
But it was NES port that really delivered the ultimate form of Abobo, whose appearance was seriously altered for the 8-bit console. With orange-brown skin, Abobo is still bigger than everyone else, but also looks inhuman. He has a giant, bald head almost the size of his bulky torso, and a black arch on his face that is apparently a mustache merged with a frown! While the NES version had its own quasi-fighting game mode with everyone redrawn with a bigger and better sprite, Abobo looked exactly the same. You just can’t mess with perfection!
Abobo sort-of-but-not-really appeared in the sequel, 1988’s Double Dragon II: The Revenge. In a game filled with giant enemies, there was a guy named Bolo who looked exactly like Abobo, but with long, black hair. Actually, in retrospect, he looks a lot like Danny Trejo.
Huh.
Abobo sat out of the next few Double Dragon games, as the Lee brothers busied themselves fighting mummies and chubby clowns. But he returned in a very unexpected crossover: 1993’s Battletoads/Double Dragon: The Ultimate Team. The game featured a bizarre team-up between the Dark Queen from Battletoads and the Shadow Warriors. As Double Dragon didn’t have too many memorable boss characters that could stack up to the likes of a giant rat in a singlet, they went with what they could get.
As with the other bosses in the crossover gamer, Abobo was depicted as an absolute giant compared to the Lee Brothers and the Toads. He was also very generic-looking, appearing as a shirtless, bald guy with no ‘stache. Due to the sci-fi nature of the crossover, his storyline ended with him getting booted off a spaceship and sent spiraling through space itself.
1993 also gave us the Double Dragon animated series. Somehow, this thing ran for two seasons (26 episodes) and Abobo was there from the beginning. The first episode was a weird Saturday morning-style retelling of the NES game’s plot, down to Billy Lee having to fight his “evil” brother at the end. Abobo acted as a henchman, alongside a very colorful take on Willy.
In the cartoon, Abobo was a bald muscleman with blue skin, meaning he has the same mysterious complexion situation as Captain N’s King Hippo. Abobo was also strangely competent on the show, all things considered, although the only fighting he ever did was throw oil drums at Billy and miss every single time. He spent more of his time annoyed at Willy, who was depicted as a psychotic cowboy with a laser gun — one-half Yosemite Sam and one-half the Interrupter from Late Night with Conan O’Brien.
The second episode introduced the Shadow Master, who immediately showed disgust at his underlings’ failure by magically bonding Willy to a giant mural of punished souls. Abobo tried to run for it, but succumbed to the same fate. The two would remain in that mural for the rest of the series.
While there was a fighting game released based off of the Double Dragon cartoon, Abobo wasn’t part of the roster. It was just as well. Double Dragon V: The Shadow Falls was a really bad game and Abobo had bigger things on the horizon.
Abobo was about to go Hollywood!
In 1994, Imperial Entertainment Group released the Double Dragon movie, a total cheesefest that couldn’t make back its $8 million budget. But Robert Patrick’s scenery-chewing main villain made the movie almost watchable. The story takes place in a version of Los Angeles that’s a cross between The Warriors and No Man’s Land from the Batman comics. Billy and Jimmy are teens who get roped into a plot that involves two dragon-shaped necklaces that form an all-power medallion when put together.
Initially, Nils Allen Stewart plays the gang leader Bo Abobo. As head of the Mohawk Gang, he’s there to act all intimidating in a goofy ’90s bully sort of way, but he really doesn’t actually do much. He takes part in a car chase and teases a fight scene, but nothing happens.
Then, the villain Koga Shuko transforms him into a literal steroid freak with some experimental machine. From there on out, Abobo is played by Henry Kingi in a bloated, rubber suit. Despite being a muscle golem at this point, Abobo STILL doesn’t actually fight anyone and is instead kidnapped by Power Corps.
Abobo eventually sees what he looks like in the mirror. Broken over what he’s been transformed into, he turns on Koga and…still doesn’t fight anyone. He just gives Power Corps some advice to help turn the tide against the bad guys. At the end of the movie, he asks the Lee Brothers if they could be buddies and recklessly drives their car.
Yeah, it’s…almost something. Not the awfulness of Super Mario Bros, but not the good-for-the-time quality of Mortal Kombat. It’s also not quite as fun-bad as the Street Fighter movie, but it does share one major similarity to it.
Much like Street Fighter, the Double Dragon movie had its own fighting game spinoff. Rather than a one-on-one fighter featuring digitized actors (which was the original idea until it wasn’t deemed viable for the deadline), Technos put together a Neo Geo animated fighter that isn’t so well-known these days due to how run-of-the-mill it was. It looked like your average SNK fighting game, with no real identity of its own. The game was released for arcade, Neo Geo CD, and PlayStation.
The 1995 fighting game was loosely based on the movie’s plot and featured some FMV clips. Showing up from the movie are Billy Lee, Jimmy Lee, Marian, Shuko, and Abobo. The rest of the roster is made up of original characters, though Technos did redesign Burnov, the Big Van Vader-looking boss character from Double Dragon II: The Revenge. Abobo more closely resembles his initial, more human-looking form from the movie, complete with mohawk, although he’s cartoonishly big in the game. Fortunately, he occasionally transforms into his blobby, tumor-like mutant form during certain moves and winposes.
His ending in the game features him eating a lot of meat at a restaurant, demanding to eat meat so rough that it’ll make his teeth bleed. Heh. And Roger Ebert said video games aren’t art.
Read more
Games
Double Dragon and Kunio-kun: Retro Bundle Coming Soon
By Rob Leane
Games
Double Dragon 4: Story & Multiplayer Modes Detailed
By Matthew Byrd
After the inexplicable crossover, animated series, failed movie, and fighting game tie-ins, Double Dragon as a franchise was finally spent. As the arcade scene died down in the late ’90s, the side-scrolling beat ‘em up disappeared for a time, and it would be a little while before nostalgia for it would kick in.
Fortunately, there was still some juice left in the fighting game genre, and in 2002 the Neo Geo had just enough time left before SNK’s hardware line was discontinued. The company Evoga developed what was, for a time, meant to be a Double Dragon fighting game, but ultimately the team wasn’t able to secure the rights and was forced to make the game with a knockoff cast of characters. The result was Rage of the Dragons, a tag-team fighting game featuring Billy Lewis, Jimmy Lewis, and Abubo…
Abubo does not have a tag partner and is instead a mid-boss so powerful that it takes two opponents to stop him. He’s depicted as a low-level mob boss with a ponytail, sunglasses, pink tank top, and overly-long, muscular arms. It’s a decent enough redesign of the original, but…Abubo? That’s the best they could come up with?
As for the official Double Dragon, it made its comeback a year later. Double Dragon Advance for the Game Boy Advance took the original arcade version, updated the graphics just enough, added more stages, enemies, and attacks, turning this installment into a souped-up take on the classic. This of course meant the return of the real Abobo!
2012 would be a banner year for the musclebound henchman. Since 2002, I-Mockery’s Roger Barr had been trying to develop an Abobo-based fangame, and in early 2012, the free-to-play masterpiece Abobo’s Big Adventure was released to the public and we were better for it.
Using 8-bit graphics, the game follows Abobo as he searches for his kidnapped son Aboboy. Each level is based on a different NES title and features a dizzying amount of Easter eggs. There’s a Double Dragon level, underwater Super Mario Bros. level, Urban Champ, Legend of Zelda, Balloon Fight, Pro Wrestling, Mega Man, Contra, and finally Punch-Out. The game is an absolute blast, especially for anyone who grew up with the NES and features such whacked out moments as:
Abobo mating with the mermaid from Goonies 2, which gives him a forcefield powerup made up of Abobo/mermaid hybrid babies, one of which begs for death!
An Abobo vs. Amazon wrestling match that includes the summoning of Hulk Hogan, Ultimate Warrior, Roddy Piper, and Undertaker assists in the form of Pro Wrestling sprites.
Taking on Krang’s giant robot body with Kirby in the abdominal area.
An incredibly long and over-the-top ending that gets extremely and laughably violent. If you’ve ever wanted to see a muscular child drink blood from the Shredder’s dismembered arm, this game is for you!
In terms of OFFICIAL nostalgia, 2012 also saw the release of Double Dragon Neon for the PlayStation 3 and Xbox 360 (and later PC). Using 3D graphics, the game was a modern update of Double Dragon’s playstyle while playing up the 1980s aesthetic. It was a lot more ridiculous than the original series. In fact, it’s more in line with the Battletoads crossover since this game also lets you launch Abobo into the deep recesses of outer space to die.
This game also gave us the first – and, as of this writing, only – polygon Abobo. This time a towering, hunched over brute with lots of spiked armbands. All that AND the mustache!
But of those two 2012 releases, Abobo’s Big Adventure is surprisingly the better game in terms of its portrayal of the big man, as it solidified his status as nostalgic beat em up icon.
In 2017, Arc System Works put together Double Dragon IV for the PlayStation 4, Xbox One, Nintendo Switch, and PC. Rather than emulate the arcade original’s aesthetic, the game took its art style from the NES games. That meant the return of the classic NES Abobo as not only a recurring enemy but an unlockable playable character. Double Dragon IV actually lets you play through the story mode as various enemy characters, but honestly, who else would you pick in that situation? Well, maybe Burnov.
Sadly, playing as Abobo in Double Dragon IV leads to a non-ending. I know you can’t improve on “Abobo punches Little Mac’s head off so hard it transcends time and space,” but at least TRY!
Around the same time, another game tried to play up Abobo’s ironic/iconic status. River City Ransom: Underground was released for the PC in early 2017. The River City Ransom series has always had ties to Double Dragon, but this high school brawler goes the extra mile by putting Abobo on a big pedestal. First off, he’s the school principal. If you attack any of your teachers, you’re sent to Principal Abobo’s office to suffer a serious slap on the wrist, shoulder, jaw, spine, etc. Sometimes he’ll even enter classrooms by punching holes through the brick walls, all while shirtless and talking like the Hulk.
Even better than that? Abobo’s not only the school principal but the Mayor of River City! No wonder everyone’s always kicking the shit out of each other! God bless Mayor Mike Haggar for being a true trendsetter.
The Double Dragon/River City connection only grew stronger when 2019 brought the absolutely must-play River City Girls. As the story goes, River City Ransom heroes Kunio and Riki have been kidnapped, so their badass girlfriends Misako and Kyoko go on a violent rampage to save them. Early in the game, while Misako and Kyoko fighting in a classroom, there’s a projector playing a short film about a boy learning about puberty.
It just so happens that the kid in the video is being taught by Abobo, who thanks puberty for his monstrous size and strength. This, my friends, is foreshadowing, as Abobo shows up later in the game as a boss.
Misako and Kyoko confront Abobo about their missing boyfriends, and Abobo admits that he isn’t sure whether or not he kidnapped them since he kidnaps a LOT of people. They throw down and we’re treated to the most powerful take on Abobo yet, considering the length of his life bar. Once defeated, Abobo admits that he has nothing to do with the missing boyfriends, but gives the heroes a lead by talking about his side job as security for an upcoming concert.
In 2020, Arc System Works released a collection for PS4 and Switch called Double Dragon & Kunio-Kun Retro Brawler Bundle. It collects 18 8-bit games, including the three NES Double Dragon games, River City Ransom, and all the old spinoffs from the River City Ransom universe. And who’s on the cover?
Yes, despite technically being in one game out of 18, and not even being the final boss of any of them, Abobo gets a major spot on the cover of this huge collection among the games’ hero characters. Finally, the world understands that Abobo is a star. Now we just need Abobo to appear in Guilty Gear Strive and then we’ll really be cooking.
The post How Double Dragon’s Abobo Became a Beat em up Legend appeared first on Den of Geek.
from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/2Gl5jJ9
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— BASICS.
▸ IS YOUR MUSE TALL / SHORT / AVERAGE? : she’s pretty short, but average for a girl – five foot three!
▸ ARE THEY OKAY WITH THEIR HEIGHT? : hell yeah! she’s little but she’s mean, alright. she can kick ass, and she takes pride in the fact that she doesn’t have to be a bulky big foot to do that. however, she finds it a little inconvenient at times, specially if she falls for a tall guy ( does this even need specification, honestly ).
▸ WHAT’S THEIR HAIR LIKE? : it’s naturally wavy, but never curly. depending on air humidity, it gets more wavy or straight. her mom had very strong hair, so for most of her life lana’s kept her menace long and silky, in some sort of tribute to her. the first time she cut it real short, like, shoulder-length, was when she finally got to abaddon and managed to avenge her parents’ murder. then she let it grow and in later seasons she just wears it short like that. here go the three possible scenarios.
▸ DO THEY SPEND A LOT OF TIME ON THEIR HAIR / GROOMING? : not really. she doesn’t spend much time worrying about her appearance – she usually lets her hair do its thing. at most, she’ll make her waves more prominent with a curler for parties or special occasions.
▸ DOES YOUR MUSE CARE ABOUT THEIR APPEARANCE / WHAT OTHERS THINK? : as stated above, not really. yes, she has a constant desire to be fit and prepared, but that’s mostly just for health and for her job. she thinks there are way more interesting aspects to her than her appearance, so if she isn’t someone’s type/favorite person, she doesn’t fret over it. dhe is a firm believer that people come and go but the right ones tend to stick around, so she just lets the law of attraction do its magic. she feels she has enough to worry about as it is to start fussing over first impressions and whatnot.
— PREFERENCES.
INDOORS or OUTDOORS? RAIN or SUNSHINE? FOREST or BEACH? PRECIOUS METALS or GEMS? FLOWERS or PERFUMES? PERSONALITY or APPEARANCE? BEING ALONE or IN A CROWD? ORDER or ANARCHY? PAINFUL TRUTHS or WHITE LIES? SCIENCE OR MAGIC? PEACE or CONFLICT? NIGHT or DAY? DUSK or DAWN? WARMTH or COLD? MANY ACQUAINTANCES or A FEW CLOSE FRIENDS? READING or PLAYING A GAME?
— QUESTIONNAIRE.
▸ WHAT ARE SOME OF YOUR MUSE’S BAD HABITS? : dwelling in the past is her biggest one. her nostalgia has gotten her in some really dark places, but considering there was a time in her life when all that was good and pleasant was in the past? she ocassionally needed the trip down memory lane to keep herself going. in present time that bad habit was died down considerably, but she still hasn’t moved past it completely.
then there’s also her habit of isolating herself from the outside world, due to her abandonment issues. it’s another thing she picked up in that confusing and scary time in her 20′s, and sometimes it’s just too exhausting for her to invest in people that could very well leave her at any second. BIG abandonment and trust issues she also actively tries to move on from.
▸ HAS YOUR MUSE LOST ANYONE CLOSE TO THEM? HOW HAS IT AFFECTED THEM? : the loss of her parents at such a young age pretty much shaped her entire existence. as stated above, it made her believe everyone she really loved would end up leaving her, and it developed into serious abandonment and trust issues. it also made her feel very insecure about who she was? mainly because there were questions she never got to ask, answers out of her reach. like, did she love tacos because her mom liked them, or because she ate them while pregnant? was she decent at juggling because her dad had good eye-hand coordination? sure, she had her aunt to ask up until she was eighteen, but there was only so much she could answer.
but there were also positive and essential aspects to that loss. it made her want to be worth the trouble, give to the world and the people around her all she possibly could in the time she was given. she wanted to compensate for making it out alive the night they were murdered, and above all, she wanted to make them PROUD, so she always felt she had a bigger purpose than just going to college and becoming a clinical therapist. that’s why her later-discovered family legacy and hunting made all the sense in the world to her. such a big loss made her want to be a light in the world, and help people the way she couldn’t be helped that night. it made her compassionate, self-sufficient, relentless, and very empathetic – all very important personality traits for the woman she is today.
▸ WHAT ARE SOME FOND MEMORIES YOUR MUSE HAS? : brief flashes of holidays with her parents. the warmth of her mother’s smile when she first saw lana walk. her dad’s soothing voice when he sung her lullabies. saturday morning shopping sprees with her aunt nell. any of the Winchester’s sporadic visits following her parents’ funeral. her first kiss. stargazing with sam on sleepless nights and then falling asleep on his shoulder without a fault. honestly, anything sam-related. her first successful hunt. fun bartending nights at the roadhouse. random karaoke nights with dean, or katherine. driving up to the nearest beach and letting the water wash over her feet for hours. pizza nights at the bunker. and that’s just on the top of her head.
▸ IS IT EASY FOR YOUR MUSE TO KILL? : no. it’s never easy for her to watch the life vanish from someone’s eyes, but most of what she kills was already dead to begin with, so she accepts it. she saves way more lives than she takes, and that’s what matters.
▸ WHAT’S IT LIKE WHEN YOUR MUSE BREAKS DOWN? : it takes her quite a bit to break down, but when she does, it’s chaos. she holds it in for as long as possible, but once it’s out, it’s all shades of sobbing and repressed angst. if she’s more frustrated than sad, she hits things just to try and get rid of the anger obstructing her chest, she screams into pillows, she falls on her knees, etc. When she’s more sad than frustrated, she sits on her bathroom floor and sobs it out, then gets back up again and acts like it never happened. but it did. and my girl could use more hugs, tbh.
▸ IS YOUR MUSE CAPABLE OF TRUSTING SOMEONE WITH THEIR LIFE? : yes, she is. it takes her a while to trust someone so much, but it’s very possible. plus, she tends to prioritize others’ lives over her own, so it wouldn’t be a stretch to say she’d put herself on the line for the greater good if push came to shove.
▸ WHAT’S YOUR MUSE LIKE WHEN THEY’RE IN LOVE? : she can be a bit jealous and insecure, but when she loves, she loves HARD. she puts everything she’s got into it, and she’s your best friend and your fiercest supporter, no matter what. honesty will never falter, and you can bet she’ll be the most faithful and loyal woman on the planet. a hopeless romantic, too, so you can expect some really sweet gestures and surprises along the way. lana as a lover is understanding, committed, compassionate, fun, forgiving, and reckless when it comes to protecting her partner and keeping the relationship afloat. however, most of her tries at love have failed, due to the fact that she’s only been truly in love ONCE, and she doubts that one man will ever stop lurking in her heart. so, to any other contenders for lana’s lifelong affection? good luck. you’re gonna need it.
REPOST, DON’T REBLOG PLEASE!
TAGGED BY: the lovely @spitfcre
TAGGING: anyone who wants to!
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So, @kimmycup tagged me in this game. Let’s do this. Alternately titled:
Let me rant about the difference in receiving feedback on FFN vs AO3
Because I am really getting lost in the math behind “most popular” fic. And it’s most definitely more than just “reaching a different audience” when the feedback for one and the same fic differs between over 1k comments on one site vs not even reaching 100 comments on another site.
Author Name:
Takara_Phoenix
Fandoms You Write For:
Okay so let‘s only involve the ones I am still actively involved with, not the ones that are like... eight years old and I haven’t thought of them once, yeah? That’d be: Percy Jackson, Shadowhunters, Marvel, Rise of the Guardians/How to Train Your Dragon, Detective Conan/Magic Kaito, Vampire Academy, Jungle Book, DC Comics/the Arrowverse, Descendants
Where You Post:
AO3 and FFN, but occasionally also on tumblr - when it’s prompts or drabbles
Most Popular One-Shot:
Depends on where you ask. And what you define as popular. Personally, the only value I see are in comments - kudos are literally just the press of one button, they mean nothing, and hits aren’t an indicator of much either considering it counts as a hit even when you opt out after a paragraph.
I’ve only had my AO3 for five years now, meaning that the fics on FFN still had four more years to simmer on there and gather attention, I suppose. Meaning, a fic posted for the first time obviously gets more attention than a four years later mass repost on another site.
On AO3, the oneshit with most comment threads would be How to Court the Prettiest Omega Ever in Five Years or Less, my first PJO ABOverse fic, featuring Nicercy. Which, you know, is only 37 comments on there. Seriously I genuinely blame the existence of the kudo function for the overall lackluster comment-response on AO3 because “press one button vs actually writing words”... but that’s a different conversation to be had. (I mean, seriously, in comparison, this fic has 51 comments on FFN... and it is by far not the one with most comments I have over there).
The clear winner if you look at FFN is Something Went Wrong, my first Minotaur/Percy smut fest with a whooping 116 comments. And yes. Positive. Genuinely did not expect that when after weeks of debating, I decided to post this story. *chuckles* (Again, for comparison, this fic got a total of 8 comments on AO3... eight... the difference there is staggering... Which, I’d like to tag on that, on top of the kudo-nonsense, the fact that AO3 displays total amount of comments to the readers and not comment threads is also misleading and I don’t think it helps, because I think you’re more inclined if you see it’s only 8 comment-threads in total on a fic you like vs it showing you 16 comments as the total comment-count.)
Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story:
THIS IS TOO HARD TO ANSWER. I’d have to consult my chart, but that hasn’t been updated in ages. Because overall amount of comments means little if you don’t also take into account the amount of chapters - 50 comments on a oneshot are a lot, 50 comments on a 5 chapter fic, not so much, and 50 comments on a 50 chapter is frustrating to receive.
Okay, let me go full nerd on this one. Y’all know I love charts. There was a time where I was interested enough in finding this out that I had a chart going of all my multiple chapter fics. With a collumn on how many chapters the story had at that point in time, how many total comments on AO3, how many total comments on FFN and what, by combining those two numbers and dividing them through the chapter-count, was the average amount of comments per chapter.
However, that chart had last been updated on December 31st 2016. There’s been a lot of influx, lot of new stories and other stories gaining/losing popularity, so when I now say Meet the di Angelos with a 2016 average of 57,25 comments/chapter, that is completely exclusing ten fics I wrote since then.
Damn now I really wanna update the charts...
Also if you can’t tell by now how much actual feedback and comments mean to me, I genuinely don’t know how else to convey it... xD”
If you go by total comment-count - which, again, is misleading because you gotta keep the chapter-count in mind - it’d be Chasing Fireflies on FFN with 1749 comments (on 102 chapters. And, again, for comparison, 88 comment-threads on AO3. 88 vs 1749 is insane) and Percy and the Ghost King of Summers High on AO3 with 749 comments (on 50 chapters. On FFN that’s actually on 990 comments. Far smaller difference here compared to other stories).
Though I dunno, if you measure popular by fanart received, Summers High comes in with five, while my Chasingverse is in with 6... and multiple fanfictions written for it.
Favorite Story You Wrote:
Favorite to write, or favorite to reread? There’s a difference there. I’m insanely proud of Chasing Fireflies and the plot and world I created there, the character development. I... don’t really reread it it’s over 500k long I don’t have that time.
Currently, I am really loving The Primal Instinct, it is sooo much fun to write, I get to put basically all my favorite headcanons in there, I’ll get to write Aline and Helen more and Jace’s interactions with others, it features both my favorite OT3s at once. (And it is faaar from my most popular one. Just, feel like mentioning this because my numbers-obsession may read as only writing for comments, which I don’t, I mainly write for myself. The comments are just... very, very nice treats to receive. Also, I love numbers and charts and were curious to see if there is a kind of trend there in what does receive most attention sooo...)
Story You Were Nervous to Post:
Uuuh every new thing. Every time I step outta my comfort zone. Trying out a new pairing for the first time. Venturing into a new fandom for the first time. Experimenting with a new kink and wondering if this would be too much. Literally every single time, still.
How Do You Choose Your Titles:
On a whim. I suck at titles. Mostly I try to force alliterations because I am a sucker for alliterations, but otherwise I do try to go with “as it says on the tin”, or I try a pun/being clever. Aside from my Triton/Percy fics. Every single fic I’ve written for them is named after a song from Disney’s The Little Mermaid franchise and I have yet to run out of songtitles to use for fics and hey, by then they’ll probably have included a new song in the live-action remake so there’s that! :D
Do You Outline:
Depends. Oneshots? No. I just write those. Multiple-chapter fics? ...Depends. xD
If I have a clear vision for where it’s going to go, I do tend to divide into chapters and make myself small notes on what goes into said chapters. Mostly, it’s just a rambled “and x happens and then y” at the end though and then I see how I can make it fit into chapters.
Complete:
795 stories on AO3! Damn, I’ve been busy.
In-Progress:
As of right now, 4. Because this week features my Ace Awareness 7-parter, though technically we’re right now down to 3 multi-chapter fics because the next one is only due to be released and join the rotation!
Coming Soon/Not Yet Started:
Well, that is two entirely different things now.
Coming Soon:
Shadowhunters, Asmodeus/Jace, “The Royal Consort of Edom” oneshot on the 23rd
Shadowhunters, Magnus/Alec/Jace, “Nesting 101″ oneshot on my birthday this Saturday
Percy Jackson, Nico/Percy, “Something Borrowed, Something Green” oneshot on the 30th
Shadowhunters, Magnus/Jace, “Dancing with the Monsters in the Night” an out-side-of-schedule oneshot for Halloween
And I do think that that is what constitutes “soon”.
Not Yet Started:
HTTYD/RotG, Hiccup/Jack, “The Origin of the Blue Hoodie”, planned for November 27th
Shadowhunters, Magnus/Jace, “Set-Up by the Guard-Cats”, planned for December 4th
Descendants/PJO, Nico/Percy, Ben/Carlos, Uma/Audrey, “Demigod Defenders of Auradon”, planned for December 11th
A-and that is as far as I have planned my schedule ahead. Those three are the only fics on my personal schedule that I haven’t started working on yet. I don’t like to plan ahead too much, because then you just completely lose interest in the story by the time you get around to actually writing it.
Do You Accept Prompts:
Prompts, not so much. Requests, yeah. For one, prompts always seem so demanding, while requests are more polite - and also more structured. Prompts are always like “here have one quick trope thrown at your head” and like... I do have a well-enough planned-out schedule with more than enough fics of my own set, I don’t need to try and turn one random prompt into an actual story. But if someone has a specific request, a pairing and an actual plot, that they really wanna see, I do always hear them out, I may not always like the pitch and thus not accept them all, but on the overall I do accept requests.
More inclined to accept birthday requests than random requests, because random requests would be put into the rotation of my schedule and, well come on that shouldn’t be a surprise, they tend to be pushed off then in favor of fic ideas I came up with myself because there’s nearly always more enthusiasm about writing an idea that you came up with yourself than the idea of someone else. Whereas birthday requests have a set date that doesn’t disturb my schedule and I am a big softie who has a weakness for getting gifts myself so I do like to do something nice for someone so they get something special for their birthday.
Upcoming Story You Are Most Excited to Write:
Most excited to write? Well, that’d be the Descendant/PJO crossover atm, because that is something very new and shiny and I do love shiny, new things to experiment on. But also The Prince of Pluto, my next multiple-chapter fic that I have already started writing.
Tagging: Whoever wants to do it! <3
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Tagged by @a-kid-named-hiro and @tuliharja. Thanks for the tag guys!!
Nickname: Crystal
Zodiac: Libra
Height: Somewhere around 5'6"
Age: Closer to 30 than 20
Time: Never enough to get everything done
Fave bands/artists: Fall Out Boy, Mariana’s Trench, Panic! At the Disco, Linkin Park, Green Day, My Chemical Romance, Natewantstobattle on Youtbue, and others I can’t think of off the top of my head
Song stuck in my head: Several jumbled into one confusing song XD
Last Movie I Saw: I honestly can’t remember
Last Thing I Googled: Tobirama strikes Izuna down
Other blogs: Nope! I can barely keep up with one XD
Do I get asks? Sometimes and it always makes me smile!
Why I chose my username: It’s my username on other sites so for simplicity I just used it again. I can’t remember why I picked it in the first place XD
Following: 34
Average amount of sleep: It varies, most nights is 5-6 hours, other nights it’s as few 3 hours (those suck the worse), rarely I’ll get 8+ hours of sleep.
Lucky number: 13 :D
What I’m wearing: Pajamas!
Dream job: Not sure, maybe getting paid to write fanfiction? Being an animator would be awesome to. Or being the crazy cat lady would be fun too XD
Dream trip: I’d love to go to Japan or London!
Favorite food: Pizza or Pasta!
Play instruments: I used to play the clarinet
Favorite song: Immortals by Fall Out Boy, Just One Yesterday by Fall Out Boy, Stay Frosty Royal Milk Tea by Fall Out Boy, Hold Me Tight or Don’t by Fall Out Boy, The Killing Kind by Mariana’s Trench, Your Ghost by Mariana’s Trench, Fallout by Mariana’s Trench, Stutter by Mariana’s Trench, Say Amen (Saturday Night) by Panic! At the Disco, Don’t Threaten Me With a Good Time by Panic! At the Disco, Heavy by Link Park, Teenagers by My Chemical Romance, and a lot more!
Played any sports? Does avoid social situations and all my responsibilities count?
Hair color: Blonde
Eye color: Green
Most iconic song: ^see my favorites songs^
Languages I speak: English, some Spanish, and like 10 Japanese words XD
Random fact: Cats only meow around humans to get our attention.
Describe yourself as aesthetic/things: I’m probably doing this wrong, but chaotic neutral, hermit crab, grumpy cat that secretly loves you
Tagging @raendown @kaiyaru @theintellectualweeb @artbythedarkside @dominaaurum @dahtwitchi @writhingbeneathyou and anyone else who wants to do this!
#tag game#random facts#most of my favorite songs come from 3 bands#that probably surprises no one#dnd reference#i play sometimes#my dm has been too busy for like a year though XD#Crystal talks
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Thought I'd try a different type of alternate universe
The Twitch Streamer AU
Subtitle: One small change can make a huge difference
I’m Kazukoh, and I guess you can say I’m a leynet celebrity. Despite being born with a metabolism-afflicting chronic illness, I’ve managed to blossom in my own right.
I guess you can say much like another prodigy born a season or so after me.
Though outside of my diagnosis, my life was fairly average. My Grandma Miimii was horribly injured during a lab accident, and we thought she wouldn’t make it, but she pulled through. If anything, I owe my success to her for being there for me when Mom and Dad can’t.
Went to college, Dynamics, specifically, did an internship with Terranexic after my graduation, as my revolutionary power source that was my final project had all of the Golemancy Krewe’s eyes on me. I remained with Terranexic after my internship as a lab assistant until a position in a relatively small Krewe opened up.
The Krewe I joined was one that made custom Golems for people who were less versed in Golemancy-or were physically unable to put them together. We occasionally also got bulk orders of standard issue Golems, since we could put together simple ones in a relatively quick manner.
It was on one of those bulk-order days that Golemancer Klikk asked the Krewe Chief if we could use the projection-screen terminal to play some videos in the background, since today’s bulk order was extremely simple. Our Krewe Chief, being the generous leader she is, approved. Klikk navigated to a leynet site called “Stream.Ear”, and put on a Calamity tournament, between a handful of Statics-backed teams. Given that I enjoyed playing videogames in my spare time, I thought perhaps I could do such a thing.
~~~
Headset, check. Terminal, check. Motobox and capture card, check. Layout. Check. Leycam, check. Going live now.
“GOOOOD EVENING, GENIUSI AND GENIUSETTES! Golemella here, coming at you live with Super Adventure Box! Yes, folks, the home edition of Super Adventure Box, with 8 completed worlds-but only normal difficulty! I’m not just going to beat it, I’m going to attempt to beat it as fast as possible!
And beat the game, I did, since I’ve been playing for as long as I can remember. While it wasn’t even close to a top 100 on leynet records, it was a fairly decent time.
“And that’s that! Sorry it’s so short, I’m just here to test the waters, but I’ll be back tomorrow night! May all your games be winners, and may all your theories be sound!”
~~~
I’ve gotten quite into the groove regarding content releasing, especially now that I have affiliate status and can get money from this. While my job with this Krewe has good pay and decent benefits, I often allot most of my paycheck to an emergency funds account, given my medical issues, so there isn’t much left for leisure. I do have time for leisure, my Krewe is off 3 days a week, but which days vary depending on scheduling and tasks, but I stream all 7 days a week because I find it fun. I even have a schedule-at least for 6 days. Fun Fridays are party games with my viewers, Speedrun Saturdays are speedrunning games I grew up with, or have played a ton of-not trying for Tyrian records, but just for personal bests, Storytime Sundays are for visual novels, Mondays…I’m not sure yet, so I mainly just play what I feel like that day, Teamwork Tuesday is cooperative Leynet games, Wildcard Wednesdays I pick 3 random games and let my viewers vote on them, then play that for an hour before the process starts again, and finally, ‘Thunder’ Thursday, which is competitive leynet games.
What I’m about to dictate happens on one of those Thursdays.
A viewer of mine gifted me “Tyrian All-Star Battle”, a PVP game where you play as major figures in Tyria’s history, heroic or villainous…well most figures. One great hero has not enough records of their battle style, and the Pact Commander declined their role. Destiny’s Edge and Dragon’s Watch are in, however, as are many high level Pact members from recent history. I tend to alternate between Taimi, Snaff, and Dragon’s Watch!Rytlock, depending on if we need a support, DPS, or tank, respectively. You play in teams of 6, you have a main and secondary of each role (I often play secondary since my mains can take other roles if needed), and winning depends on different win conditions-either most points after a set time limit, or last team standing after a limited set of lives.
I chose Taimi for this set of matches, since I was playing with a team I signed on with, called Damsels in Dynamics, which is all female Asura streamers whom graduated from Dynamics, and we commonly play a team of all Asura heroes-and we already had a Snaff. My other teammates were Zojja, Warmaster Efut, Agent Zrii, and Steward Gixx. Our first matchup was against Team IGD-Inquest Gaming Division, a meta-team for the meta-krewe, though thankfully this was just six of them. They were playing Kudu, Kuda, Teyo, Tazza, Vebis, and Frizz. Kudu’s player was also a streamer, known as “TheBloodyDirector”, and was pretty much the ‘face’ of IGD. We were completely destroyed. TBD took out all of the Snaff and Zojja players’ lives alone, thanks to Teyo’s player taking out Gixx’s player early on. I was pretty much the only one healing, and since Taimi is not a high tier support, led to Zrii’s player getting wiped fast as well. It was down to me, and Efut’s player. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see my chat was blowing up to the point that my own fans could barely even speak. While I was trying to figure out the chaos, my last life was taken. Efut’s player struggled to hold on while I sourced this bomb. It was not a raid at all-TBD’s fans decided to swarm my chat. And he did nothing. This. Means. War.
Every day I would check his channel, and it seems he streams on Mondays and Thursdays, but only plays competitive games on Thursdays (Mondays seem to be clearing single player feats in said games). Every Thursday, I’d rally viewers to help defeat him as one of the matches/games of the night. And every time, I would fail. The closest I got was 4 members defeated before I, as the last one standing, was wiped out, and yes, this was in Tyrian All-Star Battle. That seems to be the game we usually battle in, though we’ve occasionally duked it out in others.
~~~
Another Thursday, another battle. I checked TheBloodyDirector’s stream…and turns out, he’s not streaming today. Instead, he’s hosting another Inquest member. I didn’t catch her name, but she’s advertising doing something called a ‘mukbang’…but she’s just slowly eating a single cup of instant noodles while doing paperwork. I then looked up what a mukbang really was….and immediately hit paydirt. People watch others eat monstrous amounts of food? Sign me up! Now I know what to do on Mondays!-well that, and social eating, depending on my funds during the week. But for now, I’ll just play some casual competitive matches with my viewers.
~~~
Monday came, and I had some extra money stored up, so I ordered 25 family sized buckets of Metrica Fried Moa, sides included, some curtains to obscure the hospital related things in my room, and a fancy leycamera. Hung up the curtains, my multipurpose Golem (A project from my spare time that transforms into various mounts, a hoverchair, or a Scruffy-like Golem) carrying the food, and I installed the leycam, running a quick test with it. The test was perfect, let’s go.
“GOOOOD EVENING, GENIUSI AND GENIUSETTES! Golemella here, and now I know what I’m doing on Mondays. Every Monday is food related! Normally this’ll be social eating, but today I’m doing something special. Some days, like today, will be mukbangs.” I then pulled each and every one of the buckets and sides closer. “I’ve got 25 buckets of Metrica Fried Moa here, and I’m going to eat ALL OF IT. RIGHT HERE. ON STREAM.”
I was shocked. People were HYPED in chat. Some people were worried that I’d fall ill, some others were concerned about my appearance, but nobody was mean. Most people were hyped up to see me eat all this food, and I sure gave them such. I ate ALL of the food on stream, engaging with viewers all the way. However, if anyone asked how I could do this, I kept it a well-guarded secret.
~~~
TBD wasn’t streaming this week, so I organized a spontaneous tournament between myself and a handful of my viewers in Tyrian All-Star Battle. Rest of the week was uneventful, as was Sunday. Monday on the other hand, was my first normal social eating stream. I sent my Golem out to bring back takeout-this time from the Canthan place near Mom’s lab-I moved out and into an apartment owned by the hospital out in Soren Draa, but visit often-and then started up the stream.
“GOOOOD EVENING, GENIUSI AND GENIUSETTES! Golemella here, we’re doing social eating tonight! I won’t be eating as much as I did last Monday, but it’ll still be a sizable amount, since there’s more focus on you, the viewers, my intellectual fans.” I smiled, waving at the camera. I began to interact with everyone, and things were going well. At least, they started out well. The food hadn’t come yet, and I was starting to grow hungry. I kept speaking with fans, answering questions, engaging in conversation, but it was not to last. My stomach growled. Loudly. And the mic picked it up. My face went dark purple and I was completely silent…but the chat. Alchemy’s Catalyst, the chat! Someone made a BETSEAR emote and uploaded it, and the entire chat was spamming it. That did get a slight chuckle out of me. The Golem soon arrived, with food, and I dug in, profusely apologizing as I did. But they didn’t seem to mind, thankfully.
~~~
I started feeling horrific after work one day, but I felt I was still up to streaming. Thought I’d do a Just Chatting stream since I didn’t think I could play a game, either competitive or otherwise-thankfully it wasn’t a Thursday.
“Hey, everyone. Sorry for no game today. I haven’t been feeling the greatest today, so I’m just going to take it easy. But enough about me, how was your day?” I asked, my voice still on the weak side. Questions and answers didn’t go super fast, unfortunately, as my vision started blurring a bit, and I was growing more and more confused.
The next thing I noticed was I was in my bed, hooked up to IVs, and there was a bowl of soup being placed in front of me, atop a tray. I glanced over to the terminal as I ate, and the stream feed was off, but the chat, there were people constantly asking if I was alright. I didn’t get a chance to even let them know what happened until a few days later, since I was resting, not working or streaming, and was under care of a new doctor-one whom watched my streams.
~~~
Even despite everything, I still practiced and practiced, getting better and better at Tyrian All-Star Battle. I was determined to beat TheBloodyDirector at his own game. Loss after loss, some completely wipeouts, others just close. Until that fateful day, where I decided to try Zojja out. I’ve found another hero I love to play. I got into a 1x1 match…against TheBloodyDirector, as, you guessed it, Kudu. And yes, he was streaming this day. Someone suggested in my chat that we hook up, and I was shocked. I heard him splutter over voice comms as well, so I suspect he got the same suggestion. No, random viewer, not happening. But despite this, the match was HEATED. And it was CLOSE. We were neck and neck, if he killed me, I’d kill him shortly after. And given that this was a time match and not a stock one, it was tense. But finally, the timer was up…and I had won. By one kill. Finally…sweet victory against TheBloodyDirector.
(A/N: You thought I was some random writer, but it was me, Kazukoh, this entire time!
Also I'd like to thank ProtonJon, StephenPlays, and Wahnthac for (unintentionally) showing me how Twitch works, and @lewn-acies for the idea for this AU!)
#asura anon#gw2 fanfiction#week five#au / free#asura#gamer au#long fic#...i want to play dragon’s watch! Rytlock#submission
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