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n7punk · 1 year

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"City of Angels" Fic Notes

CoA is done! This was a fun little ride. It ended up a bit longer than I predicted but this is the first fic in a while that didn’t become a runaway so I’ll take that. Actually nvm I just checked and I predicted this fic would be 15k. Oops. The share link will be up later tonight, but for now, here’s the fic notes!

Playlist:

My playlist for this one was less emotional stuff and more “LA sucks” songs, so it’s shorter, but honestly it worked really well. For me, a playlist is something that either 1) helps with the mood/ideas while I’m writing or 2) something that makes me WANT to write when I hear it because I tie it to those ideas, so the LA songs actually worked really well even where they were less relevant. The emotional songs are all centered around the breakup/conflict at the beginning, but the playlist still worked.

City of Angels — Em Beihold.

LA — The Veronicas.

Arizona Pretty — Kailee Morgue.

The Very First Night — Taylor Swift.

Strangers — FLETCHER.

I’m Not Mad — Halsey.

Good Idea At The Time — The Wombats.

MODERATION — Lilyisthatyou. (I’ll be honest I think I added this when I was writing the club scenes as, like, the kind of background music they would be hearing to get in that mood because it’s not relevant to the rest of the fic, but it is a banger lmao)

Epilogue Life:

For a while, Adora and Catra are infuriatingly vague to the press about each other. They’ll go to events together and act like a couple, telling stories and clearly knowing each other well, but they just get all mysterious when asked questions. Eventually, after many months of dating, they’re a bit more willing to talk about their relationship. At that point they confirm that they are dating and later admit that they went to the same acting school, having known each other since they were kids. It takes a long time — “coincidentally” shortly after Catra’s career really solidifies her as someone to watch for years to come — before it comes out that they were foster kids with the same guardian who trained them in acting. They basically just say “yeah, she was our teacher so it was kind of like being in class 24/7” and don’t comment on it further. They (well, Catra at least) would love to dig into Weaver, but saying anything bad about Weaver is basically signing a ticket to have her try to sell every one of their secrets she knows. The closest they get is when someone bothers Catra about the “mutual guardian” thing with her then-fiancée and she basically snaps “that was not a family, that was a boarding school. We were not her children or siblings” and the clip ends up online. Mysteriously, they never hear anything from Weaver in retribution, but DT soon after stops having a favor owed to them at two different tabloids.

Adora and Catra both settle into each other’s places and lives. They keep calling their places “Catra’s apartment” and “Adora’s house” for a long time because each is definitely more owned by one of them (both legally and practically), but in daily life it really has morphed into the apartment in the city and the private house passed the edges of town. Their relationship rekindles beyond where it used to be and, despite them never really publicly “clarifying” their relationship once they’re on the same page about being traditional girlfriends, everybody treats them as a couple up until the point where they get married and become wives instead.

For a while Adora remains more famous/ubiquitous than Catra, but her career peters down over time while Catra diversifies and has such a range she becomes one of the go-to magicats in Hollywood. Adora is very happy with her moderate success and wildly successful wife, though. I don’t remember if I kept the “joke speculation” about this in the fic, but eventually Adora leaves show business to direct a small children’s theater group with the love and warmth she was missing in her own education. She loves it. She loves working with the kids, she loves the low stakes of community plays, and — as referenced in the fic — she loves stage acting.

Catra keeps up in Hollywood all the way until she’s a gray fox, always attending her award shows with her wife on her arm, which is pretty much the only time Adora steps back into the limelight. Adora had her fun, but her own mental health does better in her new career path. It barely pays, but that’s what Catra and Adora’s old investments/savings are for. Occasionally one of her kids really goes down the Hollywood path and Adora does a little networking for them.

Chapter 1:

⦁ Neck kissing is enough of a thing for Adora that it was a total red flag that it wasn’t doing it for her and I find that hilarious.

⦁ Catra’s reputation for calling shit out really bit her as soon as the public picked up on her interaction with Adora. The theory Adora was secretly racist was slowly gaining some traction within Catra’s fanbase, as well as outside of it when that seemed more scandalous — ie, profitable to talk about — to gossipers/tabloids. Catra had been avoiding Adora for years as she built herself up, but when that started spreading, she reached out for Adora’s sake as much as hers. Being friends with some of Adora’s friends, all the stories she has heard seemed to show Adora as she remembered her and not some egomonster twisted by fame, but even starting to wonder if the Adora she loved still existed and their relationship could be repaired, she stayed away until she had a name of her own to stand on. Partly because of pride and partly, yes, because of the stupid superstition.

⦁ Catra was really trying to puff herself up for the encounter, scared of Adora getting under her skin again, but the end of it really threw her off. She made the dig about Adora’s talent and realized — at least a bit — how much it hurt from the way she retreated, and then Adora backed down which she doesn’t do, and then she said she missed her and left. It was the first step to Catra really starting to consider her again.

⦁ When I went to write the first chapter end note, I realized you could easily consider DITM, ASGNE, and SaD “celebrity” fics, not to mention stuff like 5GR that brushes up against fame in some other way, or even SLAS with the socialite aspect. I only really consider DITM and maybe ASGNE celebrity AUs, though, with the others just dealing with some level of fame or notoriety in their specific area (cosplay, sports, etc).

⦁ I was supposed to do a whole fic extra about this, but I didn’t, so I’m just going to whack it up as a block of text here regarding Adora’s reputation and public perception: Adora came out of nowhere and played a kind of a-typical character to be the lead of an action series. She was so similar to her character and dorky in interviews that she immediately grew a very attached fanbase. You know that gif of Jennifer Lawrence looking at Anne Hatheway at the Oscars “like she’s a unicorn” because she’s fangirling herself that everybody reblogged back in 2014 or whatever? Yeah, that exact gif exists of Adora and was kind of the vibe that inspired her public perception here. That and the girl who played April Ludgate saying weird shit in interviews. Adora seems ~quirky and relatable and down to Earth~ (AKA doesn’t know how to cultivate a public personality or censor herself) so she gets a lot of fans pretty quickly. She has this cocky thing that works for lesbians and this “girl next door” vibe that works on everybody else, so she keeps getting “typecast” in those roles because that’s what everyone wants to see her in and her fans will follow her from movie to movie without hesitation when those similarities are there. Of course, the truth is taking on a totally different character is difficult for her, but between auditions for other stuff not working out and more of that fair calling for her, she has been legitimately typecast at this point. She’s way too honest in interviews and it works out for her. Everybody feels connected to her despite how there are sides of herself — the fragile ones — she never lets anyone see, and she’s a household name with her face synonymous with an entire franchise.

Chapter 2:

⦁ Perfuma was there to make sure they didn’t end up hooking up in the bathroom as much as she was standing guard, it’s just that no one ever said that to Adora. Perfuma was supportive of them reconciling now she was getting to know Catra better, but she thought that just might be counterproductive to it.

Chapter 3:

⦁ Catra knew there was a chance of them meeting at the party since she closely associates Randor’s name with Adora. She assumed Adora wouldn’t happen to be on the other side of the country to come to the party, but it was in the back of her mind as a possibility, so she wasn’t that surprised when Adora showed up. Mostly she was grateful for someone she could seem like she was engaging with socially while really she could just relax.

⦁ I rarely put Catra in skirts but in this case it was insurance to make sure her tuck never showed or anything.

⦁ Imitation is part of my larger universe of fics, with it being one of Catra’s movies that she won an Oscar for in DITM. Gunmetal was one of her movies in that fic, and later one of Sea Hawk’s in ASGNE (he was also in it in DITM), and in this fic it’s the third of Adora’s trilogy of movies.

⦁ Catra’s name being “Beth” in her breakout role is once again a reference to the “her real name is Elizabeth” joke from crew.

⦁ Alright the premise of Adora’s breakout trilogy is basically you have a classic action guy who’s secretly a spy and he’s in love with his next-door-neighbor (Adora) who he greets in the hallway every morning. And then in the first ten minutes of the movie he goes missing, and Adora accidentally witnesses suspicious activity at his place and then he never comes out to greet her in the mornings anymore and it starts her down this track of investigating for herself and finding his secret spy gear and going on a mission to rescue him without any knowledge of the spy organization he actually worked for. The whole movie there’s this assumption by the audience that she loves him back and that’s why she’s going to these lengths. She talks with another character about how they’ve known each other since high school and you think oh when she rescues him there will be a confession, and then she does rescue him and, when he’s finally in the movie again after an hour and 42 minutes (at no point was he shown before that so the viewer is just as unsure as Adora whether he’s still alive), it’s revealed she was his babysitter back in the day (she’s a few years older) and she sees him like a younger brother and has no connection to him like that, on top of being a lesbian with a girlfriend he didn’t know about because it turns out he really didn’t know that much about her at all having only had some conversations with her in the hall after they happened to move into the same building after going to different colleges. It’s partially a joke and partially a commentary, although not as progressive as it’s going for considering they casted a 20-year-old for the female lead and an almost 30-year-old for the male despite him supposedly being younger because in Hollywood women HAVE to be young and attractive. It does solidify Adora’s character though, because she went through all of this just for a guy she once knew as a sweet kid and that she was worried about. The sequels are set up by his spy agency inviting her to join them at the end of the first movie since she proved herself by rescuing one of their own. It’s a good button on the end of a single movie and was also a great setup for sequels when they were greenlit. The last two movies have an overarching story connection with the agency turning out to be corrupt and his capture was an inside job, though they can be viewed individually. He’s, once again, barely in the movies and has been demoted to deskwork (which does end up giving him a critical moment where he witnesses something at the office that blows the corruption open, so he’s still important but not the focus). Adora’s struggles with balancing her secret life with her girlfriend are a sideplot in the sequel and in part III they’ve broken up due to Adora being a shitty girlfriend (big oof, Superzero parallel there but it also hit too close to home for in-universe Adora) and she’s gets a new love interest in the form of a sidekick. At the end they basically found their own agency together after taking down her old one. Lesbians love the power dream. In the first movie (and in later movies, but especially at first where she isn’t a part of this world) the character Adora is playing is basically… herself, but with action hero skills, which is why she was cast, because basically as soon as the team saw her audition they were like. That’s the girl. That’s who we’re trying to get someone to play and that just is her. The movie ended up being successful enough that it spawned a graphic novel followed by a comic book series which ran for years and kind of went off the rails into cloning and shit. Typical comic weirdness tbh, but the technology in the comic is noticeably more futuristic (and impossible) than that in the movies. It’s almost like the comics are set 60 years later.

⦁ Catra started blockers and hormones younger than… like 99% of trans people. Part of there being less transphobia means it’s easier to realize your identity and a Lot easier to get access to healthcare, so her natural voice isn’t deep or anything, but when Adora talks about it getting rough that’s Catra letting go of the training she has done to keep it controlled, not just in pitch, but also in cadence.

Chapter 4:

⦁ The tabloid website description is based off my (likely inaccurate) memories of the one time I stumbled into an article on the extremely trashy Perez Hilton gossip magazine website. My memories of it are that they were being truly disgusting about how a like, 16 year old Disney actress was dressed.

⦁ Being that this is a transphobia lite AU, name/gender change process stuff is better and more effective. Catra got her birth certificate and everything updated at a very young age, so unless someone wanted to dig specifically into name change orders from the county she grew up in the year she did it, it would be very hard to find out she used to have a different legal name or gender.

Chapter 5:

⦁ There’s a lot of talk about Catra being “more” talented, and while it’s right, it’s relative. Adora wasn’t cut out to be a great actress. She has honed the skill until she was capable of doing it, but Catra is more naturally inclined towards it and, having had just as much time to hone her skill, is still better. That doesn’t make Adora untalented, it just means she’s not naturally inclined to acting and she was set up to a losing game when Weaver made sure that was the measure by which she valued them and taught them to value themselves. Of course, Weaver still views Catra as mediocre (because she “doesn’t apply herself” and “surfs on talent without honing her skill”) and she views Adora as having the dedication, making her more favorable, but not having enough because otherwise she would perform better than the “lazy” Catra. She also just views Adora more favorably because 1) she does well at stage-acting, an art Weaver’s shitty intellectualism views as superior (in the way that people writing Adora’s biographies in twenty years will say she was even greater than anyone ever knew because she was a good stage actress too), and 2) talent or not, Adora got more roles, and more results meant she was clearly better. Whatever Adora’s technical faults, Catra’s sour attitude was clearly holding her back. If Catra would “just change” then she could finally live up to her potential, and thus she must be personally spiting Weaver by holding back. Weaver’s view of the world is very self-centered.

⦁ Part of the reason Catra said “never again” despite liking the dance was the possibility of them being seen. It would be easy for the tabloids to paint her as a toy or somehow to diminish her worth with it. The rest was that while it was hot, it could become problematic behavior if it were in a pattern — and maybe behavior in line with the selfish, attention-hungry version of Adora she built up in her head when they broke up.

Chapter 6:

⦁ Catra sends Adora that smile after mentioning sleeping in a limo because she’s thinking about how they almost hooked up in the car, it just kind of went over Adora’s head.

⦁ Alright, hybrids and makeup. So far mentions of Catra’s makeup in others’ fics where she’s “supposed” to be human are the number one immersion breaker for me in those (because I just imagine Catra as a magicat regardless) but I do think hybrids could/would wear it. It varies by species obviously (lizardfolk essentially have scale paint they can wear and claw polish/strains, but nothing else that looks traditional beauty products), but a lot of the hybrids could wear some level of the typical stuff. There’s kind of three camps on Catra’s appearance (full fluff, general fluff but not on some places like faces and hands, or no fur just skin). Obviously in the third she can wear all regular beauty products, but it’s noncanonical and not my usual interpretation. I guess I’m somewhere in between them, but either way the skin just around her eyes could probably take fairly traditional products, and she could wear things like blush if there were a special style of product for it that doesn’t exist in our world to accommodate fluffy cheeks. As such, I think wearing lipstick or eyeliner isn’t out of the question for Catra ever, but things like eye shadow and blush get more iffy depending on your interpretation, and foundation is pretty far out there. All that “possible hybrid products” stuff established, Perfuma’s line has a lot of stuff like that included and that’s part of why Catra was talking about the differences in formula for their different kinds of skin. And if you always picture her hairless then I suppose she was just talking about the colors on different skintones to you.

⦁ I had a whole thing I cut out from this chapter about how Catra transitioned under Weaver but I deleted it for the transphobia. I’m going to cover it here, but like, trigger warning. Basically, context matters a lot, so stuff that’s just problematic for reasons unrelated to transphobia in their world is awful in ours. With it being socially acceptable, Weaver didn’t have a lot of reason to say no to Catra’s transition other than it being expensive, which led to things like Catra borrowing Adora’s clothes until she had outgrown the ones she already had and Weaver would let her buy new ones from the right department now she had to spend the money anyway (did they look much different than the ones she already had since neither of them are super femme? No. Did they feel better? Yes). Adora mentions Catra doing HRT young, which was absolutely what Catra wanted, but the part I cut out was that this was one of her few choices that Weaver fully supported her in. Support is kind of a bad word, though, because the reason she approved was she thought that Catra needed to transition as early as possible if she was going to do it because otherwise she might not fit beauty standards and not get any parts. Growing up ugly might as well be every pageant mom’s worst fear and has little to do with gender in-universe, but IRL this is just horrible. There’s so many people who have thought that they couldn’t/shouldn’t transition because it was “too late” and I didn’t want to include anything like it in the fic. I’m only including it here because I’ve previously thought about how controlling Weaver would be in a situation where either of them transitions (in AUs or canon) so I had to think about what would lead her to supporting it and keeping it “a secret” in this AU over the years of Catra’s fame. At this point revealing Catra is trans wouldn’t gain Weaver anything other than making Catra uncomfortable about strangers knowing her deadname or just thinking about her genitals at all (I’ll never forget that Laverne Cox interview where the interviewer thought for some reason they could/should ask about if she had bottom surgery and she just had to laugh it off and say “I’m very happy with the situation down there” without clarifying).

⦁ Regarding timing, my trans headcanons for them fall in line with my sexuality headcanons for them. Catra knows and falls young, but Adora takes a lot longer and might need a big push. In the case of transitioning, Catra realizes very young she’s a girl and is insistent on the fact no matter what others try to tell her. Adora tries to push through it and doesn’t understand why she can’t live up to macho standards or whatever (or never feels like she is, anyway) until eventually enough shit piles on and the realization breaks that she never wanted that set of standards anyway. She would absolutely be the one to be like “Well I’m just Aware™️ of toxic masculinity because I listen to my female friends so much and that’s why everything feels wrong, no need to question the masculine part tho!” with her blinders on full force.

Chapter 7:

⦁ Adora is continually baffled by Catra’s ability to not measure things or use a recipe.

⦁ Entrapta is primarily a VFX and CGI artist in this verse but not a force on Earth could stop her from hacking sometimes.

⦁ Part of the reason Catra wanted the site down was for Adora’s sake. She knows the joke bothers her too.

⦁ Chapters 5, 6, and 7 are interesting because they all contain a scene that was originally in one of the others. They saw a lot of rearranging, which is the main reason I took three days before posting chapters 4 and 5 as I got 5/6/7 settled. I’m ordering this by how things originally started and putting where they ended up in parenthesis. Originally, Chapter 5 had the morning after scene (CH5), an Instagram scene (deleted, I’ll explain in a sec), the the aquarium scene (CH6), photoshoot scene (CH6), and the confession scene (CH6). Then the fic rolled right into the final chapter, 6, with the talk show (CH7) and Clawdeen scenes (CH7). More stuff from the final epilogue was planned to come after but by then I had new ideas and ended up inserting two new chapters to accommodate them. The cut “Instagram” scene featured Adora seeing Catra with the Star siblings on Jewel’s Instagram story and wondering about where things stood with her and Tali. She tried to focus on her shoot, but that night Catra texted her for a booty call and Adora accepted. It gave Adora some confidence that Catra was coming to her when Tali was more convenient, but she also didn’t know if Catra had just struck out. The truth was that being around someone she used to hook up with got Catra thinking down those lines again (horny) so she called Adora up. This felt like too early or them to hook up again, though, and writing that scene got me thinking about the dynamic between all three of them, which gave me the idea for the club dance scenes. When I initially wrote them, they opened chapter 6 following the confession scene and were really different. It didn’t fit with them already being “official,” even if it was casual. I didn’t want to have two scenes centered around the Tali thing either since it really wasn’t a big deal in their lives, so I cut the earlier Instagram scene in favor of the dancing and moved it to before the confession by moving the photoshoot and confession back to chapter 6. I also wrote the scene in Catra’s kitchen at that time (originally opening CH6) but moved it back because (conversely) it didn’t fit with them not being together yet. That’s when Chapter 6 took it’s final form in the fic. I changed the concept of Chapter 7 to go from “wrap up/epilogue” to “public interacting with their relationship” with epilogue following in Chapter 8. I moved the kitchen scene in to 7 and paired it with the talk show and Clawdeen scenes for the final version in the fic. Whenever I moved a scene, it needed rewriting to fit within the tone of their relationship in its new place in the timeline, but sometimes that was the entire reason I moved scenes. The club/dance scenes did not feel like they took place when their relationship was confirmed, so I moved them back to before it. The scene in Catra’s kitchen didn’t feel like it took place before they were confirmed because Adora should have been freaking out about the implications of people thinking they were dating a lot more, so I moved it after. All these moves still required tweaks, but I think everything flows way better where it is now and the chapters (5, 6, 7, and 8) are all decent lengths rather than the final two chapters turning out to be behemoths. After writing this note, I realized I had to go back and rearrange bullet points in my fic notes too since the relevant scenes had moved LOL

Chapter 8:

⦁ The reason Adora’s house is so far out is because that’s what it takes to get a quiet neighborhood where no one will rat her out to the press. Some of her neighbors recognize her, but so far everyone has been chill.

⦁ I’m putting it here because I kept waiting to squeeze it into the fic and I never did so this is my last chance: Weaver’s “backstory” in this is that she wanted to be a Hollywood star and thought she had gotten her big break when she was cast in a soap opera that showed promise. Season one was so bad it crashed hard and almost sabotaged the careers of anyone associated it. Still, hate watching numbers are still numbers, so it came back for a second season that had such low viewership numbers (since it wasn’t even interesting enough for hate watching really and that kind of thing always has a limit) that it was canceled halfway through and the rest of the filmed episodes never aired. Weaver pretty much never got cast in anything again. When she started to age, she “accepted” it was over since Hollywood likes young and beautiful women. She became an acting teacher, and after one of the children from her first set of classes went on to get a successful role, Weaver saw the dollar signs and the chance to maybe grasp at a fraction of the fame she wanted. She decided to foster two potential cash cows and try to raise them up with her as their stage manager so she can directly attribute their success to her (this was as important to her from a personal vindication standpoint as it was a financial one) and finally say that she clearly had what it took to make it in Hollywood since she could steer others through it, she just got unlucky guys :(

⦁ Before I wrote anything for this AU I predicted it would be 5 chapters and 15k, but by the time I went to post it that... was obviously wrong and I said 6 chapters at 30k. It ended up at 38k and honestly at this point I'm calling that win with my history.

⦁ Okay this AU. is interesting. Normally I would put an “Original Outline” at the end of the chapter summary but this one is really brief so I’m just tacking it onto Chapter 8. The idea for this AU came when I was listening to City Of Angels and went “the Catradora vibes are so here,” so I put it on my possible AUs list as just “City of Angels AU” and moved on, waiting for that idea to catch. A few months later (back in February or March probably?) I randomly got the idea for — essentially — chapter 4. I outlined the award show scene with the stupid golden touch joke, them talking on their date (though when I outlined it the conversation had no context) and then them in the car and going home together after “some party.” I had other fics at the time that I was working on, so it had to wait in line, but it was really stupid and fun. I didn’t have much overarching planning ahead of time, so there’s not much to go over other than stuff like the changes around Chapter 5, 6, and 7, but I will say the old plan was for the stuff I labeled as CH5 to, well, be in chapter 5 and then the final chapter would be award show stuff and them at a party together. As I was writing I watched Eddy Burbank’s video on the death of late night TV and added the interview scene (I find those a lot of fun anyway so it was kind of glaring that one was missing in hindsight) and then the Clawdeen scene just kind of happened and led to other changes. The final scene of the fic was outlined before all the major changes that added two more chapters, but it just added to the roster of scenes that required the buffing out.

Upcoming:

So. Here’s the thing. I kind of promised I wouldn’t do something a long time ago and like, I’ve dabbled adjacent to it, but now we’re. we’re just doing the damn thing. So the next AU is called Trade Today For Tomorrow. And it’s going to be up like, in the next day or two probably. Because I’m insane. I wrote over 7000 words in one day. Actually I did something similar for this project, I had like two 6k~ days. I’m in my unhinged era.

#im fucking INSANE for my next project so i had to edit this so i could post it and be able to start doing that #i mean i finished CoA 4 days ago. ive just been posting every other day while i work on the new thing since its fucking long #but brrrrrrr its almost time so lets get this up tonight #coa #fic notes #ficmeta

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sinligh · 2 years

Text

Tonight, just another eternity for me to go skinny dipping in the abyss of my unprocessed emotions.

I’ve been gathering the days planting them, like seeds in my stomach. Growing up trees that I don’t know how to take care of.

Dragging them,

Along with heaviness of today and yesterday, hoping there will be enough space for me to bury them tomorrow.

To bury any of me. Or all of me, One body after the other.

Somehow, i managed to create a path full of moments that I should’ve dissected, long before I made my way through

And I don’t know where it ends

I don’t know where i ended

To begin again…

It’s still June,

“It is June and i am tired of being brave”

But I promised I’ll make it up to myself,

i’ll read and paint the summer away, I’ll read until the only proof of my existence is the trace I’ll leave between the pages. I’ll read until real life loses its meaning. And then I’ll redefine it by painting

Maybe I’ll write too, but mainly I’ll paint…

I miss painting,

Spelling my guts with brush strokes turning it into something i can see, hoping that someday I'll understand myself a bit more when I look at the mess I created.

•••

•Quotes: Camille Rankine/terry pratchett/Madeline Miller/Anne Sexton/Rainer Maria Rilke/Margaret Atwood.

•original context: Sinligh

•art reference:

1.painting by Eliran Kantor. 2. An Ode to the Moon by Nona Limmen. 3. The tea bag a self portrait by Janne Kearney. 4. Sir John Lavery R.A.| The Glasgow School of Art. 5. Art by Marta lendo, 2010. 6. Women Reading Quick Study by David Hettinger. 7. Ludwig Knaus - Self Portrait, 1890. 8. "Girl Running with Wet Canvas", 1930, Norman Rockwell. 9. (Russov Lev, 1926-1988).

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whatdoesshedotothem · 2 years

Text

Sunday 22 July 1832

6 35

11 35

dullish finish morning F61 ½° at 6 50 – out at 8 ¼ - walked to Whitehall and along the new Leeds and Wakefield road (it will be a very pretty drive) ten minutes beyond Westfield chapel beyond where the road is yet made but it is in progress and may be opened perhaps in the spring – home in 2 ½ hours at 10 ¾ - breakfast with my aunt afterwards a little nap – from 12 5 in an hour read the service and the 1st of our volume of Mr. Knights’ sermons – ate some strawberries in the garden and came to my room at 1 ¾ - from 2 to 3 5 wrote 3 pages and ends to M- beginning to be uneasy at not hearing from her - fear from what she said of having always had a pain in her stomach since her being this time York that she has got the cholera - beg her to write if but a line or 2 - whether her plans are fixed or not - shall be satisfied to hear she is well – ‘What a pity you could not leave your people in the minster court, and come here for a few days, or any other possible time! But our destines are held by abler hands than ourselves; and you are always first to teach me contentment with the things that be’ – Cholera bad again in Paris know not what I shall do about it - good hopes of my steward’s recovery, but it will be long before he can look after things as before and I must stay ‘till all the building concerns, repairs and etc are wound up’ - sat at the conclusion ‘I have far too many workmen, and do not expect to get rid of them all much before Xmas’ - ‘Harriet told me she would call your little niece Mariana and I am pleased at her doing so but it is you, not I, who ought to choose which of her a nice girl, and I see no reason to doubt of your success - your observation on the 2 other girls, are certainly not flattering - but Mariana is not likely to be much with them, that I trust you have not to fear from your example’ - wrote the above of today and from 3 ½ to 5 ¼ wrote 3 pages and ends and under the seal to Mrs Norcliffe - chit chat - great deal about little ask to be told the first intelligible word he utters except papa and mamma and if the meaning of add it can ever be discovered send my love to Rose and kind remembrances to Mr Robinson Cholera ‘as bad as ever again in Paris – I know not when I shall get back again – my steward is rather better and there is great hope of his recovery so that his life may be prolonged sometime - but I fear he will never be very strong and I am determined

SH:7/ML/E/15/0097

to see all my building concerns, repairs etc done before I leave home again. I have been led into far more than I intended, or than is at all convenient, but all I can do now is to get out of it as well as I can, and as I see no prospect of this for 2 or 3 months to come I almost hope to see you again before the year’s end’ - then a ½ page on politics - Wortley sure of his election - bank charter the great object of anxiety now - something must be done - people ‘must be employed and trade must be better, and prices higher or who can tell what will become of us - our present weight of debt and taxes cannot be borne in the present limited state of our currency’- wrote the last 13 lines till 5 ¾ - dinner at 6 in ¾ hour tho’ I had Greenwood in to speak to him about my place – he said he had considered that perhaps he had better give up the thought to fit, for he should not perhaps like going where they could neither understand him nor he them – this what I wanted – said I thought he was right and had judged very well – gave him ½ a crown – (Matty had settled he was to 5/. a month and I said 1/6 a week for going to the p.o. for the newspaper at night) for newspaper fetching beginning last Tuesday and ending with tonight, and going to George Naylors’ for me on Wednesday and glad to be off - he would have been sadly gauche and awkward - how much better providence helps me than I help myself whom shall I get for man and maid and what shall I do at last when shall I get off and what will happen first? sent off by James Greenwood at 6 ¼ my letter to ‘Mrs. Norcliffe, Langton, Langton hall, Malton’ and my letter to ‘Mrs. Lawton Mrs. Belcombes’ Minster court York single’ - wrote the last 9 ½ lines, and out at 7 5 in my walk till 9 ¼ - read over the courier – came upstairs at 10 35 at which hour F63° - fine day - Marian said tonight she thought I had better have a soldier or a Highlander for a servant - the idea of a man who had been a soldier, struck me. I will think about it, and try what I can do such a man would be orderly and a good travellers and might suit me best

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chaseblogger · 4 months

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Coffee Rituals and My Favorite Band

Working from home, French press coffee, and my thoughts on balancing personal storytelling versus my They Might Be Giants newsletter.

“Let’s type our pages into the ol’ iPhone notes app today. Sitting on a desk in DuPont, WA is a blue leather-bound book, undisturbed and not being written in. It was left there yesterday as I assured myself I would be working in the office the next day (today) and by a sudden turn of fate, I did not work in the office today. I’m working from home. Why this change of tide? Because I stayed up late and decided my morning could go a lot easier if I didn’t wake up at 5 am. Since I have the flexibility and no meetings today, it’s a viable option and as of 7:20 am at the time of writing this, it’s my reality.”

A hairdryer blows from the bathroom as Chase’s wife gets ready for work. When it turns off, a podcast can be heard faintly. Nicole, a Piss Pig through and through, is listening to her morning shows. Getting up from the couch, Chase sleepily adventures to the kitchen. His plan did not spare him from being tired. The debt for staying up must still be paid. He needs coffee and is kicking himself for purchasing coffee beans to grind and make French press rather than more K-cups for the instant machine last weekend.

“Damn you, Saturday Chase,” he writes in his phone’s app, not actually off from the couch.

“You have really made a mess of things for me with your weekend optimism and ‘love of the French press ritual’ in the mornings. That shit is for the WEEKEND. Not a Tuesday morning.”

Chase succumbs to his environment and pours half a cup of freshly ground coffee into the French press carafe while he waits for his water to boil. Today can still be a good day because at the end of it all, there is a bed about 30ft away that he will reunite with and fall deeply asleep.

10 Long Journaless Entries Later. . .

Back on the couch. It’s a Saturday morning and Grace is awake next to Chase watching Adventure Time. An incense holder designed to look like a plague doctor of the past is emitting scented smoke out of its goggle-masked eyes. On the TV, Finn the Human is visiting Primso the Wishmaster for the first time. The world-building in this animated series always inspires Chase to continue in his quest to be a more fulfilled and prolific writer. Even if not renowned or even profitable, creating worlds from seemingly nothing is something a writer does. Chase considers himself a writer.

“Nicole went camping with friends yesterday after work and I’ve been feeling like I’m getting sick and opted not to go,” Chase manages to type into his phone when not distracted by the cartoon. “Honestly, it’s in the mountains and supposed to rain. That doesn’t sound like a fun time while getting sick. Instead, this morning I’m going to have brunch with my kids at Art House Cafe and then rest.”

CUT TO:

INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT

Chase is lying in his bed 11:59 PM. One arm under the covers and another lying across his forehead. This is his preferred way to sleep.

CHASE (V.O.)

It’s been over 12 hours since I started writing today. Headaches kept coming on and I felt exhausted for much of it. I’ll bet if I were to search for the most used word in all of my written entries, it would be “tired.” Probably a sign that I need to exercise more, eat healthier, and do a better job of prioritizing sleep. Already not happening tonight but maybe one day.

Chase lays still and lets out a deep sigh, wondering how any of what he writes will tie into the book that he envisions. Recently, he found himself starting a new writing project. Another newsletter called, “Kiss Me, Son of Blog,” where Chase intends to write about every song by the band They Might Be Giants. He wonders if this is another fun creative outlet or a self-sabotaging distraction.

#writing #meta narrative #Chase Roper #creative writing

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hiddenwritingsintheworld · 1 year

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When are we getting more chapters of RMW? It’s getting better and better! 😍 that shower part! I really hope to see Chris and reader work out🙏🏼💕 I want to see their dynamic flourish!

Im currently writing Chapter 11, hoping to have it finished and Chapter 12 started tonight.

I might post Chapter 7 by Friday. I'm not sure yet, I like to have several Chapters written before I post more. Just due to the fact that I dont know how many chapters this story will end up having lol.

I have 6 pages worth of notes I've made to include in this series so it might be a long one.

Hopefully, I can have Chapter 7 & 8 posted by Saturday for you guys!! :)

They're definitely not like any other couple we've ever seen lol that's for damn sure! They still have a very long ways to go lol and even that being said they may not end up with a happy ending.

But you never know!

Don't forget you can always be on the tag list!

#K talks #K Asks #K Answers #Rich Mans World

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laws-yellow-submarine · 5 years

Note

Can you do a scenario for Law realizes he's in love with a female pirate that everytime Law goes and talk to her he messes up or embarrass himself. His crew, the straw hats, white beard and red hair shanks crew knows about this and tries to help him but makes it worse (like giving him wrong ideas etc.) But in the end they find out she feels the same way. Law finally gets to be with her, also add a rough NSFW please

Hellooooo!~ Thank you for waiting for this one! I ended up kinda getting away from the original request, I think, and I left out the Whitebeard and Red Haired pirates (I just couldn’t figure out how to fit them in there), but it just kept going and going and eventually I had this super long monstrosity haha but it’s still pretty close to what you requested, so I hope you enjoy it! I worked really hard on it! 😁

He hadn’t expected to see her again.

It would’ve been easier if he hadn’t.

Instead, Law now had to deal with being in close proximity with someone who made him...feel things. As if being stuck on an island with the absolutely insane Straw Hat Pirates wasn’t enough.

Still, he figured he could do a decent job of avoiding all of them, and promptly gave the order to his crew that he was not to be disturbed, and then shut himself in the infirmary of the Polar Tang until further notice.

That only worked for about three hours.

Law was just cleaning up from one of his many planned experiments for that weekend when the unmistakable sound of FLIP FLOP FLIP FLOP came sounding down the hall. He groaned, head in his hands, as Straw Hat’s shout of “TORAO!! COME OUT HERE! WHATCHA HIDING FOR?!” came through the door, accompanied by a flurry of harsh knocks. His crew were gonna get it.

“Ah! There you are! Come on, Torao, you gotta check this place out! There’s so many other pirates here, and there’s FOOD!!” Law sighed as he let Luffy drag him back outside, noting Shachi, Penguin, and Bepo standing nearby, looking away from him, whistling into the air.

Traitors.

Luffy continued to rattle things off about their location, not that Law was listening. He was, unfortunately, used to this by now and knew fighting it was futile. As long as they steered clear of her, he could handle it.

Fate obviously hated him.

As Luffy pulled him to the feast he’d mentioned, Law’s eyes locked on a familiar female pirate, his gut immediately doing flip flops in a way that made him sick, and he hated it. But he was too late to pretend he hadn’t noticed her because there she was, waving at him with a small smile on her face that did nothing to stop the heat creeping over Law’s entire body. Instead of responding, he jerked his face away from her, looking instead at the group Luffy had pulled him to.

Ever since their alliance, the Straw Hats and the Heart Pirates had gotten along rather well; and despite Law’s statements that he did not consider them friends, everyone knew it wasn’t true; including him. Not that that ever stopped him from denying it. Loudly. Finally pulling his arm free from the other captain’s grasp, Law angrily sat amongst the group, remaining stoic despite the friendly chatter surrounding him.

On occasion he’d glance up, catching glances of her here and there, unable to help himself. Something about the way she was with her own crew, laughing and joking, kept him transfixed, even to the point that he failed to realize his present company had noticed where his attention was.

Out of the corner of his eye, Law saw Luffy’s face stretched into an impossible grin, snickering in his direction. Raising a brow, Law leaned back to get away from the rubbery man, noticing the rest of the Straw Hats giving him some strangely amused looks.

“What?” He barked out. Luffy snickered some more.

“You like her don’t ya, Torao? You keep looking over there!” Great. Even Luffy of all people noticed. This was getting out of hand.

“Of course not, you idiot!” Law ground out, pushing Luffy away, ignoring the laughter coming from the people around him. He felt his face start to heat up, wishing he’d locked the door to the submarine earlier so he wouldn’t be in this mess right now.

“Hmhmhm Torao-kun, you should go talk to her,” Nico Robin told him with a soft smile, drawing agreement from the rest of her crew, as well as his own.

“Yeah, Captain! Go get laid!” Came Shachi’s voice beside him, before Penguin smacked his head into the floor snapping “idiot!” Law rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to stem the migraine that was forming.

“No,” he said, leaving no room for argument.

The Straw Hats apparently didn’t realize that.

“Ahh need help, eh? Well, as a woman I’ll help you out, but it’ll cost you!” Nami told him, eyes mysteriously shaped like Beli signs. “I’ll even give you a discount! How’s 300,000 Beli sound?”

“No!” He said, a little more forcefully this time.

“Hm, Torao, you should woo the lady with a home cooked meal! No better way to reach a lady’s heart,” Sanji advised, though his eyes were on said lady, who somehow hadn’t overheard any of this yet despite them making no efforts to be quiet about it. The Heart Pirates burst out laughing.

“Haha! Cap can’t cook! He’d kill the poor thing!” Law glared at them, devising some new punishment for when they set sail again to get back at his friends for their teasing.

“THEN I SHALL WOO THE LADY MYSELF!” Sanji yelled, eyes forming into full hearts as he swooned around their group. Law found himself wishing the floor would swallow him whole. This was the last time he ever hung out with anyone. Ever.

“Noooo! Just give her meat, Torao! Everybody likes meat!”

“That doesn’t work on everybody, idiot!”

“I’ll go over and talk you up, Torao! No one can resist a story by me, ‘brave warrior of the sea’, Usopp!”

“She’s SUPER cute, definitely go talk to her!”

“Captain, do you think she knows any female bears?”

“THAT’S WHAT YOU’RE CONCERNED ABOUT?!”

“Ask to see her pant-AHH!”

“STOP ASKING PEOPLE THAT!!”

With each new sentence thrown at him, Law could feel his headache grow, his brows twitching in annoyance until finally he couldn’t stop himself from standing up and shouting, “I DON’T NEED YOUR HELP!”

“Help with what?” Came an innocent voice from behind him. Law felt the color drain from his face as he turned around to see her standing there, eyes shining up at him with curiosity. He stood there staring at her, not sure if there was anything he could say that would make this situation easier on him.

He was going to kill every single one of them.

“Ok then,” she laughed when he didn’t answer her. “Trafalgar Law, right? I believe we’ve met before?”

He gulped, once again contemplating the possibility of the floor becoming very hungry for vaguely Trafalgar-Law-Shaped things, but unfortunately that didn’t seem to be happening any time soon. “I don’t keep track of everyone I come across.” He said rather bluntly, pleased that no matter how much of a mess he was on the inside, that didn’t reflect in his words.

“Well if it jogs your memory, you ended up getting us out of a bind with some Marines quite a ways back. Pretty sure it was on accident, but thanks nonetheless. Of course, you also took something of my captain’s, so I should be gutting you where you stand right now.”

He, of course, remembered the entire interaction. Both pirate crews had come across a rather large Marine warship, though by the time Law got there, her ship was about to be boarded. He was still on his way to becoming a Warlord at the time, and so used the opportunity to dispatch the Marines and take the captain’s heart, adding it to his collection until he could turn them in for the Warlord’s open spot. She’d tried to fight him for it, at the time, challenging him for her captain, and crew’s, honor. He’d merely gone back to his sub and left, using his devil fruit for a quick getaway, but she’d left an impression that he couldn’t get out of his head. Things would’ve been easier if they’d never crossed paths again, he thought, but even after all this time his infatuation with her had only grown. It didn’t help that he’d poured over her wanted posters as they popped up in the newspapers, but it seemed like no matter what he did, she wouldn’t leave his head, nor would those sparkling eyes of hers daring him to take her on, despite having known who he was.

He didn’t tell her any of this of course, the floor wasn’t quite ready to eat him alive just yet.

“So why aren’t you?” He asked instead, genuinely curious though trying not to let that on. A fight with her would be a shame.

“Eh, he was a shitty captain,” She said rather nonchalantly, shrugging her shoulders as if it was a fact. He had to agree to some extent; from what he remembered, her captain had all but handed his heart over himself. “Got someone much better in charge now.”

“Then you’re doubly welcome,” Law said, ignoring the many eyes piercing his back as they watched them talk. He was surprised at how easy this was so far, but he still didn’t want to do this with them all watching.

Not that he really planned on continuing the conversation at this point. He figured they were done.

“Hey, you wanna go for a walk or something? You seem like you could use some air,” She offered, expression completely innocent, though he was floored that she could read him that well after only brief meetings. He could still feel the others’ eyes burning holes in his back, could practically hear them urging him on; so Law gave a great sigh as if it was a huge inconvenience to him, and nodded, following her away from the crowd.

Once away from the group, he found it was actually easy to be near her. They didn’t talk, merely walked in companionable silence, exploring the area that was apparently very popular for pirates.

“You know, I saw you looking at me before,” she said, causing his breath to hitch just ever so slightly in alarm at having been caught. Dammit.

“I was looking at everyone. Better to assess a situation before any shit hits the fan.”

“See, I’d believe you if you hadn’t kept looking at me,” she laughed, not seeming at all upset by it. He raised a brow at her, trying to figure out what game she was playing. She just continued to stare back at him with those eyes that made heat flush through his body. “It’s ok, you know. I was looking at you too.”

That actually made him pause, staring at her as he short-circuited, unsure how to proceed. Oh sure, he’d slept with plenty of people in the past, but he’d never felt anything for them. If all he wanted to do was “get laid”, as Shachi put it, this would’ve been no sweat.

Damn feelings, making everything so complicated.

“Were you looking to try challenging me again?”

“Ha! I knew you remembered me!” Fuck, he’d slipped up. He could no longer call himself neutral in this. He stood rooted to the spot as he tried to come up with a response that wouldn’t give himself away completely. “But no, I just thought you were pretty cute.”

“Cute?!” She nearly collapsed in a fit of giggles, leaning against a tree for support. Law regarded her for a moment, trying to decide if she was telling the truth or if this was all some weird trick to get back at him for taking her captain’s heart. He stepped closer to her; before she realized it he’d trapped her against the tree, leaving no room for escape. She looked up at him, cheeks flushed, eyes smoldering in a way that mirrored his own expression. “Cute, hm, Name-ya?”

She smirked, “You even know my name, hm?” Law didn’t respond, instead capturing her lips with his own as he pinned her against the tree, her hands reaching around his neck to settle in his dark hair. Her touch on his skin was electric, sending shocks through him at every tug at his scalp; his own hands grasped at her hips, touching the bare skin under her shirt and sending shivers down her spine. He waited a moment for her to protest, and when she didn’t he slid his hands higher, cupping her breasts through her bra under her shirt.

He slid one hand under the bra, kneading the flesh there and eliciting delicious moans from the girl in front of him, while his other hand travelled to the front of her pants, playing with the button and zipper for a second before slipping his hand down the front of her jeans. He smirked against her lips as she gasped, bucking against his hand as he reached between her legs, playing with the sensitive skin there. Law moved his head, kissing under her jaw down to her shoulder, relishing in the sounds she was making, glad that they’d moved far enough away from everyone that no one could hear what was going on.

He groaned as he felt one of her hands brush against the outside of his jeans, having grown hard before he even realized it. His body wanted her touch, craved it like he hadn’t craved another person before, but he didn’t want to rush through this. His hands slid away from her body, causing a small, but arousing, whine to fall from her lips as he grasped her shoulders, spinning her around and pressing her against the tree once more.

Law pulled her jeans down around her thighs, just enough for him to get a good view of her ass, before resuming his ministrations from before; one hand on her breast, the other between her legs, as he pressed his clothed erection against her behind. At this point, all she could do was hold herself up, her legs trembling as he worked her near climax. As her moans grew in pitch, slowly turning into cries of pleasure, he slowed, causing her to rock her hips against his hand in hopes of keeping the same pace he’d had. Instead, he pulled away, peeling his jacket off and laying it on the ground, then pulling his jeans open, allowing his member free as she turned around to face him again.

Her cheeks were a gorgeous shade of red, her eyes glazed over in lust despite him having cut her off before orgasm. He gave her another searing kiss, guiding her to her knees to kneel in front of him on his jacket. She didn’t need any further instruction, taking him fully into her mouth almost immediately, to his surprise. His hands wound into her hair, pulling her head back in a way that let him control the pace for now. She looked him straight in the eye as he did so, causing his arousal to grow even more. A quick glance over her body showed him something he didn’t expect: she was touching herself while she sucked him off, apparently still peeved that he hadn’t finished what he’d started yet.

That wouldn’t do.

He pulled her off him, surprising her at how sudden it was, then flipped her around before grabbing a condom from his pocket, though not putting it on yet. He pushed her down by the shoulders, keeping her on her knees as he knelt by her, teasing her clit once again with his fingers. She rocked against his hand, all but begging for release, but he wasn’t quite ready to give it to her yet.

“Patience, Name-ya,” Law said, smirking against her hip as he lay kisses along her skin, nearing her clit but not close enough.

“Oh fuck you,” she whimpered, eliciting a low chuckle from him as he kissed her inner thigh, causing her to bite her lip.

“How bad do you want it, Name-ya?” He drew his tongue over her clit, to her opening, in one slow, agonizing stroke, cause her to clench up and let out a whine that almost made him give up control right then and there. He wanted to taste more of her.

“Please, oh please,” she begged easily. “I want it so bad. Please just make me cum.” He groaned, not expecting such an earnest request, but more than happy to oblige. Law lapped at her pussy a few more times, savoring every sound she made, before leaning back to put the condom on. He knelt behind her, teasing her with his cock for only a moment before entering swiftly and easily, letting out a satisfied sigh at the feeling.

Law began slow at first, letting her get used to him, then picked up the pace as he drove into her, pushing her face into the fabric of his coat, muffling every cry she made. Which was probably just as well, as he wanted to avoid anyone walking in on this. He knew they both were close, and it wasn’t long before he felt her walls clench around him. He leaned forward, mouth at her shoulder as he thrust only a few more times and came himself, groaning into her skin, their sweat mixing as they lay against each other, panting for breath.

He pulled out of her with a deep breath, suddenly exhausted. They got redressed in silence, not even looking at each other until Law couldn’t find his hat. Turning towards her, he found it in her hands, but what was more surprising was the smile on her face. It was...shy, almost embarrassed, and he worried what that meant about what just occurred.

“Here,” She said, handing his hat to him. “Umm, this is probably going to sound stupid but...I’d like to see you again. Not just to do that, though that was enjoyable, but...I dunno, I’d like to spend time with you. If that’s ok. I totally understand if not.” She wouldn’t look at him, and his eyes widened at what she was saying.

“...I’d like that,” He was more surprised that he meant it.

It may not be how normal relationships started out, but he supposed, he wasn’t exactly normal.

“Definitely cute,” he heard her giggle beside him. Law smirked, kissing her one last time to shut her up, before they headed back to their respective crews.

#trafalgar law #trafalgar law scenario #one piece #one piece scenario #not safe #thanks for the ask!#was going to write more for tonight but this ended up being 7 pages long and I got a migraine halfway through so no more tonight #hopefully tomorrow

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pars-ley · 3 years

Text

Try again

Pairing: Hoseok x Female reader

Summary: When your job lands you at one of the most famous Fashion shows in Paris, the last thing you expect is to run into an ex - the current most sought after model in the industry.

Genre: Exes to lovers / Smut / Fluff

Rating: 18+ (NSFW)

Warnings: Model Hoseok / Dior Hoseok / Unprotected sex (you know the dealio, wrap it when you tap it) / Ever so slight exhibitionism / Nipple play /

Word Count: 2.3k

Beta: @birbdae thank you for looking over it twice because I’m so extra (sorry) and thank you for all your help.

Notes: This is for my secret santa project with @thebtswritersclub for @yutasgalaxy really hope you enjoy! And I also used my square “Jung Hoseok” from my summer bingo card for the @bangtanwritingbingo event.

Taglist: @mwitsmejk @vantxx95

The lights go dim and excitement blossoms like spring in your stomach as your eyes remain trained on the runway. Phone at the ready to take notes for this month's fashion article you are in charge of.

The first model comes out and cameras flash wildly, illuminating the outfit. You scribble away rapidly recounting everything to write up later.

Dior's highly anticipated fashion show, one you had been eagerly counting down the days till. Flying out to Paris was the perfect opportunity for you to mark one destination off your travel list and you have not been disappointed at all. From the architecture to the food, you are undeniably impressed and living one of your ultimate dreams.

It's time for the most awaited outfit yet, everyone was on the edge of their seat poised. You look over at your photographer, he's in position and eager, looking ready to spring.

The lighting and music changes and out walks the model all in black. That's all the detail you notice as your heart stutters and stomach flips as your eyes shift rapidly to his face.

Jung Hoseok. How did you not know he would be here?

The cameras flash even more wildly, every photographer wanting to get the best pic of the most sought after model on this runway. Your hand however hovers over your phone, unable to scribble away like you were previously, too distracted by his general presence.

Swallowing the panic you feel rising into your throat you glance at your photographer, his eyes are already on you, pity creasing his brow but a message in his eyes that says "Focus on your job and get it together."

You take a deep breath and compose yourself, making notes on the outfit and nothing more. As soon as your eyes hit the harness stretched across his broad chest however, your legs squeeze together tightly, as not only do previous nights of passion flicker behind your eyelids but the temptation for one last night with him is almost too great to bear.

As you watch him strut down the runway, face impassive and professional, your heart pulls in a thousand directions. Memories of the few years spent together cloud your mind, taking you to another lifetime when he was yours and you were his - before fame, before everything.

You pinch the bridge of your nose hard, willing yourself to focus as you type wildly away on your phone, trying to stay focused.

The show ends a short while after your blast from the past's appearance and all you can think of is getting as far away from him as fast as you can. Before all your hard work of burying your feelings in an attempt to get over him is ruined by your self restraint.

As you head for the exit, a hand lightly grabs your arm. Turning you see a pretty young woman, a badge around her neck and a kind smile on her face, handing you an envelope.

"It's from Hoseok. He asked if I could make sure you get it." She said next to your ear so you could hear over the chatter of the other attendees.

You nod and mechanically take it. She's off through the crowd before you even get a chance to say thank you.

You head to the exit in a daze, clutching the envelope like it holds the answers to life's questions. As soon as you're out in the cool evening air you take yourself off around the corner of the building away from the scattering crowds. Your fingers fumble as you frantically rip at the envelope and open the piece of paper inside, instantly recognising his elegant hand.

Many love letters he would write to you with poetic words scrawled across the page, each sentence a meaningful lyric coming alive as your eyes danced across them with a barrier of tears waiting to fall. Those words tucked away in a box hidden deep in your wardrobe for those moments you wish to relive how he once felt about you.

You read and re-read the note, double checking the words are correct.

"I saw you as you came in, I always had the ability to find you in a crowded room and apparently that hasn't changed.

I can't believe you're here. Please. Please, meet me at Guy Savoy at 7 o'clock tonight. I would love to see you and speak to you properly. I will book a table under my name. I really hope you show, you have no idea how much I've missed you."

That last line did things to your insides you weren't expecting. Your chest felt full and ready to burst open, love bleeding out of a fresh cut. Maybe you should just go back to your hotel and order room service, or go out for dinner with your photographer seeing as you were both here alone.

But you knew, even as you thought it, you knew you couldn't. You knew you had no intention of doing either.

Folding up the note and shoving it in your pocket and went in search of your colleague to tell him you wouldn't be travelling back to the hotel with him. He wished you luck, even if there was a hint of apprehension in his tone, you ignored it and took a cab to the restaurant.

Sitting there waiting, your nerves were at their peak. You had chewed the skin along your fingernails until they were sore and you had now resorted to folding your napkin to make different origami shapes. Just as you didn't think your heart could take anymore, you picked up your bag but as you were about to stand and run away, you saw him. Walking towards you, shades on and the most familiar beaming grin that had always made your stomach flip. You couldn't help the pull of your lips, mirroring the same smile he wore.

He breezed up to you and wrapped you in his muscular arms, like a whirlwind his scent intoxicated you and jumbled your mind even further.

"You are a serious sight for sore eyes." he whispers in your ear before pulling away and pushing in your chair as you sit down in a daze.

"You're around gorgeous models all day, I doubt that." you reply, attempting to hide your blush.

He removes his shades and places them on the table, before pushing his fingers roughly through his hair. "Believe me, it’s not as glamorous as people think.”

There’s an awkward silence that falls on your table, with sly, shy glances from you both.

“How’s it been? Your career I mean.” you blurt out, desperately trying to ease some tension.

He leans back in his chair and shrugs. “I can’t complain, at all. It’s going better than I could have dreamed.”

You nod, taking in how nonchalant he’s being. “I have to admit, I’ve been keeping track.”

“Of me?” he asks, shocked.

“Your career.”

“Really? I’m flattered.” his lips stretch into a toothy grin as a faint scarlet hue spreads across his cheeks.

“You should be very proud of yourself. You’ve accomplished so much, there’s no limit on how far you can go.” you find yourself saying all of this without meaning to.

He covers his face with his hands. “Ok, I appreciate this, really, coming from you this means so much, but I am more interested to hear about you.” he leans forward and places a hand on top of yours, the action causing your heart to soar. “What’s been happening with you? Are you still in the apartment?”

You nod as you take a sip of the champagne the waiter is pouring. “Yep, can’t bear to leave it, I love it there so much, a lot of memories too.” you add sneakily trying to gage his reaction.

His eyes soften. “Yes, we made a lot there.” his fingers entwine in yours, a movement far too comfortable for how long it’s been. "I miss it," he looks into your eyes so fiercely you're slightly taken aback. "I miss us."

Your heart inflates excitedly in your chest as butterflies swarm inside your stomach. But is this a good idea to rekindle an old flame, maybe there was a reason it was extinguished in the first place.

He senses your hesitation. "Are you with anyone?"

You shake your head. "No, I've dated but nothing serious. What about you?"

He laughs a bitter sound. "Same. I've not found anyone that could match up to you."

You hesitate again. "Hoseok…"

"Listen," he puts a hand up quietening you. "I know it was mostly me who instigated us breaking up in the first place but that is my biggest regret. I never should have let you go." he bites back the emotion in his words and swallows.

"But if you hadn't you wouldn't be where you are today." you add, squeezing his hand still clutching yours.

He makes a disgusted noise at the back of his throat. "I left my dream girl to follow my dreams and let me tell you, it wasn't worth it. If someone asked me to choose, it would be you. every. single. time."

He grabs your chair and slides it along closer to him. He reaches out to cup your face. "Please, let me come back."

His plea does not fall on deaf ears. Your heart knows the decision it's made but you can't form the words to speak. Your libido overtakes the moment and you grab him by the collar of his shirt and crush your lips against his. The taste of him is so familiar and yet new at the same time. Sweet like butter as your mouths melt together as one. His arm around your waist almost pulling you off your chair makes you break away and giggle. The heat in his eyes is almost overwhelming, all your thoughts are no longer in your head but in your groin. He looks so good staring at you like that, like you are the reason for living, how could you not give into him?

"Come back to my hotel?" you whisper urgently.

He nods, throws some cash down for your ordered drinks, takes your hand and pulls you out through the restaurant. You jog along to keep up with his long legged stride. He flags down a cab and you're into it and moving off swiftly while his hands find you again. They roam your body, finding their way under your shirt and to your nipples. He rolls them gently between his fingers as his lips attach themselves to your neck.

His hand glides slowly along your thigh, up your skirt and just when he's about to reach the most desired area the cab stops abruptly, letting you know you've arrived. You groan with frustration but jump out, pulling him into your hotel and leading him up to the room. Your heart pounding so loud in your ears you can't think of anything, nothing but the taste of his lips or the feel of his skin under your fingertips and god, did you want to feel more.

As soon as your door is unlocked you're on each other. Clothes can't come off fast enough and as they leave a messy path like a trail of breadcrumbs leading towards the bed.

"God, I have missed you." he says as he glances down at your body before pulling you flush against him.

There's no time for sly touches or exploring, you're both too desperate to feel each other.

Your bare, naked flesh moulds easily together as he enters you, both of your moans echo out across the room. The feeling euphoric as it's what you know and yet what you are no longer used to. He moves inside you with a persistent, desperate rhythm as his hips wind in the most perfect way, hitting that sensitive spot every time and making your toes curl in consequence.

He looks down at you, a soft, determined gaze and says breathlessly, "I love you."

His words are your undoing, as you remember the sweet nothings he used to whisper to you while you were making love before. You unravel around him, blinded by pleasure as your back arches underneath him. He's quick to follow you as you feel his warm seed spilling inside you and you watch his face twist in pleasure, his eyes never leaving yours. The moment, so intense, almost too intense you had to look away.

Both of you breathless and riding on your high, lay back on the bed staring up at the ceiling. A thousand thoughts race through your mind as you panic that you've just made a huge mistake. What if his words weren't genuine? What if he leaves...again? What will you do then? You'll have to start over, all your hard work of pushing him aside.

Almost as if he can sense your rising doubt, his fingers entwine with yours, as he turns onto his side to face you, gently twirling a strand of your hair between his digits.

He watches you closely as if searching your thoughts, your eyes so open and vulnerable - letting him right in, wanting him to silence your fears.

He strokes your face and kisses you so softly your lips melt right into him. You want this. You want him.

"Hey, I'm serious," he leans back, eyes burning into yours. "I want to come home to you. I want our life back, I want you, always."

Your panicking heart is soothed by his words and you relax and lean into his touch, your limbs softening against him.

"Please, can I have another chance?" he asks, so vulnerable and sincere any doubts are washed away in an instant.

"Let's give it a try." you reply.

He almost blinds you with his sunshine smile as he pulls you against him, his lips dancing happily with yours. And you lose yourself in him completely. You are his, utterly and completely.

189 notes · View notes

simpsiren · 3 years

Text

the ukiyo standalone;

park jisung x reader

Jisung is everyone’s joy and prized possession. Being the youngest of his friend group and with his child-like nature, he’s certainly the one that everyone favours. He’s adorable, innocent, pure. You would think he’s well known in college but in actuality, he’s pretty hidden, living his life in the shadow of his friends. He didn’t mind it really. He didn’t need to feel the crowd prying their eyes into his business like his friends, which was why he actually isn’t seen with them often in the first place, he didn’t need to stand out.

genre. fluff, angst, emotional, heart warming aNd heart breaking

word count. 20k~

description. In this current fast pace world, there was never really a time I could take a break. I did choose this path as a lawyer major knowing I would be drowning myself with papers every single night and pulling all-nighters for an inhumane number of days. As much as I want or even need to rest, I never could. This was the path I’ve chosen. And my pride was too high to let myself stop the grind. That is until I made a mistake of calling an unknown number who belonged to a guy named Jisung at the campus library. I thought he was a waste of time till I realised he showed me to slow down, not having to force my body to move with the world’s speed, to be my ukiyo; my floating world.

!as they should masterlist!

Jisung liked doing social experiments. It was practically his side hobby, something he’d do when there wasn’t anything important on his to-do list. He was simply interested at how the students at his campus would react upon weird occurrences around them. It got students talking whenever he did something, the fact that they didn’t know it was his doing is one of the reasons why he does it in the first place.

On this particular night, where Jisung was staring out of his window from his study table that was directly in front of it, giving the clearest view of the stars and especially the bright moon that reflected its light through his cracked open window and onto his study table, he was wondering about what to do next. What would get people to feel weirded out. What would get them to react a certain way.

When an idea came to mind, the light bulb hovering over his head switched on, the gears began to turn. It wasn’t the most brilliant idea, but it could go both ways. Either the students don’t bother even taking in their surroundings to notice it, or suffer the loss of not getting help. Jisung’s a dance major but he liked doing these projects for the fun of it so might as well. Jisung peeled off a random piece of sticky note from the stack with his other stationeries. Clicking his pen, he immediately went to writing.

When times you aren’t feeling fine, just call this number. I’ll try to be available 24/7.

Jisung frowned slightly and tilted his head. If he were to paste his numbers all over the school, he would probably be bombarded with calls every two seconds. It also didn’t make sense for him to be available 24/7. Clearly that was impossible. His frown deepened. He thought for a long moment, trying to phrase a sentence that was more suitable for what he wanted to do. With a smack of his lips and an unsure hiss, he grabbed a new sticky note and started again.

Glad you came to notice this note laying wherever you are in the library. Feeling stressed? Need someone to talk to? Simply need a friend? My number’s below. You don’t have to know who I am. I’m just here to help you out, mentally I guess. I’m available from 1PM-3AM. Call whenever you feel the need to. Have a nice day :D (don’t worry I’m not some stalker or whatever i’m just a bored student here)

Jisung clicked his pen against the table to close it, his eyes scanning over his words, which might he add was beautifully written, like calligraphy. Jisung couldn’t help but crack a small smile at that thought. He threw the pen off to the side and went to his printer with the sticky note, now moving on to making copies. He wanted to copy a reasonable number, not too little till no one noticed or too many till it was extremely obvious, but well enough for him to get at least a small chance of getting a response. With a number in mind, he began printing.

The next day, he went for his lecture in the morning. He preferred having the morning lectures just so he could spend the rest of his day doing whatever. And on today’s agenda was the pasting of his notes. With the weight of his bag pulling his shoulders and back down, he wished he could go back to the dorms right now and start of his assignment but he wanted to settle this first.

He entered the library. It wasn’t too crowded. Students were fairly spaced apart from each other in the study area, sparse. Some students were at shelves. With his hands still shoved into the pockets of his black Adidas jacket, he make his way over to a random study table. He needed to do this quick to avoid suspicion. But why would students notice anyway? They had their heads digged into whatever work that was incomplete.

Jisung slowed himself down and took out the a note from the small file he had in his bag along woth a large clear tape role. He had to put his bag down, searching for the scissors. He cut a reasonable amount of tape after placing the note in the bottom right corner and placed it over top, sealing the note onto the table. Jisung back away for a moment, taking a long look at it. It was small, but still noticeable. With a satisfied shrug, he went on to do the same for some other tables, even going to bookshelves and randomly pasting them anywhere he wished.

What he didn’t know, was that he was being watch.

I had my brain wrapped around this essay for who knows how long now. Hours, days. Having to redo my research for the fith time was about to have my head spinning till it lolled, out of energy and brain power to hold up. I stared down at the notes scattered all over. The table was a huge mess, loosing track of how many pages I’ve flipped and how many articles I read online, as well as time of course. I sighed quietly, leaning back and closing my eyes, wanting to rest them for a brief moment.

When my eyelids opened back, I couldn’t help but notice the person that had been hovering around the study tables for far too long. It was distracting, watching him move from table to table at the corner of my eye. And though my attention had been on my papers, he was still to be seen in my peripheral vision. I blinked my eyes rapidly and shook my head, refusing to let a small matter tick me off to the point where I wasn’t able to do my work.

I straightened my back and adjusted my shoulders. Closing back my eyes, I took in a deep breath, chest puffing up as I gave myself a determined nod. I shot my eyes back open and with full exhilaration running through my veins, I got back to work, shutting the world out so it was just me and my work, wanting to get it done and over with.

Again I lost track of time, but in a much more productive way than how I was in the morning. I didn’t have classes today, making full use of my free time on my work. I pressed the final key on my keyboard, ending my essay with an exhale of satisfaction. I leaned back into the seat, throwing my head back till it went past the backrest. I placed my hands on the arms of the chair, and it was then did I realise that the library was extremely quiet.

I took in my surroundings, slow scanninv my eyes over the library. It was already dark, some areas pitch black while other were visible with the help of the moonlight shining through the windows. It was only the light at my study table that illuminated the area around with a orange hue. I didn’t mind being the inly one here, but sometimes it felt eerily quiet, like tonight. I grabbed my phone that was shoved into my bag. Lifting it up in front of me, the lockscreen showed itself, as well as the ungodly hour blaring at me.

“Three in the morning? How did I even...” I tilted my head slowly in awe, surpised at just how time flew by when I was immersed in completing my assignment. I read through my essay, having to close my eyes halfway due to how bright the screen of my laptop was. I was scanning through the first paragraph when I immediately went to shut down, already too tired to have one last scan through and making the mental decision of doing it tomorrow.

I packed up immediately, the thought of my bed and sleeping now being the number one priority. I shoved all my things in my tote bag, slinging it on my right shoulder. I was already taking off, a mere few steps away from the exit when I saw something shining at the corner of my eye. I stopped and turned on my heel to the study table. Slowly, my eyes trailed to the bottom right corner where the source of my pause came from. Turned out it was simply the light reflected of a tape. But upon further inspection, I went closer noticing it wasn’t just tape, but a note.

I read it over, having to brush some strands of hair behind my ear that was annoyingly covering the note. I quirked an eyebrow in a questioning manner, leaning back to my standing form once I was done reading, yet my eyes were glued to the impressively written note. “Who gives out their number just like that?” I couldn’t help but wonder under my breath. Too tired to even register any more information, I let this weird occurrence slid out of my mind, continuing to make my way out of the library and back to my dorm where I instantly fell asleep with no second thoughts.

The next day I got up, the light shining through the small holes of my curtain blinding me awake. I searched for my phone under my pillow, plugging out its charger while I scrolled through my social media, specifically Twitter. The first thing that popped up on my timeline was a tweet from the campus’s very own account. No one knows who it was made by, but you can bet that whoever they are has their eyes everywhere around the school, tweeting about the latest gossips or news around campus grounds. Today’s one sparked a memory from last night.

Someone’s at it again stirring up the attention of our students by having their number out in the open for everyone to see in our library. Was there more to it than just wanting to offer help through call service?

I scoffed, glancing away for a moment before retrieving my gaze back to my phone. “Do they actually want people calling them?” I asked myself while scrolling my thumb up to look at the other tweets below. It did come to my attention that night, now picturing the note in my mind. I didn’t remember the number, but it was there, and something about it was drawing the curiosity in me to find out more. With a grunt I shot myself out of bed, getting ready to head to the library again to study.

I hadn’t expected how much time would pass by just from me studying. I’ve been in the library for almost a full day. I was being sent on an emotional roller coaster ride. Some hours being a breeze as I studied the easiest topics, while others had me wanting to rip my hair off my scalp from trying to shove all the information in my brain when it felt like it was at its full capacity. I wasn’t myself today. I kept looking at my phone that was a distraction, which was something I never did at all while studying. I was off the edge.

With exams coming up in a month’s time, I knew I was studying too much too early. But I always had to stick to my life motto. “Get it done and over with.” I muttered to myself. But tonight, at one in the morning, my body and mind couldn’t register any more information. I couldn’t. I was tired, exhausted. Drained. The stress came barreling in full force and I hated how I was making myself feel this way by always being on edge and doing things too fast to keep up with everything else in life.

Wanting to clear my head, I began gathering some of my notes, stacking them up to the clean the table that was in a huge mess. My eyes have grown used to this sight, but I was simply cleaning for the sake of procrastinating and putting off the desire to complete aoother topic. When I was done cleaning one section of the table, something struck my attention. I looked to the bottom right corner of the table. And there it was. The note that’s been in the hidden folds of my mind when I pushed them back to focus on studying.

My eyes went from left to right, specifically at the number since I’ve remembered the note unusually vividly. “Should I?” I whispered. I looked around, no one was to be seen. Weird, since I’d usually see at least one student here despite the late hour. I exhaled softly, letting the cold air that circulated around me in the night cool my skin while I picked up my phone from the table and keyed in the number. I wasn’t thinking about what I was getting myself into. At this point, I was already overloaded with my studies that I was malfunctioning, clearly not thinking straight.

I placed the phone up to my ear, leaning forward and letting my upper body rest against the table while I placed my chin in the palm of my free hand. The ringing went on for five times, and I was about to hang up when I heard the sound of the phone being picked up. “Hey. Who’s this?” It was a guy. Could it be the one that I saw lurking around that day? I gulped and cleared my throat, opening my mouth and letting out an “Uh..” while trying to figure out what to say. “Your number is here. One the study table at the library.” I simply said, wondering what he’ll respond with.

Sudden shuffles could be heard. It went on for a brief moment till he exclaimed, “Oh! Right, right. Hey! I’m at your service, what do you need?” His voice sounded dry and coarse, like he had forgotten to drink water before he slept. Was he sleeping and picked up while he’s half asleep? I ran a hand through my hair, adjusting to get comfortable. “A listening ear. That’s all I need.” I murmured through the speaker. I had to let it all out. And it came to the point where I’d rather actually talk to a stranger about my problems than anyone I knew. But that’s how we all are nowadays, right? Too self conscious and simply wanting to put on an act for the whole world.

“Go on. I’m all ears.” He replied back, sounding attentive and somewhat interested. I didn’t want to think much of it. He was clearly like this to everyone else who called for “his service”. Being receptive and responsive. Kind and willing. That’s what he sounded like. The first person to actually say something that felt like all those things at once, to me.

“Do...” I trailed off, shaking my head and wondering what I even wanted to say in the first place. I smacked my lips. “Don’t you just feel tired? Of like the whole world. Everything and everyone around you. You’re tired physically and emotionally.” He hummed in response. “Of course I do. A lot of people feel that.” I scoffed softly, biting my bottom lip. “Yes but, the other thing that’s making me tired... is myself. I have this habit of just overloading my brain with lots of things. It feel as if I’m making myself stress on purpose.” I couldn’t help but chuckle weakly as the words left my lips.

“I always wanted to the best I could be. And that led to me just grinding and grindinv everyday with no end. I barely get to sleep, and even if I did. I’ll wake up and the whole cycle will repeat itself. I fucking hate that I’m in this loop. But I chose to be here. I can’t break out.” My voice began to crack. It took me awhile to realise that I was crying till my tears fell on the papers and made its mark by crinkling the paper while it soaked up my tears. I blotched them off my cheeks with the back of my hand.

“Hey, if-”

“And don’t.” I cut him off instantly before he could even utter another word. “Don’t tell me other people are going through the same thing.” I shut my eyes close, heaving a slow and heavy sigh. “I know. Everyone in my major goes through the same process. I’m weak. Even though I try to act like I’m the best student. My tolerance level can go down the drain for all I care.” I paused for a moment, mentally telling himt to resume whatever he wanted to say but knew he couldn’t read my mind.

But from the pause he knew what it meant and picked it up quickly, clearing his throat. “I was about to say if you want to cry, you can. I can tell that you’re holding it in and I don’t even need to see you.” I sniffled, the feeling of wanting to burst into tears again came about, rising in my body and making my chest clench. “It’s okay.” As if on cue, I screamed, cried, poured it all out. I threw my phone down, the call still on as I wailed into my palms, pressing my face against them. I’ve never had such a breakdown in months, simply shoving it to the back of my mind and kept ignoring it till it came out like this. A full blown terror.

I wanted to talk, yet my mouth couldn’t form any words. All that came out were sniffles as I calmed myself down. “I don’t really have much to say on this. And you probably don’t even want to hear me talk but you should take a break. Really. Just one day. You need it. Because you seriously don’t sound okay.” I couldn’t help but breathe out a short laugh, a very weak and effortless one. “I never thought of that, Captain Obvious.” I rolled my eyes, a smile cracking through for a brief moment.

He chuckle on the other end of the line. “You thought of it but didn’t put it into action.” He stated, sounding slightly firm. “Yes.” I admitted dryly. A few beats of silence passed, I could hear his breathing, calm and soothing. “I think I should, um, go now?” It was suppose to be a statement but due to me trying to recover from my mess, it came out as a question. I could hear him licking his lips. “Yes of course. Oh and hey.” “Yeah?”

“Do you need help with that rest day of yours?” I didn’t reply, giving it a long throught. “I probably won’t even be doing it.” I said through a sigh, beginning to pack up my things to head out of the library. “But you should. Actually, you will. I want to make sure of it.” I couldn’t help but furrow my eyebrows at his unexpected tone of determination. “Don’t you have other people to attend to for your call service?” I questioned.

“You’re actually the first one.” I could tell he was feeling rather embarrassed, letting out a tight laugh after his statement. “And I don’t even know who you are.” I was now walking out of the library, phone still to the ear while I adjusted my tote bag on my shoulder. “For starters, I’m a dance major. I’d like to mostly keep my identity hidden for now. Unless you want to meet.”

I gaped my mouth open ever so slightly, somewhat in disbelief. “You want to meet?” I echoed his question back to him, head tilted mere degrees to the side. “Well I have to make sure you have that rest day of yours. How can I when I don’t meet you?” I chuckled softly, the corner of my lips perking up. “I’ll think about it. At least I have your number now.”

“Always at your service, miss. Have a good night.”

With that, the call ended. I didn’t realisd just how much time passed by simply talking to him. It went by so fast. It was already getting pretty late by the time I checked my phone for the time. I made my way back to the dorm, the cold breeze of the night kissing my skin gently and blowing strands of hair into my face that I had to brush off. I looked up to the sky, for once the world was quiet, at rest, and just for these few hours, I had always admired how I could breathe the freedom of mere minutes while I went to the dorm.

Yet, while admiring the ink black sky, the conversation I had with the call service guy resonated in my head, I laughed at how weird it was, pouring all that I’ve bottled up till now to someone who was of no significance to me. He probably won’t even remember we had this conversation, only passing it on as his first service call. He was also only doing his job, simply being there for me to talk. Why was I even taking this seriously? I could never rest. I could never take a break. I always had moments like these to treasure at heart before I awaken to everything going full speed yet again.

I walked to the lecture hall, watching students happily walking on campus with their friends with the sky a mix of blue and white. It was a regular day. Hopefully, if I didn’t have any assignment and I could focus on studying.

Just then, a whole ton of screaming could be heard, but it was muffled and drowned out due to how far I was from the source. But it sounded horrendous. As if a boy band had just entered the campus and send billions of fangirls to their way. I wanted to continue walking but the squeals of excitement got louder and closer to me. I turned my head to the back. “Ah... why didn’t I think about that?”

There’s the group of guys again. Too popular for their own good. Everyone was shouting their names, swooning over each one of them. I wonder how they didn’t find having to deal with that annoying. Or perhaps it was just an act. I backed away from the hallway to watch them strut by casually, the group of girls following closely behind. But just then, for a brief moment, a guy wearing a black adidas jacket walked past me, mutttering “I really shouldn’t have followed you guys today.” He rolled his eyes and went out of sight. I turned my head to the right, where I could now see his back. He looked petite yet lean, with orange hair of a natural tone, the under part of it being black. What stood out to me the most was his adidas jacket. Wasn’t that the one from the library?

“Do you guys actually go through that every single day?” Jisung groaned out finally taking a breath of fresh air as they entered the room, feeling as if he got swallowed by all the attention throughout their trip to the playroom. Mark picked up a basketball from the side and began bouncing it casually to the couch where the rest were getting settled. “Today’s especially crazy because it’s our group’s anniversary.” Jisung gave an unimpressed look. “Do you think I don’t know that?” He shrugged in a blasé, god-could-care sort of way.

“How’s your call service thing going? We know it’s was your doing. My timeline’s blowing up about it this whole time.” Jeno questioned. Jisung sat at the corner of the couch. placing his forearm on the armrest and leaning his body to it. “Funny how it’s all girls and they all talked about how they couldn’t get you guys to notice them. It always had something to do with one of you.” Jisung laughed carelessly, remembering back the calls he’d been receiving throughout today. Jisung tried his best to suppress his laughter to not sound rude. Even if Jisung found it ridiculous, he wasn’t in the place to say anything about it. His call service was meant for him to console the people who called, no matter the situation he was being told.

However, another thought that came to focus was the call that he specifically had late in the night. It was his first call. And whoever that girl was, she certainly made an impression on Jisung. How she was letting it all out, being free enough to tell someone like him about such deep feelings. It was raw and transparent. The conversation never left his mind. Jisung zinged back to attention when he heard Haechan scoff loudly. He turned to him, seeing him leaned back, shoulders and back relaxed and cool while he had his weight placed on his leg and his arms folded. He then clicked his tongue and said, “Not surprised.” nonchalantly, clearly showing that he was already used to the large amount of girls swooning over him through his voice.

“So are you guys free tonight? We could take a break and hang out.” Everyone nodded their heads followed by hums filling the room signaling that everyone agreed, except for Jisung. “Jisung, you in?” Renjun asked. Jisung took in a deep breath, glancing sideways and giving it a thought. He slowly shook his head. “Why? Are you busy?” Chenle asked quizzically. “Have an assignment.” Jisung blurted out, though he had other reasons.

The rest planned to head out together after spending time in the playroom. Jisung was left in his dorm, pacing back and forth from one end of his room to the other, eyes looking to his phone each time to turned. What was he waiting for? He wanted to ask himself, as if he didn’t already knew the answer. He was so drawn in to her. The way she spoke, the honesty in her voice. It’s as if he didn’t even need to look at her to know how she was moving and what she was doing.

Jisung scratched his head furiously and on the edge of his bed heavily, grabbing his phone and letting it sit in hand loosely. “She wouldn’t call again, would she? But I did imply that she could meet me if she wanted to. She might not even call again.” Jisung muttered to himself constantly, hopping from one possibility to another, raising his hopes up and bringing them back down. Jisung groaned loudly in frustration.

“Why am I even...” Jisung threw his phone to his bed and stood up again with a grunt, wanting to resume his assignment that was almost finished. All it took was one call to have him this tangled and have his mind wrapped around a simple phone call. Worst part is he didn’t even knew if he could ever see her. He could only depend on his chances and luck that she’d want to contact him again.

This time I decided to study in my dorm, too lazy to go down to the library. It wasn’t the best environment to study. My bed was literally mere inches away from my study table, constantly wanting to pull me into throwing myself on it and shut out each time I looked at it. It was a bad decision to have my room planned out like that, but I was too lazy to move it. I tapped the end of my pen against the table rapidly, my mind going black as I simply stared at a random spot on the wall. I wasn’t having the adrenaline to do my work today. I was simply doing it for the sake of doing it, not having a clear goal.

I turned to my phone, being a remembrance of my call with the service guy. I had thought about it the whole day, whether I should give him a call. But I was overthinking it. What if he’s busy? What if he had other people’s call to deal with? All sorts of questions popped up, but after giving it a long thought, I flipped my phone screen faced down harshly, shaking my head vigorously and tensing my hands on my scalp.

“Concentrate.” I stated out boldly to myself right smack in the face. I repeated the same word as I got ready to resume my studying. I couldn’t be thinking about a mere call. It was just a call. One time I let out my now spilled out feelings. I was empty now, so there shouldn’t be a need for another call. I could continue what I always did.

Jisung’s friends had been realising how he’s been zoning out more often than usual. And he wasn’t as outwardly as he had always been. They pampered him a lot and treated him like their own child. But there was something that made Jisung feel different around them. Jaemin nudged Jisung in the elbow, making him jolt to sit up right in shock and shooting his head to Jaemin. “Huh?” Jisung let out.

“Have you been okay lately? You seem to have something on your mind often.” Jaemin asked, his eyes scanning the room and seeing the rest of their friends minding their own businesses. Jisung blinked his eyes rapidly and shook his head. “You sure?” Jisung puffed up his cheeks and let the air out through a sigh. “You know my call service?” Jisung began, he knew Jaemin would recognise the slightest change in Jisung’s behaviour. Everyone did, that was how much they cared about him. But Jaemin was the first one to bring it up so might as well. Everyone will know eventually.

Jaemin hummed in response. “My first call. It was very late into the night when. It’s a girl. And hers, was different than the rest I’ve received. As she talked, I felt that she was hiding nothing from me. That she was letting it all out for me to hear, not caring about who I was.” Jisung whispered. “I felt her desperation, her cries of help. Though she said she’ll manage it somehow, I got the feeling that she wouldn’t be able to. That she’ll crumble the more she continued.” Jaemin nodded his head slowly, processing Jisung’s words. “And so?”

“I mentioned to her that if she ever needed a call, she could do so. Or better if we meet. But she never called. And I don’t know who she is, which is what’s been on my mind. The frustration that she made such an impact yet I haven’t found out who she is.” Jaemin puckered his lips and looked upwards thoughtfully. “Did she mention anything about herself? Her major, or anything?” Jisung recalled their conversation that was etched in his mind. Jisung frowned and shook his head.

“What time did she call?” “One or two in the morning?” Jaemin gasped in disgust. “Who the hell-”

“Law and psychology students.” Jeno suddenly came into the conversation seamlessly and casually. Jisung leaned back and raised brows. “Really?” Jisung asked. Jeno scoffed and nodded. “They have tons of shit to study. From what Jaehyun tells me, they’re always staying up super late going through papers.” Jeno imitated a gag and a shiver in objection. “I could never.” He added.

“There’s so many students in those majors. How am I going to find her?” Jeno arched a questioning brow. “Find who?” Jisung sighed and motioned a hand to Jeno while looking at Jaemin, raising his brows for a moment. Jaemin waved a hand at Jeno when Jisung dropped his hand on his lap. “I’ll tell you guys later.” With that, Jeno shrugged mindlessly and went off. Jaemin adverted his attention back to Jisung, who looked even more discouraged than before.

“My poor baby. Listen, I’m sure you made an impression just like how she did on you. If she doesn’t call again, who knows. She might try finding you instead of giving you a call. Or you can just pray and gamble your luck. If you want, I’ll help you find her. You know my connections always come in handy.” Jaemin flashed a reassuring smile that Jisung didn’t hesitate to reciprocate, though it was smaller. “I’ll figure something out.” Jisung muttered, clicking his tongue.

I didn’t want to do this at first, but it kept bugging me the whole day, as if it was something that just had to be done by occupying my mind for almost the whole day. I walked out of the lecture hall, head scanning across the campus with my eyes wide open and attentive to find him.

From what I remembered, he said he was a performing arts major. And the only person I knew in that major was the one and only Ten, who I always saw lurking around the cafés on campus while I made my way back to the dorm. Luckily, I saw him sitting on a bench outside one of the cafés, munching on something while he played his phone. I instantly ran up to him, feeling a sense of hope rising while I accidentally poked Ten in the arm too hard to get his attention, causing him to wince. He looked up and recognised me, instantly flashing a welcoming smile.

“Oh, hey!” Ten shouted, his eyes forming a thin line while he waved at me with his chocolate croissant in hand. “Can I ask something briefly and perhaps even do me a favour?” I asked, slow and nervous with uncertainty. Ten raised his eyebrows quizzically. “Mm sure.” He simply replied. I exhaled and looked him in the eye. “I’m assuming you’re having your break now. Would it be possible for you to take me to your practice room? I know it’s random but I have something I need to check.”

Ten didn’t reply for a long minute, probably wondering why such a vague request came out from someone who would most likely have her time occupied almost 24/7. After waiting in anticipation, he finally shrugged and rose from the bench with a grunt. He proceeded to stretch his back, turning side to side and sighing in satisfaction. “Alright. I can take you there now.” With that, he went forward down the hall, walking as if leaving me behind. I stared at his back for a moment before quickly moving up to meet his pace.

We didn’t talk on the way there. Luckily I didn’t have to worry about us being awkward since the walk from the cafés to the practice room was only a few minutes. I was looking around when I almost bumped into Ten due to his sudden stop of motion and turning to face a door. I peeked inside and I could already see the full wall mirror that I saw dancers usually use. I turned to Ten, who jerked his head to the door, motioning me to open and enter the room.

The moment I placed my hand on the door handle, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of nervousness in me, wondering if I would even find him since I have zero idea on how he looked like. The only evidence I had was the fact that I saw someone wearing an adidas jacket who I assumed to be the one I was looking for. But that was such an unreliable assumption that I knew I couldn’t fully trust, but still try to find a way to use it to my advantage either way.

I pushed the door open, instantly bombarded with hard stomps coming from the people dancing. I felt the floor shake tremendously from the intimidating impact that created. The music was blasting from the speaker in front of them, along with a bottle which I assumed to be marked as the center of the stage. I watched silently, feeling Ten’s presence behind. With a glance over my shoulder, I could tell he was eyeing the performance with much concentration and intensity, eyes squinting as if analysing each and every one of their movements to a T.

I brought my focus back on them. It didn’t take my eyes long for it to focus on one person. The adidas jacket guy. One guy was wearing it. He was also wearing a black cap, blonde hair poking out from the bottom. His figure was small yet attractively lean. I couldn’t see his face at all. Yet, I was so drawn to him. Not just because he could’ve been the one I was looking for, but the fact that his dance was engaging, and nothing compared to the rest.

They got to a moment where everyone exited and it was just him alone in the center of the room while others waited by the sidelines. My mouth gaped open slightly, watching him go. His movements are seemingly perfect, every part of his body moving fluidly like water yet intricate and hard hitting. It was impactful, loud. He stood out, and I could picture the whole room going dark with a single light shining on him, and only him. I could tell he was expressing himself and giving his all. I didn’t need to have background knowledge on dance to see that in him.

The dance lasted for about five minutes, and I had my eyes locked on Adidas Jacket guy the whole time, too immersed to the point where I didn’t even feel Ten poking my shoulder. “_____?” He called out, making me blink my eyes rapidly upon hearing his voice and turning my head around. “Yeah?” Ten ruffled his hair. “They’re done. You can check whatever you need to check now.” I let out a soft, “Um...” while turning my head back to the front, eyes glazing over the room and looking for Adidas Jacket. I stood there frozen, not exactly sure what I even wanted to do in the first place.

I turned around fully to face Ten, adjusting my tote bag. “Actually, I think I’m good. I’ll go now. See you around?” It was more of a greeting than a question. But either way, Ten downshifted his head and moved his body out of my way to the door. “You too. Come more often if you’d like.” Ten smiled kindly. I simply reciprocated back the smile and walked out, not saying anything about Ten’s last comment.

At the dorm, I had my arms and legs spread out while I laid on my bed, blankly staring at the plain white ceiling while I tried to connect the dots, or even just simply having everything laid and mapped out in my mind. How was I even sure that could be him? His physique seemed to be similar from what I remembered, the jacket was another clue too. But how could I confirm it? I have yet to check the time the moment I came back, and I already knew hours had gone by.

“Who even are you?” I asked to the ceiling, directing it to the mysterious call service guy who had my mind hung up in him and having my busy life off balance.

“Who are you?” Jisung questioned silently, though it was loud enough that Renjun had to peek his head over the bunk bed to look at Jisung who was below. “What are you talking about?” Renjun asked. Jisung turned his head to the side, showing Renjun his side profile and closing his eyes with a quiet sigh. “It’s nothing.” Renjun shrugged and headed back to sleep.

Jisung had his mind on her the entire time, who could she be, how he could find her, and even where to start? He knew nothing about her. And that’s the thing. He didn’t know exactly what was making him think about her so much, it was just their call in general. He had zero information on her. And if what Jeno said was true, then he was probably thinking about going through such extend with his idea to get even a glimpse of her.

That very day once he ended his dance practice which was around evening with the sun beginning to shine brightly, he went to the library. What was his plan exactly? He wanted to wait in the library till he could find her. But how would he even know? He didn’t even know why he was doing this in the first place. He was simply placing his bet on faith and praying that the hours he was about to spend in the most dreadful place ever would not go to waste.

Not knowing what to do, he ended up huddled in a corner of the library, using the bookshelves on both sides of him to lean back and rest his head. He hated being in libraries, he hated anything to do with academics, which was why he chose to pursue his passion for dance. Though there was still dance theory, it wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. But being surrounded by books that offered him no information he wanted to know about had him feeling dizzy and bored to death.

He checked the time on his phone, eyes widening at how late it was. He felt his stomach squeezing, a low grumble coming from it while desperately asking for food to enter his system. He face suddenly lit up, remembering how he had leftover bread from the bread store he dropped by during his break. He instantly took it out and ate, watching the sun come down through the windows and turning the sky from blazing red to ink black, welcoming the night with the moonlight shining in.

He has yet to notice anyone that caught his eye. He started to think that he could have possibly missed his chance. What if she was here but left when Jisung had his guard down? What if she wasn’t even here to begin with? Should he just leave and not waste more time? Jisung was desperately holding onto his last string of hope, that was already fraying and could snap in a matter of seconds. Too tired of staying in one place, he decided to take a walk around the library.

Jisung went to the study area, the spot where he stood from gave him a clear view of everyone in their seats. Fair enough, there were students who looked like they were about to stay the whole night here, which made Jisung sniffled in disgust. How could anyone even put up with that much studying?

He was roaming and scanning his eyes lazily over the books tucked neatly and tightly on the shelves, taking long strides while he walked. Suddenly, his phone vibrated in his hand. He brought it up in front of him, seeing an unknown number displayed. Picking up the call, and he greeted, “Hey! Always at your service. What do you need?” in the most cheerful way he could put out. Though the exaggerated sigh he let out while picking up the call might’ve been heard from the other end.

“Um hey. I don’t think you remembered me but I’m the first one to call. You know uh, stressed out girl? Need a rest day girl?” Jisung widened his eyes at the realisation. It was her. “Uh...” He stammered, quickly bringing his phone down to take a screenshot of her number before placing it back on his ear. “Hey! How have you been? Glad you called again.” Jisung turned around to lean again the bookshelf, arms folded while he looked down.

“It’s been fine.” She replied. Jisung could already feel the uneasiness in her tone, shining through her words. “You aren’t.” Jisung stated outwardly, unintentionally sounding harsh. “Have you taken your rest day?” Jisung asked out of pure curiosity. This was the moment of lucky coincidence, one that he had to make full use of so he wouldn’t let her slip out of his grasp. “Not exactly? I’m at the library again. Had to complete a project.” Jisung’s eyes widened again, this time till his eye ball could’ve fallen out of his eye sockets.

Jisung quickly and hurriedly made his way to the study area, where he last stood. And there she was. He could feel the hairs behind his neck standing upright like soldiers with goosebumps being sent all over his body. She’s the only student there, the orange lamp illuminating the small area surrounding her. Jisung could only see her back unfortunately. Jisung would’ve ran up to her and surprised her. But something in him made him want to just admire her from afar. “You seem to be putting that rest day off? Have it tomorrow. It’s a Friday either way.” Jisung mentioned, eyes narrowing down on her back.

Jisung watched as she sighed and a ran a hand through her hair quickly, somewhat in distress. “Can you force me to?” She whispered, lowering her voice. Jisung blinked his eyes for a moment. “You want me to force you? I don’t want you feeling forced.” She chuckled through the phone, sending a shiver down Jisung’s spine. “I know I won’t do it on my own will. I’m just like that. Like I said before, I’m basically driving myself into insanity trying to keep up with my work. Always grinding, always on the edge. And I can never slip off once.”

I called on impulse. My hands couldn’t keep away from typing in the same number now permanent on the bottom right corner of the table. As I hear him speak on the other end, I weirdly felt safe, and comfort. A sense of calmness. “I’m anxious that if I shut myself from the world from one day, I’ll miss out on a lot, and just stress over it while I try getting everything done to be back on the same level.” I gulped, laughing weakly. “I’m stressing myself for no reason.”

Jisung walked from the back of the bookshelves to shift his angle of sight, attempting to get a better look of her instead of just her back. He managed to get a better view, but the side of her face was covered by her hair as she kept looking down on the table, which only made Jisung frown. “Did you consider about the meet up?” Jisung questioned, peeking his head upwards and standing on his toes, trying everything he can he get a glimpse of her without actually approaching.

“Why do you want to meet me? Hasn’t there been anyone else that called you service? You are required to comfort them too. Why am I so important that you would even want to meet me?” Jisung left a long pause. He never expected such a thought. He didn’t know how to reply either. He bit the inside of his cheek, glancing sideways as he tried to force something out, knowing that she would have already suspected something from the long silence he gave. “If I’m being honest, the other calls were boring. Calls that have only been made once. You’re the only person who called back.” Truthfully, he had many other answers, but he all got blocked out when he narrowed his eyes down at her back.

“So me stressing over my life is much more interesting than the rest? I’ll take that as a compliment.” Jisung let out a soft chuckle, taking note to keep his voice low so he wouldn’t get caught. “Sure. Mm if you would escape to anywhere, where would you go?” She hummed in reply, most probably thinking long and hard. “I would...” She trailed, but it was followed by another longer pause. “Actually, I read about a Japanese term before. It’s ukiyo, the floating world.”

Jisung nodded his head, taking it in. “It when someone being detached from the bothers of life.” She sighed loudly through the phone, but Jisung could hear it clearly from the bookshelves. “I wish I could experience that floating world.” Her words grew into a whisper till it became inaudible at the end. Jisung saw her tilting her head down lower to the table, eventually using her forearm as a rest for her head. “Oh I have an idea.” Jisung replied quickly. “What if I become your so-called Peter Pan? Like, I can take you to Neverland for as long as you need. And that Neverland is just for you. It can be anything you want it to be.” Jisung suggested.

She laughed through the phone, a soft laugh that made Jisung’s already wavered heart skip another beat. “I’d love that.” Suddenly, she pushed her chair back, rising up from her seat. Jisung’s heart began to race, swiftly and silently turning his body to the back of the bookshelf. She was walking to the bookshelves a few rows down where he was at. He pressed himself up against the books in anxiety. “And what if I give you the free will to make Neverland? How would you want it to be? Because I know nothing about having a break.” Jisung heard her footsteps, one foot down followed by a few seconds of silence before placing down the next. It was slow and throwing Jisung off guard, thinking about what he’d do once she began to step close.

“I have two options. I’d either fill it with the things you love, or fill it with things I love and have you explore.” Jisung slid over to the nexy bookshelf ahead in fear, now keeping his voice lower than how it initially was. “I’d rather choose the latter. What do you like doing?” Jisung stared down at the floor. “Dancing, obviously. I like to hang out with my friends. Going out to the pet store just to look at hamsters.” Jisung and her giggled softly after hearing him say the last line.

“Hamsters? That’s cute.” Jisung took awhile to process the next part. He suddenly saw a pair of feet, inches away from his. He instantly shot his head up, seeing her standing in front of him. He tilted his head down a few degrees, realising that she was a lot shorter than him and needed to level the eye contact. For some reason, Jisung’s ribcage began to clench, suffocating his lungs and not letting a single grasp of air into his system as he looked at her. She wasn’t breathing either. The pin drop silence fill the small gap of air between them.

I brought my phone down from my ear, letting my hand fall to my side and my phone loosely hand by my fingers that wrapped around it. I glanced down for a moment before looking back up to him, he was extremely tall. “Wait you’re...” I tried to recall my memory while I took a close look at him, specifically his physique and body structure. It looked exactly like the one that caught my eye back at the practice room. “Were you the one dancing?” I questioned, not sure how to phrase it.

He tilted his head to the side and slowly nodded his head. “Um I’m always dancing?” He replied back with another question. But his head slowly tilted back straight, as if something had dawned on him. “You! Were you the one that came in the practice room that other day?!” He shouted, leaned back in shock as he covered his mouth that immediately gaped open at the realisation. I blinked my eyes rapidly and nodded my head. “Adidas jacket guy. It’s you.” I almost copied his posture entirely as I remembered.

The blonde hair, the thin yet lean body. It all matched. It was him. The cap didn’t give me a clear view before. But now, his face was right in front of me. And he was attractive. He had that baby face. All features of him were stunning and fit perfectly into his small face. He even had the looks to be an idol even, especially with those dance skills. “I’m Jisung. Park Jisung.” He finally introduced himself. In all honesty, I didn’t picture him to look like this while we chatted, his voice was low, and didn’t exactly suit the kind of build he had. “_____.” He hummed in response.

“This is...” Jisung broke his eye contact with me, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck while he breathed out a chuckle. “An unexpected way to meet. How’d you even find me?” I flashed a devious smile. “You weren’t hard to notice. I could hear shuffling right behind me then I heard your voice.” I shook my head. “What were you doing here though?” Jisung stammered, struggling to even form a sentence of reply. He looked like he was hiding the shakiness under his skin. “I thought I could find you by waiting here in the library.”

I squinted my eyes at his answer. So was he trying to find me all this time while I tried to do the same? “You actually waited here for hours?!” I couldn’t help but raise my voice a notch, too shocked when he downshifted his head. Why would he go through such lengths? Did he not think about the factors? Like how I would’ve not even come here in the first place? Or that I’d walk out and he’ll miss his chance? I had all those questions wrapped around my mind, but as much as I wanted to ask, all I could let out was, “So, Peter Pan.” I stated out loud, resuming the conversation we had on the phone.

Jisung smiled. It was a friendly smile. A warm one that embraced the space around them in the coldness of the dark. It also made him look a hundred times more attractive, with his eye smile that looked as if the world got brighter, and with his teeth showing. He kind of resembled a hamster, oddly enough. “Looks like I’m your Peter Pan now.” Jisung clasped his hands behind his back. “And my first order of business is getting you out of whatever hell hole you’re suffering from. And I don’t care what work you have to do. I’m not going to make you do it.” Jisung shook his head furiously, his bright orange-blonde hair swooshing as he did so, making it clear to me that it was extremely as light and fluffy as it looked to be.

“I’ll clear up my day. I have no lessons tomorrow so I’d usually study-” Jisung brought a finger up in front of my face, articulating it from left to right which a frown. “Nope. None of that. Being serious when I say you need a break. I feel like you have mental breakdowns like the one when you first called like once every week.” Jisung said, a soft hint of whining shining through his tone. “Wait do you?”

I bore my eyes into his, face feigned expressionless. “I mean, I had two mental breakdowns so far. That’s not bad, considering how many times I force myself not to.” I folded my arms, taking a step back to place my weight on one leg as I stood nonchalantly. “Yeah. But you still aren’t living your best life.” Jisung bent forward and smiled innocently, with eyes that looked into my soul and read my heart and mind.

“Pack up. You’re not studying anymore. Sleep. And I’ll meet you tomorrow at 2. Wake up at your own time. Don’t force your body into getting out of bed. Hear me?” Jisung began walking away, and I quickly followed, though I was struggling to keep up due to him taking big steps with his long legs. “Fine.” Was all I said, as we made our way to take our stuff from our separate places. We met back at the entrance, Jisung opening the door for me as I downshifted my head in thanks and went out.

“I watched you dance. It was incredible.” I suddenly let out, thinking about what else I could say about it. “It gave me a feeling that I can never pen down in words.” Jisung ruffled his hair and shook his head, adjusting his hair that looked messy. “Really? That’s nice to hear. But I know I can do better. I’m not the best.” When we stepped out of the library, I felt the cold breeze brushing my skin, too cold till I accidentally let out a shiver. “You seemed to be the best one there. I mean, the one that stood out to me the most.” Jisung raised both his brows, as if surprised such a comment came from someone. “Well I’m glad I was able to touch your heart.”

Moments of silence breezed through us like the cold air as we walked down the pathway. I didn’t know where Jisung’s dorm was, but it certainly wouldn’t be at my building. Was he walking actually wanting to walk me back? Either way, the silence wasn’t awkward. Jisung kept humming and nodding his head to the beat playing in his head, shoulders bobbing and making small movements. All I wanted to do was watch and smile. It made my stomach twist a knot, sending butterflies fluttering along while doing so. He would occasionally make eye contact and let out a cute giggle.

“Wait where even is your dorm?” I questioned. Jisung froze for a moment before quickly bringing his focus back on me to answer. “A few blocks down yours.” He simply said, bringing his index finger up to point in front. It was only now that I realised we were already at the entrance of my dorm building. “No wonder I’ve never seen you on campus before.” I muttered, nodding my head. Jisung adjusted the straps of his bag on his shoulders. “I’m not popular. Not like my friends. But at least my major mates know me.” I chuckle and blinked. “Of course they do. You’re talented.” I sighed and looked up to the sky, which was plainly a blank canvas with stars that could only be seen if you squint hard enough.

“I wish I had something to be proud of.” I whispered under my breath. Before Jisung could even say something back, I brought my eyes down from the sky and shook my head. His mouth was already opened and ready to speak, but he didn’t. “So I’ll see you tomorrow? Is there anything I should prepare myself for?” Jisung shrugged with a soft smile. “Nothing. We’ll just do the first thing that pops in my mind. I’m the type to be impromptu.” I hummed, saying goodnight to him one last time before going into the building, not looking back. Yet I felt his eyes glued to me, which only made me self conscious till I was completely out of sight.

One thing’s for sure, I already knew something that was different about us. I didn’t even meet him for long, but I could already tell Jisung was so laid back, relaxed, moving with his day like a breeze, no worries for the world whatsoever. He liked being impromptu, while I always had my days scheduled so meticulously. He seemed to be the complete opposite of me, yet he was still able to have order in his life. Curiosity spurred in me. I was having that urge to know him more, how he was able to live like that, how Jisung, was Jisung.

Funny enough, Jisung didn’t tell me about where to meet. Which was why I chose to seat the bench right outside my dorm building. I didn’t know how long I was waiting. I did follow his advice. I woke up quite late and stayed in bed watching Netflix shows. I took my time to get ready. And I actually went down a little over 2. I had my earphones plugged in, scrolling through Twitter since I had nothing else better to do on my phone. I didn’t have any games on it, or much of any form of entertainment. I never had time for those either.

Out of the blue, I heard something that resembled a buzz of some sort right beside my right ear. I instantly turned my head to it, leaning back and almost falling off the bench as I sent my bottom to the edge, shocked at seeing a drone flying right beside me. It wasn’t just an ordinary drone. It flew closer to me, and I squinted my eyes for closer inspection. There was a camera. It made me jump off the bench and taking steps back. And with each time, the drone flew closer to my face.

“Hey calm down!” I heard for a distance. My eyes adverted to the voice, seeing a small sized Jisung standing far from me. He tiptoed and waved his hand high, the other hand holding the controller of the drone. I could only laugh nervously as he ran up to me. “Good afternoon to you.” Jisung greeted cheerfully with a bright smile. I gulped and forced a casual smile, though I was still weirded out by the drone that was now circling in front of us. “You like me drone? My friend made it actually.” Jisung giggled.

I pursed my lips. “You chose to greet me with that?” I pointed my finger out with skepticism in my tone. “I’m sure you noticed the camera.” Jisung reached out for the drone, and held it in his hands. How can his hands hold something that big with so much ease? Or maybe the drone was small and his hand made it look big. “I was thinking we could record your day. If you were to actually have fun, you’ll have it on tape so you can watch back and remember the fun when you’re going through stressing times.” While Jisung was explaining, I couldn’t help but notice how brightly he was smiling. It was like the one he flashed at the library that night, but this time it was two folds of it, making the effect of butterflies in my stomach fluttering two fold as well.

“You really thought deep...” I whispered, leaning in to examine the drone while he moved it around for me to look at it from different angles. “It’s not so deep. I thought it only made sense for us to record a day like this. It’ll be fun, trust me.” I could only chuckle and stare down at my feet for a moment before looking back to meet his eyes and asking, “So, Peter Pan, where’s our first stop?” Jisung took out his phone and scrolled through it, I took a peek and realised he was on his notes. It had a list and it was labeled “TODO LIST FOR D-DAY” I giggled softly. “You’re making such a big deal out of today. I’m shocked.”

Jisung chuckled and ran a hand through his hair after placing the drone down on the floor. “Mm I like doing things like this. You know like, doing things out of the ordinary. This is certainly one of the time.” I furrowed my eyes at him while he had his on his phone. He probably felt my eyes searing into him, making him lift his eyes up and staring cluelessly. “So I’m out of the ordinary?” I questioned, tilting my head and feigned intimidation.

“What? No, no! I meant the fact that there’s someone who I need to plan a day out for. This kind of things don’t happen everyday.” Jisung leaned back and lifted up both his hands in defence, only making me laugh loudly and shaking my head. “Calm down. I was just teasing. I’m much for weird than I look.” Jisung raised both in eyebrows and jerked his head down to my phone. I blinked my eyes rapidly at his action. “I can already tell. Who has their timetable as their wallpaper?” Jisung faked a gag, which only made me frown as I glanced at my phone. “Nothing’s wrong with that!” I retorted, huffing and walking forward. I barely took a step before Jisung pulled me back.

“Peter Pan hasn’t even tell you the location, dummy.” He flicked my forehead with his finger, making me grimace. “Oh you dare to do that?!” I gaped my mouth open and scoffed in amusement, glancing sideways before retrieving my eyes back to Jisung. “I’m getting back at you!” I growled. “Till you do something that deserves the need to do it.” My voice grew softer with each word and my shoulders bobbed up while my expression turned into an embarrassed one. Jisung laughed out loud, he seemed to be enjoying himself, leaning back and holding his stomach from all the laughter he did for a full moment.

“Till I deserve it? Why are you so uptight?! Come. I’ll let you do it.” Jisung leaned forward, face meeting my level as he closed his eyes and a child-like smile played on his lips. I stared at him for a long moment. And when he didn’t feel any impact, he opened one eye in question. “Come on.” He urged, motioning his hand to his forehead. I chuckled at this, my hand being brought up like it had a mind of its own and flicked Jisung’s forehead with much force. He grimaced, but covered his pain with a sincere laugh the second after. “There aren’t any rules. Do what you want to me, okay? See, I can be your punching bag if you need me to.”

I gave Jisung a disinterested look. “Mm sure. Enough chatting just take me wherever already.” Jisung laughed at my impatience, sliding his phone into hus back pocket and getting himself ready to fly the drone. It flew up and almost went to my face. Luckily my quick reflexes allowed me to avoid it quickly, resulting in Jisung hissing and mumbling, “Sorry.” under his breath. He began to walk forward with me followed closely behind him as he played with the drone and letting it hover around as it recorded us from above.

We were walking quite a distance. I didn’t expect it to be this far. The sound the drone kept making was already imbedded into my memory. We were walking down a street I was completely unfamiliar with and the sun shining brightly above us wasn’t helping at all, only with occasional times when the clouds covered the sun for mere moments before it became blazing hot again. “Where are we even going?” I questioned, taking a look around my surroundings. Jisung finally let the drone come down from the air. He picked it up and motioned his hand with the drone to the building right in front of us. I furrowed my eyebrows as I looked up to the building.

“I thought about us enjoying the simple things in life. I didn’t want to take you to any fancy or high end places because well, I have no money for one. But it’s also because if you’re going to do this again, I’d want it to be something affordable. A place you can go to anywhere, anytime.” Jisung shrugged while he explained the reason of choosing this place which I still have yet to know its purpose since I saw no sign that gave me a single clue. “That’s deep.” I simply said. Jisung pursed his lips and nodded his head. “That was unintentionally deep.”

Jisung fiddled with the drone to turn it off and passed it to me for me to hold as he opened the door and gave me way. I downshifted my head and went inside. I looked around. It seemed to be a lobby. There was a small counter at the corner and in front was a deep hallway filled with doors left and right. What was this place? I felt Jisung’s presence behind me as he went to the counter. With a smile, the woman behind gave him a key. He went forward in front of me and tossed the key in the air for it to drop to the floor. I raised a brow at his action. I assumed he tried to expertly catch the keys again but failed to do so. I wanted to face but I kept my neutral expression. Jisung picked it up quickly and turned to flash a soft smile before proceeding to walk. I again followed behind.

While I walked down the hallway, I could hear different music coming from each door. Some rooms were silent while other were blasting music so loud yet muffled due to the door blocking out the music. There weren’t any windows on the door that I could peek into to see what was inside, which only made me more skeptical as I tried figuring out what this place was. Jisung abruptly stopped in front of one door, which was at the very end of the hallway. I almost bumped into him but stopped myself by placing a hand near his shoulder where I would’ve bump into.

Jisung slid the key into the keyhole and fiddled around for a moment for the key twisted and the door opened. Once again he made way for me to head in first. A gentleman, that was another thing about Jisung I took note of. I walked into a pit of darkness till I heard Jisung flip a switch and the lights turned on. I gaped my mouth open in awe and nodded my head slowly as I took unsure steps in. “Is this like...” I tried to form my sentence but I was mesmerised by the blank space of the wooden plank floor and the wall sized mirror that stretched from one end to the other entirely. “Your own dance studio?”

Jisung smiled softly and hummed, standing beside me while we both looked at ourselves in the mirror. “Wait. You aren’t actually telling me to...” I very slowly turned my head up to look at him, realising he already had his eyes on me before I even made eye contact. I brought my index finger up and swirled it around beside me to motion to the the dance studio. “Dance, right?” Jisung didn’t reply, only forming a sly smile for a split second before walking to the side while scrolling through his phone. Music began to play through the speakers from the top corners of the room. He placed his phone down and began moving his body to the beat while making his way back to me.

“That’s exactly what I’m doing.” Jisung smiled brightly and giggled, proceeding to close his eyes and continue grooving to the music being played. It was upbeat and relaxing, not like the ones played at clubs. It was chill and something anyone could move to. Except, I couldn’t. With arms folded and wrapped around my chest, I stared at him with a tilted head. Probably feeling my eyes on him, he fluttered his eyes open and looked at me with an innocent look. “Try dancing!” Jisung shouted, blinking his eyelids rapidly. I only narrowed my eyes in response. Jisung groaned and suddenly brought his hands out to hold my wrist, eventually holding my hands in his.

“You said we can do what I like. And I like dancing. It relieves my stress. I’m sure it’ll have the same effect on you if you actually try.” Jisung begged. He slowly brought my hands up, moving side to side, urging me to follow my lead. I was skeptical. This was never my thing. My body was as stiff as stone when I tried following Jisung. I didn’t know how he was simply so natural and fluid. He wasn’t trying hard at all, unlike me. “Hey.” Jisung suddenly whispered, leaning forward so his face was just mere inches away from mine. My breathing hitched in my throat. “You’re trying too hard. Loosen up. Feel the music.” Jisung’s advise was soothing, whispers that went in my ears and could stay in my mind for ages as he looked into my eyes and searched for the specks of uncertainty that he so desperately want to get rid of.

I closed my eyes and relaxed my shoulders. With Jisung’s large hands still with mine, Jisung slowly and naturally pulled me closer to him. I composed myself and tried to keep my cool as much as possible, putting my mind at peace and solely focusing on the music. Jisung hummed and tried to move me again. This time, I was slowly able to let my body loose, getting the beat of the song into my head and slowly bobbing my head to it. I couldn’t help but smile as I began to move however I want, being free. “You’re doing it!” Jisung shouted happily, letting go of my hands and allowing our bodies to dance.

I wasn’t looking at the mirror this whole time. But when I did, I grimaced in disgust, leaning back and sticking out my tongue. “Jeez I look so ugly dancing.” I sighed with a frown. Jisung laughed loudly and nodded. “Indeed. But that’s the whole point. No one’s here to judge you. I can be weird with you, if that’s what you want.” Jisung clasped his hands behind him and leaned forward again, flashing his cheeky smile. I scoffed. “Please, how can a great dancer like you dance weirdly? I mean look at you. Everything you do is flawless.” I huffed out, folding my arms.

Another song began to play. This time it was a slow one. Nothing sad or emotional, it felt like a song that was meant to bring yourself back down to earth. “I wasn’t even good last time. It took a lot of effort to get to where I am today.” Jisunv explained carefully, weary so that he wouldn’t sound like he was beinf boastful. Jisung suddenly looked up to the ceiling thoughtfully and after a moment he opened his mouth like a light bulb of thought above his head switched itself on.

Jisung immediately ran to the door, flicking the switch and turning the lights off. It was dark, but some light was still able to shine through from the cracks of the door, making me see Jisung’s figure, but not the details of his face only if I looked close enough. He went back to me and said, “There. With the lights closed, you can do whatever and I won’t see it clearly.” Jisung shrugged triumphantly. I chuckled and nodded my head in agreement.

After that, multiple songs continued to play. His playlist was probably on shuffle mode but they were all songs I could dance to. I could see Jisung and I moving in the mirror. Again, not obvious, but still seen. Out of nowhere, Jisung pulled me in by grabbed my wrist lightly. He pulled me hard till my chest bumped into his. “Sorry.” He whispered, chuckling awkwardly. Jisung was clumsy, yet cute i. his own way. Another feature of his I began to take note of. It took me awhile to realise how close we were. He could probably feel my breath on his skin at this moment.

I looked up from his chest, meeting his eyes. Suddenly, my surroundings blanked. The music drowned out into nothing and the darkness of the room got even darker. And at the same time, Jisung’s face began to be the only thing that was clear to me. I did notice how attractive he was. But this situation was only making it ten times harder for me to handle to emotions that suddenly spurred inside me. My heart was beating fast and my cheat began to clench tightly, giving me no air to breath in as I stood there breathless for a long moment. Jisung didn’t move either, his eyes wandering my face as if looking at every inch.

It was at this moment that got me to think that indeed, I was stress-free. I wasn’t thinking about the pile of books I had to read and analyse. I wasn’t thinking about what was due next week and what my schedule was. All I had my focus on was Jisung and I. The freedom and lightness I was feeling. It was something I never felt for so long. It’s as if I barely knew such a feeling existed. And all it took was doing something that I wasn’t even good at. Doing it with Jisung. It would be too early to say this, but he could very well be the first person that made me feel this way in my whole college life.

“That wasn’t so bad, right?” Jisung beamed at me as we made our way back to the counter to return the keys. I breathed out a light chuckle and sighed in satisfaction. “Mhm. It was actually... very fun.” I puckered my lips. Jisung went to the counter and leaned forward after placing the key down for the woman to take. He whispered something to her and she nodded her head. She went to the back and Jisung turned around to meet my eyes. “Got a little present for you.” The woman came back with the same key, or perhaps a replica of it. Jisung downshifted his head in thanks and handed me the key. I took it wearily.

I glanced down at it and trailed my eyes back to Jisung. “Why would you give me the key?” I questioned. Jisung took a step in and had his eyes on the key in my hand. He brought his hand up and closed the key in my palm. “I’m giving you access to my most private space ever. That’s because I want you to feel the same way I do whenever I’m in there. Carefree. Effortless. You can go in whenever you want, whenever you need. I don’t have to be there with you all the time. You don’t even have to dance. Just let the atmosphere of the studio calm you. Basically, do whatever. I just want you to be free.”

With each word his voice got heavier with meaning and sincerity imbued, and my heart grew lighter with each breath.

Days go by, and though I didn’t meet Jisung again, he’d occasionally call me late at night to check up on me. And every time I said I was doing work, he’d let out an exaggerated groan and force me to sleep. He sounded like those mothers that keep nagging at you. And with his talkative nature, Jisung and I could go rambling for hours on the phone till one of us sleeps. It’ll mostly be me since I could already drif off to dream land the moment my body hits the bed.

Today, I was feeling trapped in my dorm room. Something in me was feeling the urge for an escape as the walls caved in with every hour passing by. My brain was beginning to slow its gears and I wasn’t able to boost my motivation back up. I glanced to my phone where it showed the time blaring onto my face. “It’s only a ten minute walk.” With a shrug, I dumped everything I wanted to get done by tonight and headed out the door, not giving a single care to look neat and going out in my sweater and sweatpants.

I went into the building, it was dark with only the moonlight from outshine shining in through the glass entrance. I made my way to the dance studio, key in my hand that I already shoved into the pockets of my sweater on my way here due to the cold of the night. I unlocked the door and entered. I didn’t bother turning on the lights. Instead I switched on the small lamplight that Jisung told me he placed there in case I needed it. I silently thank Jisung in my mind as I began to unpack my things.

I took one look around the studio. It was spacious, the plank floors leaving the space wide open just for me. Though I came here to do work, my mind was slowly trailing off to Jisung. His figure slowly appeared, picturing him in my mind as I let his shadows dance in the dark. It was his dance that caught my eye and it was his personality that was making me crave to know him more. I was mesmerised, enchanted by every move he made. Every word he spoke, every clumsy gesture. It was all those things clumped into one that was sucking me in.

I startled out of my thoughts with a quick shake of my head and got to work. Quite a long time had passed by. Jisung was right. The atmosphere of the studio, silent, peaceful, nothing to disturb my serenity. For some reason, I didn’t think twice when I grabbed my phone to call Jisung at this timing. Before I could even press on his contact number, my eyes flickered to the time. 2:30AM. For one moment I thought he’d be asleep. But with remembering about his call service, I knew he’d still be up. My hopes filled me up with I called and placed the phone on speaker phone, placing my phone back down beside me while I continued to write.

Jisung picked up in a matter of seconds. “Hey! How are you?” I smiled softly. No matter the time and place, he never failed to sound cheerful and bursting with energy. It felt as if he was being like that just for me. “Nothing. Just work.” Should not have said that. “What?! It’s two in the damn morning? How are you even- no more studying. Makes me puke every time I hear that.” Jisung feigned a gag and I laughed loudly in response to his disgusted reaction. “I’m almost done, alright? I’m actually at the music room. It’s quite nice being here.” Jisung hummed and I leaned back, placing my hands behind me. “Oh you’re there? Want me to join you?” Jisung’s voice suddenly grew excited. The sudden burst of energy shocked me. How was he able to be so energetic in the dead morning?

“You don’t have to! I was just about to go anyways.” I squinted my eyes and formed a quizzical look on my face. Why did I even say that? I wasn’t even about to leave. “I don’t have classes tomorrow so I can stay up. I know you don’t have any either.” I raised an eyebrow, my eyes going to the screen as I saw Jisung’s name still flashing at me. “What are you even suggesting?” I questioned with a confused tone. Jisung smacked his lips. “Mm to have a night out with you? We didn’t go out for so long.” Jisung cried out. I gaped my mouth open ever so slightly and tilted my head a few degrees at his suggestion.

I leaned forward to my phone, my voice lowering itself to a whisper. “You... actually want that?” I blinked my eyes rapidly, waiting for his answer. Jisung breathed in once and said, “I just said that, didn’t I?” I frowned. “But I want you to rest and-”

“Already out the door!” Jisung ended the call. I sighed. But a smile cracked on my lips at the thought of him coming here.

“What is all this mess?” Jisung complained in disgust. Face scrunched up and nose crinkled at the sight of my books and papers while he helped me to slide it back into my tote bag. He grabbed a stack and placed it on his thigh. Flipping through. I could only see cluelessness in his eyes. “Jeez. This is so not to my liking. Or understanding.” Jisung shrugged and shoved it into the bag, making it the last stack.

Jisung stood up and carried it on his shoulder, instantly crying out as he leaned over to the side where he hung the bag, the weight of it pulling him down. “How do you carry these all day?!” Jisung shouted with utmost shock. I simply shrugged and made my way for the door. “You’d be surprised at how much my shoulder hurts every week.” I said nonchalantly due to the fact it was truly something I’ve gotten used to. I glanced over my shoulder, seeing Jisung bringing himself back up and trying to get used to the weight while walking to me. I opened the door and with a kind smile, moved my body aside to give way for him to exit, which he gladly thanked for with a whisper.

“Anyways, there’s a twenty four hour ice cream shop that just opened nearby. Are you in for a treat?” Jisung questioned, looking down at me. I turned my gaze from the floor and to him, glancing sideways for a quick thought before nodding. “Sure.” I simply replied. I could only follow Jisung, once again not knowing where he wanted to take me. I was familiar with the neighbourhood around campus of course. But I’ve been staying at the campus for so long that I never got the chance to find out what was new about it. Such as a new ice cream shop I never knew existed till now.

The walk there was comfortable silence. I took this time to look at Jisung’s outfit. He was wearing his signature black adidas jacket, track pants and a black cap. It felt like it was something unique only to him. A person I could identify instantly with what he wears. I like Jisung in it. It was a lazy look but he somehow managed to pull it off, naturally good looking. My focus trailed down to what I was wearing, and I couldn’t help but think about just how bad I looked at this time of the night.

Jisung once again abruptly stopped. I was able to dodge him this time and stand beside him. He looked inside the shop while I had my eyes on the sign that said they were open. “They actually do open twenty four seven.” I muttered, instantly realising that Jisung had already entered the shop when I heard the sound of the bells above the door ringing, the door swinging open. I quickly caught up to the door, making it just in time before it closed fully and entered.

I stood beside Jisung, the two of us scanning through the menu above the counter. “Is this your first time here?” I asked. Jisung bobbed his shoulders. “It is. You?” I shook my head. “I didn’t have time to be going out and trying out food that the neighbourhood has to offer. I stick to the food on campus most of the time.” Jisung scoffed softly and turned to me. “Which is practically convenience store food. How boring of you.” My jaw dropped and I breathed out an unbelievable chuckle, punching his shoulder gently. “And how rude of you to say that.” I feigned exasperation and looked up to the menu again after the two of us laughed softly.

I was the first to walk up to the counter, Jisung quickly following behind as I felt his presence being awfully close to my back. “Can I get three scoops of chocolate chip cookie?” The woman at the cashier nodded and turned her attention from me to Jisung. “You?” She questioned. I turned my head to him as well. Jisung squinted his eyes while he looked up to the menu again. He stuttered for a moment before responding. “I’ll just get two scoops of strawberry swirl.” The woman cracked a small smile, almost invisible as she keyed in our order. She told the price and looked at the two of us, waiting for the cash. When Jisung didn’t respond, I quickly took out my wallet. I glanced at hi for a brief moment, noticing that he was looking at me and didn’t hear the cashier. But before I could even slide out my dollar note, Jisung slammed my hand down lightly and took out his money in one swift motion.

“Thanks.” I softly whispered as the two of us walked to the side t wait for our ice cream. I folded my arms and placed my weight on one leg. Jisung sighed loudly, assumingly to break the silence between us. “Three scoops? That’s a lot.” Jisung mentioned. I frowned and waved a lazy hand at him. “Calm down I’ll pay for the three scoops. I’m just craving for it.” I breathed out, now feeling slightly bad that I spent a lot of Jisung’s money since the price was quite expensive. Jisung looked down on me, quirking up a questioning brow. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just saying it’s a lot. You don’t need to pay me.” Jisung quickly retorted with assurance imbued into his tone.

My mouth formed an ‘O’ at the realisation and slowly nodded my head. “We can’t be eating here, right? So where are we going to go?” Jisung ruffled his hair, adjusting the strands that laid naturally and nicely down his forehead. I was still able to see his eyes despite having it covered by the layer of hair. “Our spot.” I blinked my eyes rapidly. “Our spot?” I echoed back, completely clueless.

Jisung flashed me a disappointed expression along with a sigh. “The studio. That, or we can just eat at the park nearby. Oh and don’t expect me to protect you if we get kidnapped. I won’t be strong enough to protect you.” I laughed at the joke, Jisung chuckling along with me. “You dance with such energy and you’re telling me you can’t beat a kidnapper?” I scoffed loudly in amusement. “You’re quite something.” I added on. Jisung looked down, somewhat in a shy manner and smiled before lifting his head back up. “I really am.”

-Just how much was I missing out on

We walked out, ice cream in hand. Jisung seemed to be texting someone with his free hand while I simply looked down on my ice cream and be the first to dig in. The bite felt like a trip down memory lane. How was it that I didn’t enjoy simple things like ice cream during college? Don’t get me wrong I do still eat ice cream, but I never experienced one that tasted authentic, way better than the ones sold in convenience stores. “You seem to be enjoying it.” Jisung suddenly let out, making me head shot up to him and then to my ice cream, which I already noticed that I took more than just one bite already.

Jisung slid his phone into his track pants and got to eating. His jaw dropped and his mouth hung open so wide that it could reach the floor. With the ice cream nestled on the surface of his tongue, he gasped loudly and looked to me instantly. “This is so good!” Jisung squealed with much happiness and excitement, taking another bite instantly and moaning in satisfaction. The two fo us ate in silence as we walked, allowing ourselves to sink into the ice cream’s captivating flavours like a bath.

We entered the park. It was dimly lit, with only the lamps that lined the pathways and lighting the place with an orange hue. Jisung took quick steps forward to sit on the nearest bench. I sat down beside him, a small smile forming on my lips. All that we could see were the lights and trees that had its leaves and branches swaying in the gentle breeze. Jisung had his full attention on his ice cream, ow seeming to be taking small bites to preserve the ice cream and take a longer time to finish it.

“One question. How long have you not come to this park? Or have you never?” Jisung’s question got my mind blank. I thought about it for quite some time, till Jisung had to hum to see if he even got my attention. “The only time I’ve been here was two years ago. For helping out at an event as a job.” Jisung moved his lips to one side. “Question two. Was majoring in law what you wanted to do?” I already knew this conversation was about to get deep. And at that moment, if I’m being really honest, I’m glad Jisung’s the one I’m having this conversation with.

“Yeah. At first I thought lawyers looked cool in those Korean dramas. My only goal at that time was to do any major that I seemed to be interested in and one that could get me rich. Those were my only two requirements that satisfied me. I was always hardworking but I never knew my work could get this overloaded. I wasn’t ready for it.” I took in a deep breath to compose myself, realising how real I was getting about myself. “I only started having breakdowns at the end of last year. Never bothered to take a break due to constant anxiety on how much I could miss out on. All because I want that simple goal of doing well in college for a job that’ll give me good pay. I didn’t even think about what I’d do with the money. I never bothered to expand my goal beyond that. And I think that makes me very low, and shallow minded.”

I slowly tited my head up, wanting the cool air to cool my face. The sky was nothing but plain ink black darkness with only the small moon shining it’s moonlight on us. I closed my eyes, not really caring if Jisung responded to anything I just said. Letting it out for him to hear was all I wanted, all that I need. I kept my breathing steady and collected, the simple calmness of the quiet surrounding putting my mind at ease. “But have you ever thought that you don’t need to keep up with whatever’s around you?” Jisung whispered. I fluttered my eyelids open and brought my eyes down to meet his. We locked eyes, and Jisung reached out in front of me to grab my now empty cup, making my breath hitched in my throat. He always made me stop breathing whenever he got close. What was he, death?

“What do you mean?” Jisung puckered his lips, seeming to be deep in thought before replying. “I get that you want to do well. But you don’t always have to go at the speed this world’s at. It’s not always in the hustle.” Jisung whispered carefully. His eyes never met mine. And with each word and every one that was going to come after, could drive it’s words deep into my heart and soul, like he was seeing right through me. “Look around you. This place, the studio. You would’ve never discovered them if you were so focused. Slow down to see the prettier things in life. Isn’t that what they always say?” HIs words were definitely meant to bring an impact. And it did. My heart sank, not in a bad way. But simply because the realisation and reality was weighting my heart down.

“Technically, you introduced me to the studio and park.” Jisung brought his hand out, as if putting his words on it and placing it in front of me. “Exactly. You wouldn’t even get to know me if you never took time to look at your surroundings and finding my note.” I licked my bottom lip that was extremely dry. My eyes absentmindedly went down to his lips, that still looked unbelievably smooth despite the dryness of the air. “I told you, didn’t I? I can be here for you. Whatever you need. So don’t always think college is everything. I mean, look at me.” I chuckled.

But Jisung was right. I did took time to look at him as a person. He was doing something that wasn’t just interest, but what he loved and had passion for. He’s able to do well and not have to stress over things too much and too often. Jisung was able to carry himself how he wants to and be satisfied with life when I would be satisfied with mine long years down the road. He was the physical representation of ukiyo. The floating world that didn’t bother about the worries of life, and living it his own way, no matter what could appen to him. He was a ukiyo standalone.

“Slow down to see the prettier things the life.”

Jisung might just be that prettier thing.

Jisung and I got close, real quick. It wasn’t a surprise. I already knew I’d want to meet him more often, wanting him to be my escape from the whirlpool of life. He was always a breath of fresh air, a sight for sore eyes. He never failed to make the time I spent with him meaningful to the last second. I quickly grew to realise that I needed to meet him on a regular basis. I needed to take my mind off work, and he was the only one who could do it for me.

I was just finishing lecture, carrying the heavy pounds of books in my hand with much struggle. I was trying to juggle my book on my forearm while the other tried to find for my phone in my pocket to text Jisung, saying I wanted him to come over to accompany me. With a quiet grunt I tried to type with one hand, which to me was an extreme struggle. Just when I decided to stop walking to get myself gathered together, I looked up from my phone, suddenly seeing a group of guys walking just past me.

Murmurs and whispers from different angles could be heard from far away, I raised my brow, watching their backs. One that caught my eye was the adidas jacket. I knew instantly from his figure and bright orange natural looking hair that it was Jisung. I instantly ran up to him, shoving my phone into my bag to just I could have a free hand to tap on his shoulder. “Jisung!” I screamed happily, after giving him a tap I placed a firm grip on his shoulder to stop him. The other guys surrounding him turned around, noticing how Jisung abruptly stopped.

“Who’s she?” One of them asked, his voice sounding arrogant and cocky from the get-go. Jisung gulped and looked left and right, glancing over his shoulder. He suddenly seemed anxious. Jisung blinked his eyes rapidly, sucking in his lips while he rubbed a nervous hand at the back of his neck. “I-I don’t know.” Jisung quickly replied. He stared at me for a moment, eyes cold and would probably feel like ice if I were to maintain it any longer. Jisung shoved away the hand I had on his shoulder roughly, only making me scoff loudly. “What the heck? Jisung you good?” I was about to reach my hand to punch him lightly on the shoulder, thinking that the way he’s acting was just a joke, but with him having quick reflexes, he got a firm grip on my wrist in a matter of seconds.

“Look. I don’t know you. Why are you treating me like you’re my friend?” Jisung’s words were meant to slice. And it worked. I was in disbelief, the large wave crashing over me and wiping me out and the words rolled hard on his tongue. Jisung slammed my wrist down, my whole arm swinging backward slightly from the strong impact before it fell down my side. I looked to my hand and trailed my gaze back to Jisung. I stiffened, trying not to shiver under his gaze. What was going on with him? Another friend of his placed a hand on his shoulder and jerked his head forward. Jisung pushed me off with his cold gaze one more time and turned around sharply to walk away. I gaped, eyes widened as the other looked to each with unsure faces and disappeared along with Jisung.

I stumbled a few steps back from Jisung’s impact. The impact in his words, actions. Why was he like that? He said he didn’t know me. I took a moment to head over to a nearby bench to place my books down and have a break, but it was mostly to think over about why Jisung suddenly acted different. He never seemed like that before. He looked... cold and unapproachable. That look in his eyes when he made eye contact with me, it felt as if he never knew me at all. What was with that sudden shield?

Later that day, I tried to text Jisung. Give him a call, sending multiple texts. He wasn’t responding to any of it. He used to always be free 24/7. Why was he suddenly not online, especially after what had just happened. I wanted to know why. This was the first time he ever acted like that towards me. And it was too odd. We would never meet too often. But without him texting me at least once a day, you could say I was falling apart again when he began to not get into contact with me for a whole week after the incident.

I tried to find him again. Seeing him on campus whenever, I tried to approach him. This time I walked up to him quickly and had a firm grip on his wrist. “Jisung? What’s wrong with you the other day? You acted as if you didn’t even know me.” I said with a nervous chuckle, wanting to seem like it didn’t bother but failed tremendously. Jisung looked at me blankly, expressionless. Like nothing went through his mind with that I said. Or even looking at me. Jisung bit his lower lip, glancing sideways as if he didn’t want to give a single care about my presence.

He slid my grip off his wrist. “I shouldn’t be talking to you.” Jisung said in a monotonous manner. He glanced to his left and right quickly, eyes meeting mine for a brief moment. And in that small second of eye contact, I felt something. His eyes looked sad, like he was feeling sorry. But that look disappeared as quickly as it appeared, and Jisung was out of sight once again.

I was in bed, eyes up to the plain white ceiling that gave me the free will to think about anything. Anything and everything, but it all lead to Jisung. I simply couldn’t shake it off. The way Jisung looked at me. I felt the impact of his push so vividly. I kept replaying the scene in my mind. It was just so not Jisung. It was so off from what he’s like. It seemed like it wasn’t Jisung at all. I turned to my side, phone right beside my face. I picked it up, instantly going to my contacts and clicking on Jisung’s name.

“What’s going on with you...” I said in a soft whisper, my mind trailing off yet again as I stared at Jisung’s name on my screen, so bright and so big. Yet it suddenly felt distant. Jisung, felt distant. A long while had past, and I still contemplated on whether to give him a call. I gave up doing so a few days back. Why did I still have hope? He didn’t seem to want anything to do with me. And I knew it wasn’t because he’s busy. He didn’t want to contact me. He’s ignoring me.

I closed my eyes, taking in a deep breath, slow and steady to calm my mind. I was beginning to jump to conclusions. And I really would never want to have that perception of Jisung. Never once thought of him that way, and never will. I would never. I groaned out loud, turning off my phone and placing it back down beside me harshly with the screen faced down. I curled myself up into a ball. It had only been a week. And I was already missing him. His voice, his clumsiness, his cuteness. The sudden change of his attitude, to the whole ignoring and growing distant thing. It was too much. Again I was falling, cracking at places where it got pieced together when I was with Jisung.

Unable to sit still, I got up and walked to my study table, slamming my body down and beginning to do work. I furiously began writing, doing whatever I can to suppress myself. I was growing mad, and if I had to let out my anger, I’d be doing it in the productive way. However, I was only able to keep that adrenaline up for a few minutes till I got to frustrated that I threw my pen on the wall in front of my and balled fists into my hair, screaming till my voice disappeared. I shut up eyes close, allowing the tears that had been welling up this whole time to finally fall, sending myself into a breakdown.

I cried and shouted with all my heart. I couldn’t beat it. I couldn’t do anything without Jisung. I didn’t know what to feel. Anger, rational, disappointment. Perhaps it was all those balled into one emotion I didn’t know the name of. I shook my head vigorously, running a hand through my hair and slamming both hands down on the table, wanting to swallow down my flood of emotions. I can’t be going through this. I had work to do. Jisung’s a waste of my time, and my energy. My feelings for him will not stop me from moving forward. I knew I shouldn’t have met him. He led me to this, to suffering even more on top of my large pile of other stresses I had to handle. He was once my ukiyo, but how he’s far from being one.

“I can’t fucking keep doing this!” Jisung screamed, pacing back and forth in his dorm. Luckily Renjun wasn’t here to hear his rant. He’d been stressed out about it for weeks. It’s almost been a few months. He couldn’t keep this up. He was this close to showing his anger if his friends were to ever hung out with him again. Jisung had one arm wrapped around his torso while the other rested and had his thumb grazing over his bottom lip. He was missing her. He wanted to see her. But he couldn’t. Not when his friends are around 24/7.

At the party later that night, Jisung had no mood for any of it. Not the drinking, not the games. He was at this stupid party just because his friends dragged him. Although he never said no to the offer. Jisung simply went with it to satisfy his friends. He was sick of the people around him reeking of alcohol, people bumping into him every which way, the loud music that could possibly bloa his eardrums. Just how many of these parties had he been to already? And he still couldn’t get used to this.

Jisung was standing by the drinks area, watching his friends on the couch and getting wasted. They’re finding their own way home somehow. Jisung knew they were capable, so there wasn’t any reason why he had to take care of them. He seemed to be so fixated on one spot that he didn’t even realise Jeno was standing beside him after he let out a, “You seem to be having fun.” Jisung came zinging back to reality. “Yeah.”

“I know you aren’t.” Jeno gulped down the red cup and placed it down on the table behind them. He leaned back casually, eyeing Jisung which intimidated Jisung just a little bit. “What’s been going on with you?” Jeno leaned his head forward and closer to Jisung, making sure his words could be heard over the loud music. “Nothing.” Jeno scoffed. “It can’t be nothing.”

Jisung turned his head to face Jeno, flashing him a look that read, “I really don’t care.” Jeno smacked his lips and folded his arms. “I’m the closest one to you. Even though they all treat you like you’re our own baby, I’m the one that knows you best. So spill. There’s no hiding from me.” Jisung groaned out loudly and grabbed Jeno’s wrist, pulling him to a room closed and isolated from this mess Jisung simply hated.

Jisung went in and slammed himself onto the bed, sitting on the edge while Jeno raised both his eyebrows in shock at the little man’a temper, closing the door behind him slowly as the music finally got drowned out. “So?” Jeno began, leaning against the door and placing one leg over the other. Jisung threaded his fingers through his hair, keeping his hand at the back of his head as he tilted upwards to find a way to say his feelings, as if the words were out there for him on the ceiling.

“I have this girl I like. We’ve been hanging out for a long while. But we stopped because one day I decided to be a prick and push her off when she saw me with the rest of us.” Jeno opened his mouth and clapped his hand once. “It’s that girl isn’t it?!” Jeno pointed at Jisung with surprise. Jisung wasn’t exactly sure if Jeno and Jisung were thinking of the same girl, but either way Jisung simply nodded.

“I don’t know why I did it in the first place. I guess I was embarrassed of you guys knowing her and you’ll keep bugging me about it all the time if you knew.” Jisung groaned out, the frustration expertly imbued into his tone though it took no effort to do so. Jeno narrowed his eyes on Jisung, a look that made him know that a long lecture was about to come for him. And he couldn’t escape.

As Jeno pushed his back off the door and walked forward, he said, “So what? You didn’t want us knowing you have a girl you like because you think we’ll invade your privacy? If you want to know, most of us guessed it already. You kept going out at such late hours almost all the time. Did you think Renjun wouldn’t have noticed?” Jeno tilted his head, making sure it was extremely obvious. “That’s why we were shocked when you did that to her.” Jeno added on. Jeno squinted his eyes and blinked them rapidly. “Then why don’t you just explain it to her?”

Jisung frowned, head slowly tilting down to cover his face. “Because I felt bad for doing it and thought she’d be mad at me and wouldn’t want to talk to me again.” Jisung sighed loudly for three days. “I didn’t-” Jisung inhaled deeply. “I didn’t want to face her because I didn’t want to feel the pain of having her get mad at me.” Jeno chuckled, the kind that was in disbelief. “Jisung! You don’t even know if she felt that way!” Jeno slammed a palm to his forehead. “Yes she’d be mad but you should be making the first move to apologise to her! She’s probably crying in bed wondering why you suddenly cut off all ties with her, you dummy!”

While Jeno was giving him an earful, Jisung fiddled with this thumbs, scarping at the hang nails and growing deep in thought. Jeno was right. Why didn’t he do anything to solve it? He simply backed off because he was too afraid to face her after what happened. He was caring for his own feelings more than hers. And now she’s definitely in a way worsr position than he was. “Fuck I’m dumb.” Jeno hummed in agreement, only making Jisung shoot a glare at him while letting out a ‘tsk’.

“Might be too late but talk to her. Right now she needs an explanation. No matter how long ago it was.” Jeno had his voice firm and advisory.

Jisung made his way to her dorm. He had a sinking, anxious feeling in his chest while he walked down the hallway and inched closer to her door.

I was at my table, still studying the life out of me. I knew I’d be walking out of this dorm brain drained and walking like a living corpse when I go for my lecture tomorrow. Just when I wanted to rest my head down, there was a knock on the door. I thought I misheard, but after a long moment the knocking came again. I quickly walked up to the door, swinging it open. Everything paused. My motion, my eyes. It was glued to the person in front of me, which was Jisung.

“Can I come-” “I have work to do.”

I tried to close the door, but Jisung stopped it with his foot. “Please. I owe you an explanation.” Jisung said, voice filled with softness and sincerity. I couldn’t bear to resist. I knew I never could if he came. I sucked in my lips, sighed quietly and opening the door. I walked in, sitting at my study table and turning my chair around. I watched Jisung close the door behind hIm, making his way to the bed, each step seemed to be weary and careful, watching out for himself with every move to make sure he didn’t do anything wrong.

Jisung and I locked eyes for a long time, silence circulating the air. I cocked my brow up in curiosity as to why he wasn’t saying anything. Jisung quickly noticed my change of expression and shook his head as if bringing himself back from a moment of deep thinking. “I’m sorry. For that day. I know I was rude. First I did that, then I completely ignored you.” Jisung bit his lower lip, now avoiding eye contact like he was too embarrassed to meet my eyes. “I did it because I was scared of what my friends thought of me having someone.” My quizzical expression became more prominent.

I sat there, not sure of what to think. Like I said, I never wanted to think badly of Jisung. But after hearing that, it seemed that my underlined feeling of anger became to surface itself after being forced to suppress itself for far too long. “So you did that to me then you ignored me. On top of that completely removing me out of your life like I was invisible. Then you didn’t bother to try and fix this sooner. All this because of what you’re friends would think of me? Of us?” I pointed to myself, my voice growing scarily louder with each sentence.

I smacked my lips and nodded. I didn’t need his verbal reply to know the answers to that. And it disappointed me. “I never thought I’d say this. But that was shallow. Very shallow of you.” I ran a hand through my hair. “Did you know how much I was going through when I couldn’t contact you? All those times I texted and called, you didn’t reply to any of them. And why? For your pride? While I was here balling my eyes out every night unable to do my work.”

I allowed a moment of silence to pass, though I could’ve continued without having to catch my breath. “You used to be my escape. Someone I came to when I needed to destress, be free. But now... you’re just the person that’s stopping me from my goal. Getting work done, it could be stressing yes. But if I’m unable to do work just because of my feeling for someone as low as you...” I shut my eyes closed, wanting to hold back my tears. My opened my eyes and forced them to blare at Jisung with firmness. “I don’t see why you should be in my life anymore.”

I stood up, taking slowly strides to the door. I held the doorknob, turning it and opening the door. I brought my free hand out, motioning to Jisung. “Don’t come back. I can’t bear to see you anymore without having these confusing feelings. It’s something I shouldn’t be spending my time worrying about.” I said sternly. I watched Jisung. He seemed far from stable. He seemed to be cracking at the seams, he was at the edge of tears. He didn’t bother to hide them, the tears seeming to be clouding his vision as it welled up in his eyes. He had his eyes glued to the floor the whole time. A long moment went by till he finally stood up and walked to the door.

Before Jisung left, he stood right in front of me. His eyes met mine, shivering with guilt and instant despair. It broke my heart to see him like this. But in situations like these, I had to choose. Either lose Jisung, or lose myself. “I’m sorry.” He muttered, almost inaudible. He blinked his eyes once and the tears streamed down his cheeks. I reached my hand out, slowly and shakil to place them on his shoulder. He looked down on it, simply letting it slide off when he went. He walked away, and I bit my bottom lip. That was the last moment I saw him.

Closing the door, I let my back lean against the door and slide down till I reached the floor. I thought I wouldn’t feel a single sense of sadness or regret. But at that moment, when I couldn’t even handle seeing Jisung’s back disappear as he walked down the hallway, the shell I had carefully built around my heart shattered, and no number of words of reassurance repeated to myself will piece it back together. I shook my head. If I kept my expectations low, I would stop feeling the throbbing. If I cut off all my emotions, I wouldn’t be so weak. And that was what I was determined to do.

Jisung felt every single word struck deep and low, like a bell toll that shook inside him. As the her hand fell off his shoulder, so,too, did the warmth. He began to shiver. Only cold and pain remained, sharp enough to numb everything else. All his adrenaline, gone, and with it, his sense of feeling. All his life, gone. The ground caved in, and he hit bottom.

Jisung walked away with a heavy heart. Everything he did for her. From the moment she unintentionally made that call to the last time they met, Jisung had it flashed in his mind like a movie tape. She was al the more right to be like this to him. He knew all too wel of the consequences. He had to bear this pain. It was the only right thing to do. He didn’t know how he’ll get over it. But even if he eventually does. he’ll never forget her. Not for a single second. Even if she would be shoved to the back of his mind, he’d dug up for it again. She meant so much to him. And how Jisung will be seeing her no longer.

“Jaehyun stop I swear!” I giggled loudly as Jaehyun continued to tickle my sides. He carried me away from the cashier with his arms around my waist. I laughed out loudly and beg him constantly to put me down. He finally did when I gave him a hard smack in the arm and made him wince.

“You’re laugh is cute.” Jaehyun said with a light chuckle. I rolled my eyes and folded my arms. “Yeah well you don’t have to keep tickling me for you to hear it.” I feigned exasperation, leaning forward against the counter to place my chin on the palm of my hand. “Really? Good to know but I’d still prefer to tickle you.” I shot Jaehyun a death glare and all he did was threw back a playful wink to which I responded with a ‘tsk’.

Jaehyun got close to ruffle my hair. And when he had his hand on my head, the bell above the door opened, signalling that someone entered. I swatted off Jaehyun’s hand, him laughing lowly at my defensive act as I pat down my apron. “Welcome to-” My voice stopped in its tracks. I was frozen. The moment I looked up, I instantly knew the person in front of me.

“Park Jisung.” I whispered, voice growing soft. I gulped, wanting to swallow away any feeling that might surface before I even continued. Our eyes locked. And Jisung... he was suddenly bringing in the sense of comfort through his gaze. I didn’t know how he did it. We’ve never met for almost two years. Yet here he was, suddenly showing up in front of my face, with not a single thing of him changed and giving me the exact same feeling I had back then.

“I’d like to talk. Over some black coffee?” Jisung offered, slowly pointing up to the menu, his eyes never leaving mine. I blinked my eyes rapidly and took this time to glance at Jaehyun, who seemed to he confused yet didn’t want to question or interrupt whatever was happening in front of me. “Why? You have no reason to.” I said simply with a nonchalant shrug. That was clearly a fake move.

“Just a chat. We used to be friends, didn’t we?” Jisung questioned back, pushing his shoulders back and allowing his chest to puff up ever so slightly with confidence. I didn’t know where he was going at, why he was here in the first place. Either way, I didn’t give him a reply, simply turning around to start making the coffee with Jaehyun giving me space.

I went to the table where Jisung was seated, placing the two cups of black coffee on the table. I took a seat at the opposite side. Tight silence circulated us. It made me want to choke due to how awkward it was. I was running my finger around the rim of the cup slowly. “Have you been well?” Jisung asked. “I’m doing great. Got into university and I’m working here part time.” I breathed out. “You?” I asked back. I was genuinely curious.

As much as I was able to get over Jisung, his unknown well being got me to he on edge whenever I thought of him. That could be said with my buried feelings for him as well. “Got admitted into an art school. I’m apparently capable enough to start my own dance crew.” Jisung breathed out a light chuckle and took a sip of coffee. “Look. What I’m here for is...”

Jisung closed his eyes for a moment before opening them back and have it darted to meet mine. “What I’m here for is that I want to start over.” I gave him an expressionless look, mainly because I didn’t know what emotion to show. It was all spiralled into something unrecognisable. A mix of lots of emotions. I had no reply for Jisung, which only gave him a signal to keep talking.

“Every day I’ve carried the burden of missing you. And each day it grew heavier and heavier. I knew it was the weight of my actions, their consequences. And I miss you too much. You meant so much to me, and you still do. I was trying to not break our friendship but I only made it worse. Trust me I regretted it everyday after that.” Jisung’s eyes softened and I grew weak under his gaze. It was gentle and light, it made me fall in a matter of seconds if I didn’t care to put in energy to have a guard up.

“And on top of that, it wasn’t just our friendship I missed. I missed it all. You. I didn’t get to say this, but I’ve liked you. And I always have. It was a feeling beyond the mutual one. It was something more and I came here afraid of how you’d think. I came anyway. Because I’d do anything to get to start over with you again.” I swallowed. It took me time to allow his words to sink in. I wasn’t able to form a reply right off the bat.

I did have feelings for Jisung as well. Though it wasn’t prominent at the start, it began to grew the more time we spent together, which was why it made the situation two years ago far more painful than it really was. Apparently Jisung felt that way as well.

“If I allow it, will you be my ukiyo again?” I whispered, looking down to my cup that I have yet to drink a singe drop of coffee from. Jisung leaned in closer and, his face now inches away from mine. My breath hitched in my throat. He still had this affect on me. The ability to have me frozen and stiff with his gaze and actions. It was something only he knew how to do, the only one who could do this to me.

“Your ukiyo, your Peter Pan. Please...” Jisung leaned forward to rest his chin on top of my head, tilting his head down slowly to place a soft, loving kiss on the crown of my head. One that made me feel as if he was touching something so precious and fragile, the most important thing in the world. “Take me back.” I closed my eyes and took in one deep breath.

“Take me back to the studio after my shift.”

187 notes · View notes

dynyamight · 3 years

Note

meet cute number 47 is interesting!

send me a writting ask

47. Texting the incorrect number but continuing the conversation.

“You got all that, right?” Shinsou asks, readjusting his stance, so others can leave their classroom door easily.

Midoriya hums absentmindedly. He’s still quickly jotting down the last few digits onto his planner. “And, you said tomorrow morning, around 7? At the library?”

“Yeah,” Shinsou shrugs, “Or anytime really. The deadline isn’t until next month, you know.”

“I kinda just want to get it done, as soon as possible.”

Shinsou breathes out a snort. “Figured you’d say that much. Just make sure you got my number. Repeat it, if you need to.”

“No time.” Midoriya drops his bag to the side, shoving his now closed notebook inside. “Thank you! I’ll text you later tonight!” He offers hurriedly, before taking off down the campus halls.

Shinsou’s warning falls deaf to his rushed mind.

He has to run the entire way, in order to graciously catch the last bus for the hour. Sweaty and flushed, Midoriya slumps into his seat in relief. Fortunately, he was able to cop a seat for himself, settling by the window and his backpack right next to him.

Staring out, Midoriya tries to remind himself of the rest of his priorities he needed to do.

He still needed to start on Doctor Chiyo’s online Physiology exam, and gather his notes for the open book portion. It was a bit bothersome to handle tests online, but if the rest of class prefers it, there’s nothing Midoriya can do about it.

Speaking of which, Ochako had requested for copies of those exact same notes, since apparently she barely writes anything during lectures. He wants to suggest to her to just simply take better notes, but alas, he will gladly help her out.

And, finally, Midoriya has to collect reliable, approved research articles for his and Shinsou’s debate, in their argumentative project in Communications. Being assigned “PRO SOCIAL MEDIA INFLUENCE”, while being the most uninvolved people on the internet, Midoriya and Shinsou had a lot of work to do.

Not to mention it was already 18:00 by the time he reached the school’s dormitories. And yet, he needed to shower, make dinner, water his plants, and watch the newest episode of his favorite drama, airing tonight.

University was eating him alive.

Thankfully, he’s able to complete half of his list.

He finishes the exam with a 98%, and quickly snaps the pages of his notes over to Ochako and Iida, making sure to highlight the main topics questioned in the exam. Ochako sends a ‘thank you’ gif, and Iida texts a long, yet endearing message of gratitude.

Midoriya doesn’t have time to shower, instead blasting the TV volume loud, as he waters his indoor plants at the same time. He overwaters them a little bit, busy glancing back at the screen for too long. But, at least he’s able to watch the episode. He pouts when it ends on a cliffhanger, almost drowning his bonsai tree in frustration.

He’s only able to warm up a plate of leftovers, and read through only one research article, by the time it’s already blinking 21:30 on his phone. Sighing, Midoriya closes his laptop and grabs his cell phone instead.

An all nighter wasn’t preferable. But, if Shinsou is working overtime at his late night job, Midoriya supposes he can stay up and keep looking through more articles, until he has at least the required ten.

Flipping open his planner, Midoriya inputs Shinsou’s number into his phone. He adds his name, a contact photo of him sleeping, and finally taps a quick message.

(21:38) < You working?

When Shinsou doesn’t respond right away, Midoriya simply sets aside his phone on his desk. Stretching his arms, he sighs in defeat, now expecting Shinsou to be stuck at work.

He’s never worked at a restaurant, but he bets Friday nights can get pretty busy. And, Shinsou always complains that group outings and dates tend to stay over, even after the place is supposed to close. And, Midoriya trusts his word.

So, by the time his phone dings, Midoriya has been clicking through more articles on social media, bookmarking a few to go over later, as he went.

He lifts his phone, and with a bright screen, a message stares back at him.

shinsou hitoshi (21:58) > Who’s this

Oh, he did forget to specify. But, Midoriya smiles, having a small prank in mind. There was no harm in teasing his friends, let alone Shinsou, who definitely needed a good laugh, now and then.

(21:58) < It's the cutie from your communications class ;)

shinsou hitoshi (21:58) > So, no one

(21:59) < Haha! I guess you’re right about that

(21:59) < Anyways, it’s Izuku! You still working late, Hitoshi?

shinsou hitoshi (21:59) > This ain’t Hitoshi

Midoriya's face drops, blinking. Oh god, did he mistype the number?

(21:38) < Wait, you’re not???

Another text pops up, shortly after.

shinsou hitoshi (22:02) > You got the wrong number

Embarrassment burning his entire face red, Midoriya wishes he could delete himself from the world.

(22:03) < I’m so so so so sorry!

(22:03) < God, I thought I wrote down my friend’s number right

(22:03) < But, I was in this stupid rush to get on the bus that I didn’t make sure

(22:04) < And, listen, if I had missed that bus, I would’ve had to wait

(22:04) < Not like a few minutes wait

(22:04) < Like, a whole two hours wait!

shinsou hitoshi (22:05) > I didn’t ask

Deleting the conversation, Midoriya erases the new contact completely. And instead, he looks back to his planner, and retypes the numbers in his phone onto a new conversation.

Hopefully, he has typed the correct series of digits.

(22:07) < Hey, Hitoshi! It’s Izuku

unknown (22:08) > ...

unknown (22:08) > What the actual fuck

unknown (22:08) > You've still got the wrong number, you goddamn idiot

Slamming his phone onto his desk, Midoriya grabs a pillow off his bed and shoves it in his face. The temptation to scream sounds awfully pleasant, but it’s too late at night to do so. His dorm neighbors would definitely wonder what the hell is wrong with him.

What’s wrong? Oh, he has completely done one of the most dreaded imaginary scenarios in his head; text a complete stranger. Twice.

What was he supposed to do now? Never text back? Delete it? Block it?

How is he supposed to contact Shinsou now?

His phone dings again.

Lifting the pillow off his face slightly, Midoriya eyes his phone warily from his swivel chair.

That definitely wasn’t supposed to happen. Another text from the same stranger sounds a bit unheard of.

After a seconds-long hesitation, Midoriya lifts his phone and opens it once more.

unknown (22:13) > Double check next time

unknown (22:13) > You can fucking wait the two hours, dumbass

Midoriya grows a little irked. He has a bad feeling that his stranger isn’t too friendly, to say that least.

There was literally no reason to text back something so rude.

(22:14) < Well, that wasn’t nice

unknown (22:15) > Wasn’t trying to be

(22:15) < ..Are you always like this?

unknown (22:16) > Pretty much

(22:16) < That’s sad

unknown (22:17) > What’s fucking sad is that I was woken up from my sleep

unknown (22:17) > Because a damn moron didn’t write down the right number

Midoriya winces. He hadn’t even thought about the other person’s predicament, let alone if he had interrupted anything.

(22:20) > I really didn’t mean to do that, I’m sorry :(

unknown (22:22) > Yeah whatever

(22:24) > You should try to go back to sleep, then

unknown (22:25) > I was

unknown (22:25) > But the same moron from before keeps texting me

(22:27) > Who?

(22:33) > Oh.

(22:33) > It’s me, huh?

unknown (22:34) > No shit

(22:35) > Right, of course. My bad!

(22:35) > I’m going to just stop now

unknown (22:36) > Thanks

(22:36) > For the umpteenth time, sorry! ><

(22:37) > Okay, Okay! I’m stopping now, for real

Midoriya desperately needs to call it a night.

After going through his nightly routine, he slips under his bedsheets, exhausted. He sets an alarm for 5:00 on his phone, hoping Shinsou will show up at the library, regardless of the missing confirmation text on Midoriya’s end.

He keeps his phone on awhile longer, swiping through his professors’ emails, before a surprising text notification pops in front of him.

unknown (23:01) > FUCK YOU FUCK YOU

(23:02) > …

(23:02) > What was that for??

unknown (23:04) > I CAN’T SLEEP

unknown (23:04) > GOD, I CAN’T GO BACK TO FUCKING SLEEP

unknown (23:05) > AND IT’S YOUR FAULT

(23:06) > What do you expect me to do????

unknown (23:07) > HAHAHAHA OH DON’T WORRY

unknown (23:07) > IF I CAN’T SLEEP, NEITHER CAN YOU

unknown (23:08) > AND IF YOU TURN YOUR PHONE OFF I WILL SEND HELLFIRE

(23:09) > Wait

(23:09) > No, please

(23:09) > My alarm is on my phone, I need it on

(23:10) > I need to go to an important meeting for a group project at 7:00!

unknown (23:10) > Aw, really? :0?!

(23:11) > Yeah! I really do!

unknown (23:11) > Sike. I don’t fucking care

unknown (23:12) > Hope you eat shit tomorrow

(23:13) > ..Why are you like this?

(23:13) > I could literally be a twelve year old, for all you know

unknown (23:14) > I doubt fucking twelve years do group projects

unknown (23:15) > But whether you’re a damn infant, or grown adult, I hate you

(23:16) > I wouldn’t say I hate you. That’s too harsh

(23:16) > But, wow, you are very unlikable :/

unknown (23:17) > That’s the fucking nicest thing anyone has said about me

(23:18) > It wasn’t supposed

(23:19) > Nevermind.

(23:19) > Do you have any friends? Just might as well ask

unknown (23:21) > Surprisingly yeah

(23:22) > Oh, so you also agree. That it’s a surprise

(23:22) > At least you’re self aware :0

unknown (23:23) > Yeah, they are annoying as hell

unknown (23:24) > But, also pretty good people, I guess

(23:25) > Pretty good or pretty dumb?

unknown (23:26) > SHUT IT

unknown (23:27) > Only I can make fun of them

unknown (23:27) > You. Don’t.

(23:28) > You’re right, I shouldn’t have said that

(23:29) > I’m sorry :(

unknown (23:30) > You like apologizing, huh

(23:29) > There’s a lot to apologize for tonight

unknown (23:30) > Still, you don’t have to say it every damn minute

(23:32) > You probably don’t ever apologize

unknown (23:33) > Fuck no

(23:35) > Right, of course

(23:36) > Well, you know what I need to do tomorrow

unknown (23:37) > Unfortunately

(23:38) > What about you?

unknown (23:39) > I’m covering a shift at my shit job at the ass crack of dawn

(23:40) > Unnecessary visual, but I digress

(23:40) > Uh, where do you work?

unknown (23:42) > No. I don’t even know your damn name

(23:43) > I told you?? It was in my first text

unknown (23:44) > Yeah, I ain’t scrolling

(23:48) > Well, it’s Izuku. Midoriya Izuku :)

unknown (23:49) > Great. I still ain’t giving you mine

(23:50) > ?? Is there anything I can know about you??

(23:50) > You know more about me, than I do about you

unknown (23:51) > You know I hate you

unknown (23:51) > That’s plenty

(23:52) > But, I have been staying up for you :(

unknown (23:53) > Because it’s your fault I can’t sleep

(23:54) > You aren’t feeling sleepy yet?

unknown (23:56) > ..Are you

(23:57) > I asked you first

unknown (23:58) > I asked you second

(23:59) > That

(23:59) > Look, it’s almost midnight

(24:00) > Oh, now, it’s actually midnight

unknown (00:01) > I have fucking eyes. I can see the time

(00:02) > And we BOTH have places to be tomorrow

(00:02) > So, let’s just sleep. Call a truce, please

unknown (00:03) > What about my petty retribution

(00:04) > PLEASE LET ME SLEEP

unknown (00:10) > FUCK

unknown (00:10) > FINE

unknown (00:11) > I STILL CAN’T SLEEP BUT WHATEVER

unknown (00:12) > HOPE YOU FUCKING OVERSLEEP TOMORROW

The rest of the night, Midoriya hears his phone go off, but he doesn’t bother to open the messages. Fortunately for him, the time staying awake quickly catches up to his body, the moment he shuts his eyes. And, in an instant, he falls asleep, heavy.

However, he’s jolted awake by the ringing of his phone, the tone alerting him of an incoming phone call. Banging his head on the headboard, Midoriya blindly grabs and answers his phone. “Uh, H-Hello?” He blurts quickly.

“Tch.” A low voice emits, “You owe me, Deku.”

Click. The phone call ends.

Confused, Midoriya hurriedly rubs his eyes open. Running his messy curls through his fingers, he lifts his bangs up, in order to correctly look at the time.

The time was 5:10. And, his 5:00 alarm had been off the entire time.

And, instead, that same unknown number from last night was his saving grace.

#star responds #MY FIRST TEXT FIC??? WOW #i kinda struggled with how i wanted to format the texts #but alas here it is #poor midoriya smh next time repeat the numbers back #never wake bakugou up from his 8PM to 6AM sleeps LMAO #i hope this was okay !!#bakudeku #tigridiae #my beloved #FICLET

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marvel-ousnesss · 3 years

Text

Unrequited (Valerio x reader)

Warnings: angst, use of drugs, alcohol, cursing, cheating, breakup, mentions of Valerio x Lucrecia

Word count: 2000-ish

A/N: Sorry this took so long, I hadn't been motivated to write anything until recently. As always, I love to hear comments, thoughts and feedback. Also, thank you so much for supporting my work, hope you enjoy 💜

Masterlist

Request

“Stop it, Valerio.” You abruptly close the book you're holding, eyeing the teacher as you place it on the desk. “They won't even let me get out of the house.”

He had been nagging you all week long about some party he was dying to go to, and you wanted to, really. The only problem was that, a few days ago, the two of you had dragged Guzman on a nightly adventure to the beach, which seemed right at the moment, since he had spent the whole summer sulking. Your dad practically had to drag you home by an ear, and, to say the least, your family didn’t wanna hear a beat about parties or your friends any time soon.

He scoffs, “seriously? Your parents are like the chillest people ever, they weren’t even that mad.”

Incredulous, you look at him up and down, betrayed by the amused grin that flicks on the corner of your lips. “Just checking, were you there on Thursday? One step out of line, and I'll be walking around with an ankle monitor.”

“Y/N, Valerio, is my class, perchance, interrupting your conversation? Should I take it elsewhere?”

With a quick apology and a glare at your boyfriend, cutting the conversation was cut short. However, it was naive to think he'd just settle for the answer you had given him.

“Whatever, Y/N," he grumbles. "I’m sure They'll let you if I,” he frames his face and smiles coyly, “am the one who asks.”

"Geez, why didn't I think of that!". Turning the page of your textbook, you deadpan. "Oh, right, dick-in-a-sock incident.”

Valerio lowers himself on his seat as his face embraces a new tone of crimson. After a second, he recovers. “Can't believe you brought up that teeny-tiny mistake of mine. Low, Y/L/N, even for you.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the bell rings.

When it stops, you continue, “Seriously, V, they've been all over me these last few days, it's a long shot.”

Both of you get out of the classroom and begin to make your way to the lockers. “Just tell them Polo’s gonna be there, don’t they love Polo?”

You sigh, checking the time on your phone. You only have fifteen minutes before your next class began, and, honestly, lack the energy to spend them trying to knock some sense into your mule of a boyfriend.

“Fine,” you settle. “I’ll call them in a minute. But, don’t get your hopes up.”

“Too late.” With a captivating smile, he leans in and pecks your cheek.

After you agreed to at least call your parents, Valerio's mood improved considerably the rest of the day. The rest of the classes went by uneventfully; before you knew it, you found yourself in the car, duffle in hand, on your way to the Montesinos'.

You arrive at their house and let yourself inside, leaving your stuff at the door and heading straight to the kitchen, looking for something to drink. When you turn around to face the stairs, Lu’s making her way down.

"So, how did you manage to dodge your sentence this time?"

"Haggled my freedom, sort of." You place a glass on the table and open the fridge to fetch a bottle of sparkling water.

She rolls her eyes and sighs, exasperated. "A call from my dad would’ve done it".

"Thanks, but it wasn’t that bad, really, " you assure, pouring some water into the glass then cutting a lemon in half. "Just have to take my brother to some birthday party next week and, in exchange, they gave me their blessing for Valerio's thing, and let me stay at yours after."

"God, Y/N, you complain about my brother 24/7 and, in the end, the two of you are just as stubborn."She grabs an apple and takes a bite. "You could've saved yourself the trouble completely."

"Oh, well."You take a seat by the kitchen bar. "Guess it takes one to know one."

"Anyway, what are you wearing tonight?"

You unlock your phone and browse through the gallery. When you find the picture, you stop and point a finger at her. "You're gonna hate me. " You show her the screen smiling from ear to ear.

"Oh, my fucking god, Y/N! How- I- is that the Valentino you were drooling over the other day?"

You just grin.

"You, bitch, how did you get your hands on that?"

"Aunt Millicent."

"Of course," she huffs.

"Turns out that there were a few perks of her going off to Milan." You shrug. "But that's not important right now, what are you gonna wear?"

With that. she drags you up the stairs and into her room. You spend the rest of the afternoon immersed in makeup experiments and debates about fashion until Valerio and Guzman shout your names to start pregaming.

You enter the party together and go straight to the most vacant area of the VIP zone. After grabbing the first round, you join the others at the table and sit down with Polo and Carla for a few drinks. The group remains wrapped in conversation until Ander walks up to his friends and drags them to the bar, probably to tell them about his most recent disagreement with Omar. Soon after, Lucrecia makes eye contact with Nadia, muttering something about her daring to come, and standing up with a huff. Knowing she's physically incapable of keeping herself out of trouble, Carla stands up with a roll of her eyes and follows her.

Valerio lets his arm fall around you and chuckles, taking a sip of his drink. "And then, there were two."

“Wanna get high?" You don't wait for him to answer verbally. Instead, you grab his hands and pull the two of you to stand up.

He laughs, grabbing a bottle of whatever was on the table beside yours.

The two of you sprinted to the nearest restroom in a fit of giggles and lock the door behind you. He puts the bottle on the counter and reaches his pockets, freezing as soon as he lifts his gaze. You dig into your clutch and shake a small bag in his face.

"My treat," you grin, resembling a kid in a candy store.

"Oh, my, little miss Y/LN!" he gasps in fake horror. "What happened to the ankle monitor you were telling me about."

"I won’t tell if you won’t."You smirk, carefully arranging the lines.

The party comes to an end a few minutes before sunrise. You reunite with Lucrecia and Guzman by the entrance of the club and the four of you get in the Montesinos' car. Your head rests on Valerio's chest and he traces lazy patterns on the skin of your arm and shoulder.

When you make it to the house, Lucrecia doesn't waste a minute to drag a tipsy Guzman upstairs, waving a quick goodbye on her way. You giggle, well aware of your friends' plans for the night. Then, you head to the kitchen for a snack.

"Confess it." Your boyfriend stares at you from the stairs, arms crossed over his chest. "The only reason you ever visit is that we have a better pantry."

"To be honest, I thought you already knew that." You grab a pack of chips and walk toward his bedroom, passing by him and kissing his nose softly.

You don't fall asleep that night, writhing in Valerio's arms and debating whether or not to go find something for the hangover that was already beginning to haunt you. When you open your eyes, the first rays of sunlight are already peeking through the window. You decide to get out of bed. You throw the blanket off you and turn, expecting to see your boyfriend, but only find a mess of his blankets instead. You check the time on your cell phone: 8:22 a.m.

Seeing no point in continuing your attempts to get some sleep, you put on the shirt that was laying on Valerio's desk chair and leave the room. As you're crossing the hall to the pool, you hear noises coming through Lucrecia's door. For a moment, you think it may be her and Guzman, but remember hearing him say that he had to go home at dawn to get to a swimming competition.

You try to ignore the noise and convince yourself it's none of your business; but, when you continue to walk away, your ears are invaded by a voice you knew quite well. "It couldn't, they can't-, they're...", a million thoughts invade you. You take a deep breath and to open the door.

There are no words to describe the feeling of your heart being ripped in the blink of an eye. Your legs threaten to collapse and blood rushes to your head, making you dizzy for a brief moment. Not only do you find your boyfriend in the bed, with an unreadable expression coating his face, but you find your best friend redhanded, looking right at you like a deer in headlights.

You don't even try to digest the scene; instead, you run out of the house, suddenly not caring about your current apparel. Part of you wanted to shout what you had seen, to ruin them, but they meant too most to you. You couldn't do it, no matter how much you wanted to get it off your chest.

Luckily, your house was empty. You went straight upstairs and locked yourself in your room for the rest of the morning. You did whatever you could to take your head off what you had seen, but nothing worked. In the end, you wrote it down, desperate to get it out somehow. You hadn't opened your diary since you were twelve, but it was relieving; a weight was lifted off your shoulders.

You spend the remaining of the day so deep in thought, that you didn't even notice your family arriving from the park. You drifted off to sleep after working on some homework, only to be woken up by our brother's voice.

"Y/N, your boyfriend's here!" Hearing the word sends a jab of pain through your body. However, you reply, "I'll be down in a second."

You put on a hoodie, some shoes and leave the fort that was your room. Your parents are focused on a movie, so you take the opportunity to step into the backyard with Valerio.

You face him, trying to appear emotionless, even if your bloodshot eyes give you away.The childish gleam in his face is nowhere to be found, his shoulders are more drooping than normal, and his eyes are almost as red as yours. You wonder if it's because of the crying or the cocaine.

“How long?”

“Before I went abroad.”

You attempt to walk back into the house, but he grabs and pulls your arm, begging you to stay and listen.

You sigh. “I won't say anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He stays silent for a few seconds, bringing himself to believe that your thoughts on him were actually that low. Then he mumbles, “I don’t care about that, I know it’s unorthodox, and that you’re probably gonna stop talking to us now, and-“

You didn’t have the energy to hear him ramble. “Look, yes, I’m really shaken, to say the least, it's the first time I’ve seen something like that.” You grimaced. “But, the point is you betrayed my trust, V! Completely!” Your voice shakes, you try to clear your throat but it comes out as a sob. “I- even if it hadn’t been her, you hurt me. You promised you’d never do it, but you did!

He takes your hands, and, even if you don’t resist, feels how tense that makes you. Hours prior, it would’ve been comforting. “And I’m sorry, really. I did it without thinking, Y/N/N, it won’t happen again.”

You pull your hands out of his. “Please, V, it’s been happening for more than a year, half of the time we’ve been dating.”

He stays quiet.

You quietly question, “do you still love me?”

This time, his bottom lip quivers and his voice cracks when he answers. “I care about you, a lot, you know that.”

That’s the last you bear to hear. You avert your eyes from him. “I forgive you. You can go now.”

“Y/N/N…” He moves closer to you, but you shake your head, stopping him.

“Please,” you croak.

#valerio montesinos imagines #Valerio imagines #Valerio imagine #Valerio x reader #Valerio Montesinos x reader #elite #elite imagines #netflix elite #las encimas #Valerio #Jorge López #x reader #valerio blurb #valerio oneshot

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the-evil-authoress · 3 years

Text

GX Month Day 7: “Ojama Delta Thunder!!”

That’s right! You know what today is! Today we celebrate The Chazz, the one and only Manjoume Thunder! Give sparky boi a hug!

WE STAN SUPPORTIVE WORKPLACES IN THIS HOUSE. Also, tiny bit of Egoshipping at the end.

This monster is just over nine pages. What am I doing with my life?

“So you wanted to talk Pro stuff?”

It takes Chazz’s brain an extra minute to process the words, still reeling from the bombshell Jaden decided to drop on them tonight. Then he latches onto the chance to think about literally anything other than the fact that Jaden literally fused himself with the monster that tried to kill him! How stupid do you get?! “Yes, please, I’m desperate.”

“Alright, no need to grovel.” Aster holds a hand out to preemptively stop any further begging that admittedly would have happened. “Like I said, I’d be glad for the company.”

It’s still surreal to watch Aster be both honest and vulnerable even though Chazz has seen it a few times now thanks to these group talks Jim started. Chazz has actually seen most of his friends break down in tears at this point. This year has been a fucking trip. “Okay, what’s the catch?”

“You’ll be my assistant.”

“Sorry, what?” Chazz must not have heard that right.

“You’ll have the chance to see how the Pros work up close and personal, and I get an extra pair of hands on deck.” Aster shrug. “Win-win.”

That is absolutely not a win-win! “I’m not gonna be your lackey!”

Aster levels him a look that would be insulting enough even without the younger boy’s obvious lack of fear in the face of Chazz’s anger. “So you don’t want my help then.”

Oh this son of a- Deep breath in. Hold it. Exhale. Don’t scream bloody murder at the literal one person related to the Pro Dueling business giving Chazz the time of day. “Fine. What exactly am I expected to do?”

“You’ll be managing Aster’s schedule,” the woman says as she escorts Chazz up the elevator because Aster couldn’t be bothered to meet Chazz himself. Esmerelda, she introduced herself as, an employee of the Senrigan Group assigned to look after Aster. Purple curls spill over her shoulder and she’d be pretty if her smile wasn’t so...unnerving. Sharp green eyes bore down at him and Chazz wants to fidget in this stupid, uncomfortable suit. “Take this.” Esmerelda holds out a simple flip phone and Chazz accepts it with minimal confusion. “It’s a company phone and will be your primary method of communication.”

This gig sounds simple enough at least.

At the top floor of the company-owned skyscraper, the doors open to reveal a spacious and luxurious pad. Reminds him of home, honestly, and Chazz has to swallow down the confusing mix of emotions that brings. “I’ll be living here? Not bad.”

“Certainly not.” Esmeralda chuckles and gives Chazz a smile that - in one word - he would describe as plastic. Leading him through the entryway-living room space, she opens a door to a room that looks like a typical office space.

“That’s a lot of phones.” He stares incredulously at the appliances that line the desks.

“Of course,” Esmerelda says and Chazz finds it more than a little unnerving that she doesn’t deem it necessary to address why there are so many phones in this room. “This is your desk.” She taps a spot on the table top with an immaculate nail. “Make sure you arrive before seven.” Chazz nods and the woman leads him back out of the room to a set of narrow double doors that open onto a balcony. “You will be sleeping there.” She points down at a comparatively tiny, rustic looking building squeezed between the back of the skyscraper and the road. Is that a warehouse?

It’s a warehouse. There’s a couch and table on the landing near the door and a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. The power is out and a cloud of dust rises from the couch when Chazz sets his briefcase on the cushions. Sadly, this isn’t much worse than the Slifer Dorms. He’ll make it work.

“You put him where?” Aster looks up over his cup of chamomile tea, something Sartorius recommended after noticing his trouble sleeping and, like most of Sartorius’ suggestions, works fairly well. Setting the cup down, he presses his finger tips to his temple and doesn’t wait for an answer. “Esmerelda, you are evil.”

“With all due respect, sir, this boy is a Manjoume.” Esmerelda frowns, posture stiff where she sits on the other end of the couch and brows furrowed in an expression that speaks exactly how she feels about this situation. “The Manjoume Group is our biggest rival. He could be here to steal company secrets.”

“I highly doubt that,” Aster mumbles and picks his tea up again.

“To my knowledge, Chazz has an estranged relationship with his family,” Sartorius says from the armchair across the table, pencil tapping lightly against the clipboard on his lap. That paper is either Aster’s schedule or a crossword; Aster doesn’t care enough to squint. “Besides, he is a personal friend.”

Aster scoffs. “Chazz and I are not friends.”

“Friendly acquaintances then.”

“Acquaintances,” Aster corrects. “We’re just acquaintances.”

“Of course,” Sartorius agrees in that voice that implies he knows something he isn’t willing to share yet. Aster narrows his eyes at him over the cup but doesn’t press the issue. He’ll find out soon enough; Sartorius isn't that good at keeping secrets.

“Exactly,” Esmerelda presses. “Why are you sticking your neck out for him?”

Sighing, Aster sets his cup down to massage his temple once more. He knows Esmerelda means well, but she’s been watching him like a hawk even since he got back from the other dimension and Aster misses that small bit of freedom. “I don’t know. Maybe because I felt bad for him? Maybe because I wanted someone to talk about-” He lets the sentence hang and shelves the bulk of his bitterness and frustration before continuing; he doesn’t need to take it out on them. “-who actually understands.”

Esmerelda presses her lips. Sartorius stares at him with those damnably soulful eyes. Even if he could have predicted that whole fiasco, he certainly wouldn’t have been able to stop it. Aster doubts nothing short of the sun imploding could have stopped Jaden from chasing Jesse across dimensions; Aster had just been the idiot who got too close.

“It’s late.” Aster exhales wearily. “You should go home.”

Nodding, Esmerelda stands and bids him a good night. Only after the elevator has closed behind her does Aster allow himself to slump against the couch. Sartorius sets the clipboard on the table - it’s a crossword - and holds out his hand. “Shall we retire?”

“Yeah.”

It’s easy to be vulnerable around Sartorius, probably because of how long they’ve known each other, and Sartorius is still the only person Aster can completely relax around. He lets Sartorius pull him up off the couch and they head down the hallway to the bedrooms at the back of the suite.

“I’m in the next room if you need me,” Sartorius promises with his usual nightly greeting, and Aster has the distinct feeling he’ll be taking him up on that later. Today’s been stressful.

Chazz arrives at the office room at 6:55 sharp and freezes at the sight of the person already sitting there. “Good morning, Chazz,” Sartorius greets like they’re old buddies or something and not the guy who brainwashed him less than a year ago. “I trust Esmerelda already briefed you on the daily necessities.”

“No?” Chazz croaks. He’s going to be working with Sartorius? What happened to Esmerelda?

Sartorius’ expression falls into one of surprise and concern, but one of the multiple phones rings before he can respond and his attention immediately swerves. “Good morning, this is Sartorius speaking,” the man says with an uncanny level of grace and authority. Whatever is said on the other end of the line prompts him to pull up some kind of spreadsheet on the computer in front of him. Another phone rings as the conversation continues and Sartorius wordlessly directs Chazz to answer it with his hand.

“This is Weekly Duelist,” a voice chirps in his ear, a bit loud and on the edge of demanding. “Next week, could we have Aster...”

A third phone rings. Sartorius pushes a pen and paper at Chazz as he sets the first phone down and reaches for the next. “Write it down.” He’s on the next call before Chazz can ask for elaboration.

And so the morning goes. Chazz scribbles down the names of different dueling events and talk shows and gods-know-what-else that want Aster’s attention while Sartorius alternates between his own conversations and calling back the interested parties on Chazz’s list to fit them onto the spreadsheet.

Esmerelda shows up during a lull in phone calls as Sartorius walks Chazz through using the digital schedule, and Chazz’s brain is too fried from the last 2 hours of his life - has it only been 2 hours?? - to even care about the guy being in his personal space. “The first few hours of the morning are always the busiest. If you can’t confirm at the time of the call, write down the request and call back later. You must also always consider location and travel time- Oh.” Sartorius looks up abruptly. “Excuse us a moment.”

Standing, Sartorius pulls Esmerelda back out the room with him, and Chazz takes the opportunity to just sit and do nothing. A few names remain on the callback list. Should he get started on that or wait for Sartorius to return?

“You sent him in here with no instruction.” The conversation floats in from beyond the door.

“I told him to arrive before seven.”

“Before seven does not imply ‘in time to receive instruction’, Esmeralda. If you weren’t going to show him anything last night, he should have been here at least half an hour before hand.”

So that woman set him up for failure? Whatever, nothing Chazz isn’t used to. Reaching for the phone, he calls back the next event on his list. He’s got two more events scheduled before Sartorius and Esmerelda return and sits back in the chair smugly as he ends the call. Sartorius’ eyebrows rise as he glances over the schedule on his own screen.

“Well done! I’m glad to see you taking initiative.” The praise sends an odd thrill through Chazz like a half forgotten memory and he decides not to dwell on it. Sartorius turns back to Esmerelda with an almost smug grin. “And you worried.”

The woman presses her red lips together with a dismissive hum; Chazz prefers it to the plastic smile.

A tea and snack break later, Chazz finds himself fetching Aster’s clothing and duel disk - why the hell does someone need that many of the exact same thing?! - for a photo shoot, then hauling books from a truck to the table of a signing event - he didn’t know Aster wrote a book about duel philosophy. Admittedly, he’s curious - all while occasionally answering phone calls and penning new events onto his paper copy of the schedule.

The sun has set by the time he finds himself slumping back in his desk chair, Aster’s schedule neat and tidy on the spreadsheet before him. The phones have finally gone silent.

“Good work today.” Sartorius enters with a tray of soup and breadsticks and sets it on the desk adjacent to Chazz.

Chazz blinks at it. “You cook?”

Sartorius smiles. “Yes. Mizuchi and I lived alone for most of our lives, so we had to learn how to take care of ourselves.”

“Oh.” Chazz doesn’t know what to say to that so he doesn’t say anything as he reaches for the soup and spoons some of it into his mouth. It’s surprisingly good, mild, not too salty like most of the canned stuff.

“There’s an extra room up here for you,” Sartorius says and Chazz looks up sharply.

“I don’t have to stay in the warehouse?”

“Goodness, no.” Shaking his head, Sartorius presses his lips and continues at length, “I suppose Esmerelda wanted to test your resolve.” Chazz snorts. “I assure you, Aster and I did not approve.”

Didn’t stop them from letting him sleep there last night. Chazz can’t even muster the energy to glare at the man, only managing what must be a fish eyed stare. He dips the breadstick in the soup before taking a bit; oo, now that’s a good combination of flavors.

“How was your first day?” It’s still unnerving how calm and even Sartorius speaks even without the malicious undertones from the Light of Destruction.

“Exhausting,” Chazz answers without hesitation.

Sartorius chuckles. “I’ve put on some tea if you’d like to join us.”

Chazz considers this and shakes his head. “Nah, I’m gonna go get my stuff.” Still too weird, and honestly he wants nothing more than to crash in a real bed and stop existing for a few hours.

Nodding, Sartorius stands. “The room is at the far end of the hall. Mine is the second on the left if you need anything.”

Chazz really shouldn’t be surprised these two live together.

The following week is more of the same. Chazz follows Aster to all manner of events from meet-and-greets to fancy parties, always doing the heavy lifting and always answering the phone. During the precious few moments he has to breathe, Sartorius talks his ear off. The man is a surprisingly witty conversation partner and the complete opposite of Chazz’s sparse memories from the Society of Light.

“Of course I’m different.” Sartorius laughs good naturedly as Chazz curses his slip of the tongue. “That wasn’t really me, Chazz.”

No, Chazz supposes it wasn’t.

“He’s so good with people,” he mumbles, leaning on the balcony railing where they watch Aster mingle in the party below.

“Of course.” Sartorius sounds fond. “That’s what it takes to succeed. I believe you can learn a lot from watching him.”

Yeah, if Chazz can manage to find the time between everything else.

“You want me to what?”

“Organize the cards in here,” Aster repeats and Chazz baulks at the sheer number of stacks that line the shelves. “The power’s back on so that won’t be a problem. No specific deadline, just work on it when you have spare time.”

“What spare time?!”

Aster only raises his eyebrows with that unimpressed expression he’s so fond of giving, and Chazz clenches his teeth.

“Can I least get some gloves and a mask and a duster?” It’s filthy in here and Chazz doesn’t fancy breathing in whatever dust cloud he’s found to kick up.

“There should be cleaning supplies in the closet.” Aster waves a hand vaguely before turning to take his leave. “Good luck.”

A number of people make house calls with Aster; Chazz doesn’t pay much attention to them because he’s usually neck deep in phone calls and keeping Aster’s schedule straight - he does not need another double booking fiasco, thank god Sartorius had the charm to sort it out peacefully. One guy in particular, however, Chazz does get used to seeing; Mike something-or-other, a TV producer hell bent on getting Aster in on his comedy acts. Aster throws him out more than once.

“Why don’t you just cut ties with him?” Chazz asks after another such altercation. “You clearly don’t like him.”

“He’s good at what he does.” Aster frowns, annoyed if not outright angered. So are Slade and Jagger and that didn’t stop Chazz from telling them to fly a kite. Picking up his cup, Aster winces as his hand shakes and quickly sets the cup down before the tea can spill. Chazz zeros in on the movement.

“Hand,” he says, scooting over to sit by Aster on the couch without a second thought.

“What?”

Chazz doesn’t wait as he takes Aster’s hand and smooths out the joints between his own fingers before pressing gently and rubbing circles with his thumbs.

“You know massage??”

“Yeah.” Chazz still doesn’t get why everyone makes a big deal of it. This is something he’s always been able to do; used to find it weird that other people couldn’t because it felt so easy to him. A natural skill or whatever. “Jesus fuck,” the English expletive slips past his lips as he feels the knots and strained muscles in Aster’s hand. “I’m cancelling meet-and-greets and signing events for a while.”

“Excuse me?”

“So your hand can heal,” Chazz cuts Aster off before the other can work himself into righteous indignation. “You can’t duel without your draw hand. Two weeks of minimal activity and you should be fine. But we should tape this. Do you have a first aid-”

A white kit with a red cross hovers in the peripheral of Chazz’s vision. He stares dumbly up at Sartorius as Aster huffs with amusement. Cautiously, Chazz takes it. “Can you still see the future or something?”

“Predict,” Sartorius corrects as he takes his usual seat in the arm chair. “And not all predictions are accurate.”

“Riiiight.” Just gonna ignore that piece of information for now then. Chazz pulls the ace wrap out of the kit and turns back to Aster’s hand. “Tell me if it’s too tight.”

Maybe he’s imagining it, but there might be a sliver more respect in Aster’s eyes when Chazz finishes wrapping his hand and a tiny, genuine smile on his face.

This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening!

Aster’s going to lose his entire career just because one lousy card went missing?!

Chazz paces back and forth across the warehouse floor, gnawing on his fingernails. The cards have all been organized - monster, trap, spell, then by type, archetype, and alphabetical. Chazz could point exactly to which box a single card is in, but the one card apparently more important that Aster’s fucking career disappears from right under his nose!

They even know who took it! They have photos from the security camera! But they can’t prove shit because the bastard was smart enough to keep his face covered and away from the camera! If they can’t prove it, they can’t get the card back! And then Aster-

“Boss, breathe!” Ojama Yellow squeals. “I think you're having an angry attack!”

“Anxiety attack!” Chazz screams, suddenly aware of just how rapid and shallow his breath has gotten. Geez, he sounds like Jaden after-

JADEN!

Chazz dives for his school-issued PDA, yanks up the contacts, and rapidly taps his foot against the floor as he waits for the other end of the line to pick up. He dials twice before getting an answer.

“What?”

“Jaden, I need your help!”

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” The other boy sounds groggy and disheveled.

No, Chazz has absolutely no idea what time it is in Japan, he is on the side of the globe and that’s not important right now! “Listen! I need you and your freaky powers for help with something!”

Silence. The line clicks dead.

“DID YOU JUST HANG UP ON ME?” Chazz screams into the empty warehouse. It takes three more tries to get Jaden back on the line.

“And why should I help you?”

“SERIOUSLY? Wait.” Something about Jaden’s voice sounds off. The cadence? “Yubel? This is Yubel isn’t it? Put Jaden on the line! I don’t want you!”

“Jaden is asleep as I was before you so rudely interrupted me and will be returning to now,” Yubel snips.

“WAIT!” Chazz screeches before she can hang up again. He doesn’t need to waste any more time on callbacks. “Never mind! I just need help! Aster needs help!”

The silence on the other end stretches long enough that Chazz fears the monster already hung up. “I’m listening.”

Chazz doesn’t even question it when Jaden tumbles out of the shadows onto the warehouse floor, grumbling about fudged landings and never being at locations before, just snaps at him to hide the wings and drags him up to Aster’s apartment. “I brought help!” he announces as they barge in.

Aster’s head snaps up and Chazz watches the scathing remark die on his tongue as his eyes fall on Jaden. “Oh. That’s an idea.”

“Okay, what the hell is going on?” Jaden walks fearlessly up to the trio. “Cuz I got the basics from Yubel, but details would be nice.”

“Yubel?” Esmerelda asks with a weary glance between Jaden and Chazz.

Jaden blanks at her then turns away dismissively. “Not important.”

Aster tosses the security photos onto the table between them. “This is the guy who took the card. Mike, a TV producer who’s been trying to get me to go along with his comedy gimmick for weeks now. We know it’s him but these photos won’t hold up in court.”

Picking the photos up, Jaden holds his chin thoughtfully. “So you just need me to get this card back?”

“And maybe some proof that this guy stole it,” Chazz adds quickly, trying not to cringe as Aster’s eyes flicker over to him, but the pro silently nods his agreement.

“Alright. I’ll see what I can do.” Setting the photos back on the table, Jaden glances at the elevator, makes a face, and walks straight for the balcony. They all watch in confused silence until Jaden leaps off the balcony railing.

Esmerelda screams. “Is he insane?!”

Even Chazz charges toward the balcony, leaning over the edge in terror, only to find Jaden standing calmly on the sidewalk below like he didn’t just jump off the top floor of a fucking skyscraper!

“How?!” Esmerelda gapes, gripping the railing with white knuckles.

“I’m not even gonna question it.” Aster waves a hand as he returns indoors. Sartorius chuckles quietly, the only person who hadn’t made a mad dash after the reckless idiot.

Chazz sinks to the balcony floor, waiting for his heart to finally get the memo that they don’t need to be freaking out anymore. Gods above help them all...

Jaden gets the card back and manages to publicly humiliate Mike in the process. Win-win.

At the end of Chazz’s ‘employment’, Aster challenges him to an official PR duel. It’s the first time Chazz has gotten to seriously break out his deck in a while and he fears he’ll be rusty, but the plays come to him easier than they ever had. Oh, he gets it now. When he organized all the cards in the warehouse, he read each one’s effect; he thought about how to play them and combo them with each other. Aster’s deck is easy to read and Chazz pulls off a spectacular win.

Amidst the cheers, Aster holds out his hand. “Nice work. Guess you did learn a thing or two.”

Riding the adrenaline high, Chazz pulls him straight into a hug. Aster grunts, going rigid before awkwardly patting his back.

“Maybe not in front of the cameras.”

Chazz immediately backpedals. “Right! Sorry!” There’s an odd expression in Aster’s eyes as they shake hands properly this time.

“Sartorius. I have another problem.”

Sartorius sniggers as Aster predictably sinks into the seat next to him, flipping over the cards in his game of solitaire. “Oh, I don’t think this one is a problem,” he says with confidence, this morning’s card reading still fresh in his mind. “You should ask him out.”

It takes a second. “SARTORIUS!” Aster pushes away from the table, looking positively scandalized. “I don’t have time for a social life let alone a romantic one!”

Humming, Sartorius places a card on its designated stack. “I’m sure you can make the time. After all, you’ve been making time to visit Duel Academy quite frequently of late.”

“For my mental health!” Aster goes on the defensive, but there’s no denying the hint of flush on his cheeks. “And that's not the point! I don’t care if you read it in cards, I’m not just randomly asking him out!”

Sadly, Sartorius knows half of Aster’s reluctance to the idea is because the media would have a field day with any celebrity’s love life, let alone one with...less conventional preferences. That will not, however, prevent Sartorius from teasing his best friend. “How would you prefer to ask him out then?”

With a frustrated whine, Aster glares at Sartorius. “Not at all.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Shut up.”

#gxmonth2021 #chazz princeton #manjoume jun #aster phoenix #sartorius kumar #jaden yuki #egoshipping #ygo gx #yugioh gx #yu gi oh gx #long post

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whatdoesshedotothem · 2 years

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Thursday 7 June 1832

8 40

1 ¼

fine morning F60° at 8 ¾ - ½ hour in Mrs. Nocliffes’ room – much better but not well enough to get up to breakfast – breakfast at 10 ¾ with CN- no times newspaper - Letter 3 pages and ends and 1st page crossed from M- Lawton - shocked at poor George’s death - their plans changed - not going to Harrogate till next week - hopes to meet me in York at her brother’s - not going to London next month and not going to the Acker’s at all, at least no time now fixed - going to take Elizabeth Lawton to Miss [Conale]’s school in London for 2 years - left a bill of 3/3 behind me for letters for which bill M- has paid – came to my room between 12 and 1 – wrote 3pp. and ends to IN- thanks for her share and Mrs. James Daltons’ of my last letter from Croft – what with 7 days’ quarantine and cholera at Ghent, CN- and Mrs. Milne began to be in a fright about Holland – I myself give in – would not go in the face of all that, and come round to prefer Guernsey and Jersey – shall make a point of staying to see her here on the 14th – went downstairs to Mrs. N- and CN- about 2 and had just, now talking, now writing, wrote 2 ¼ pp. to Mrs. Duffin (more especial thanks for their kind joint letter received on Saturday, and regrets at not being able to go to them – mention of Mrs. N-‘s have a sad sick day of it yesterday but being much better today – all got quite as well over the fatal accident as could be expected – chitchat) when between 3 and 4 colonel and Mrs. Cholmley of Howsham, and their 2 oldest children girl and boy, called and sat about an hour – very civil and agreeable Mrs. C- hoped if I was here long enough, and I would drive over and call an hour – dinner at 4 ¾ - from 6 ¾ to 8 CN- and I walked in the garden – joked about her taking a 3 months tour with me in Germany by Paris, Treves, Cassel, Hamburg, Berlin, Dresden, Vienna, Munich, Ulm, Somers of the Danube, Baden, Heidelberg and Manheim home – dressed – tea at 8 ¾ - wrote the latter ½ p. 3 and ends and finished my letter to ‘Mrs. Duffin, Micklegate York’ and gave this and my letter to ‘Miss Norcliffe at the revered James Daltons’ Croft Rectory Darlington Durham’ to go to York by John Coates tomorrow – then wrote 1 1/2p. to M- Mrs. N- went at 10 ½ or before – CN, and I sat up till came to our rooms at 12 – wrote the above of today – finish day till after 1 then rain which continued the greater part of the afternoon – fair in the evening – F61 ½° at 12 ¼ tonight -

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incorrectbandofbrothersquotes · 3 years

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You Better, You Better, You Bet - Chapter 9

As Long as You’re Mine

Ron Speirs x Juliet Fletcher

Summary: Juliet Fletcher reaches a breaking point in her life. When she is at her absolute lowest, she meets Ron Speirs, and something happens between them that neither of them will ever forget.

Word Count: 4.1K

Tag List: @vintagelavenderskies @how-are-those-nuts-sarge @iilovemusic12us @hesbuckcompton-baby @tvserie-s-world @whovian45810 @50svibes @cagzzz107 @evelynshelby @piano-isnt-my-forte If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy this update!

Warning(s): None :)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

AO3 link

Chapter 9 let’s go!!!

“Okay, how does this sound?” Juliet asked Ron, who sat on her bed as she put together her story of the trial. He was careful not to recline, lest he disturb her pages of notes carefully organized atop the quilt. “Meredith Fisher confessed to the murder of six-year-old Peggy Lee in front of the courtroom before her trial began. Mrs. Fisher was arrested and charged with the murder in September of last year. Her lawyer, Mr. Harvey Cooper, originally planned to plead not guilty, but in a shocking turn of events, Mrs. Fisher herself admitted to the jury she killed Peggy Lee before even opening arguments could be made.”

“I’d read that,” Ron replied.

Juliet huffed and looked around her room at the Blue Boar. Papers littered the floor, pens were nowhere to be found, and her typewriter was mocking her. Now that the trial was finished - with such a dramatic twist - she was hard at work, trying to ensure she reported it just right. An impossible task, it felt like.

“Okay, but would you read it because I’m your girlfriend or because of the writing?” she asked.

“The writing,” he told her. “It’s simple, it explains everything.”

“It feels a bit long for the lead,” she said. “Perhaps I should put the bit about her arrest in the nut graph.”

“That does feel more like background information,” he agreed.

She pulled a pencil from behind her ear, scratched out the sentence, and began again. “So, it’d go like this - Meredith Fisher confessed to the murder of six-year-old Peggy Lee in front of the courtroom before her trial began. Her lawyer - I’m gonna take out his name and have that later - so, Her lawyer originally planned to plead not guilty, but in a shocking turn of events, Mrs. Fisher admitted to the jury she killed Peggy Lee before even opening arguments could be made. Then I’ll go into when she was arrested, the details of the murder, then the evidence the prosecution had prepared, and finish with her sentencing date. How’s that?”

“I think it’s perfect,” he said.

She chewed her lip. “Should I use the word shocking? I don’t want to tell the readers how to feel.”

“When she confessed, what was the first thing you heard?” he asked.

“Gasps,” she answered.

“There’s your shock,” he said.

Juliet had to concede that point. Ron almost didn’t believe her when she told him the story. The judge had barely gotten the words “How do you plead?” out before Meredith let out a wail like wounded animal and confessed to the whole gruesome thing. She sobbed that she was sorry, but she knew she had to be punished. She wasn’t safe. And truthfully, Juliet felt bad for her. It was truly one of the most pitiful things she’d ever witnessed.

But the one thing Juliet could never forget, the image that would stick with her for all her days, was the look on Peggy Lee’s parents’ faces. The Lees watched, dignified, proud, yet misty eyed as the person who killed their daughter begged for mercy. Their grief was profoundly felt, despite their stately manner. They said nothing. They did nothing. And they spoke to no one upon their exit from the courtroom.

“Jules?”

Ron’s voice brought her back to the present, his hand on her shoulder making her turn to look at him.

“Sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “Just...it’s so unfair. If anyone had a right to be screaming and crying it was the parents.”

“They must be very English,” he said.

“Oh, they were proper English,” she agreed. “Stiff upper lips and all. The mother did at one point hide her face in the father’s arm, but other than that, they were stoic.”

“Thinking about including that in your story?” he wondered.

“God, no,” she replied. “I’ll mention that they were there and offered no comments, but this isn’t that kind of article.”

“Just the facts, huh?”

“As usual.”

“Juliet.”

“Yeah?”

“The article’s gonna be great,” he said.

“How can you be so sure?” she asked.

“Because you care this much,” he said. He accentuated the point with a kiss to the top of her head. “I’ve got a staff meeting. Are you alright here?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for being so patient with me.”

He kissed her again. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“See you later, Ron,” she returned.

With that, he left. Juliet started trying to condense the lead again, still feeling like it was too long. There had to be a better summary. But it was a lot to try and fit into one sentence, so she resigned herself to making it more than one line. She hadn’t chosen a headline yet, either, but she usually liked to write the article first. That way she could pick out the singular most newsworthy part and headline with that. As she organized further, the phone rang.

“Hello?” she answered.

“Juliet, it’s Lottie.”

“Hey, Lottie, how are you?” Juliet asked.

“Fine, same as usual,” Lottie returned. “Otis just rang and told me about the trial. I hope you’re hard at work.”

“Absolutely,” Juliet assured her. “I’ve nearly got the lead down. I’ve just got to get the facts organized. I’m thinking of doing a follow up story about the shortcomings of Operation Pied Piper, since Cooper’s little tidbit did prove to be true.”

Sad as it was, Harvey Cooper was right. There was no process for vetting the families agreeing to take the children. The committee had been in such a hurry to evacuate, they had not even considered that some children could end up in more danger than they were at home in the cities. Juliet found the whole thing fascinating, and it could open up a conversation about war time protocol - be meticulous or swift?

“I think that’ll be fine,” Lottie said. “But have you gotten any war news? I know I wasn’t enthusiastic about it initially, but you’re the only reporter I’ve got with the Airborne.”

Juliet bit her lip. While the prospect of war news had originally driven her to accept the Peggy Lee story, she found herself conflicted about it now. Her relationship with Ron threw a wrench in it.

“I think it’s a conflict of interest for me to cover the Airborne,” she said.

She could practically hear Lottie’s eyes roll. “Oh, come on, Juliet, don’t be absurd.”

“It isn’t right, Lottie!” Juliet insisted. “I’m in an intimate relationship with one of the soldiers, there’s no freeing me from bias there.”

“You could use it to your advantage,” Lottie said. “Obviously, you can’t use him as a source, but couldn’t he lead you to the right person?”

“I can’t ask that of him,” Juliet said. “I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.”

“What wrong idea?”

It was something Juliet had already put a lot of thought into. As badly as she wanted to cover the war - and it did seem like things were ramping up even more in Aldbourne - she was hesitant. She had actually considered asking Ron for a source and then immediately hated herself for it. She would not use her relationship to get ahead in her job. She couldn’t. It just wasn’t right, simple as that.

“That I’m using him,” Juliet explained. “If I ask him to get me a source, he might worry that it’s the reason I entered the relationship, and that’s not the case.”

Lottie sighed. “So, you just want to give up on covering the war?”

“I didn’t say that,” Juliet returned. “I’d be happy to cover something else once I get back to London, but-”

“Forget it,” Lottie cut across her. “Just focus on the trial for now and then Pied Piper, if that’s what you want.”

“Lottie -”

“Good afternoon, Juliet,” Lottie said harshly, hanging up before Juliet could protest any further.

She sighed, hanging up as well, and sitting back in her chair. She had a feeling the conversation wasn’t quite over, but she’d hear more about it on her next trip home. For now, she wanted to focus on what happened at the trial. The sentencing would be in another few weeks, so she needed to get this done.

***

Ron was right of course. The article was published and the London Pursuit sold the most copies it had in years. It surprised Juliet a little, but perhaps people were tired of war news and what better than a dramatic murder trial for a change of pace? It was morbid, sure, but Juliet knew she’d handled it as well as she could.

Lottie called, absolutely elated by the circulation numbers. And honestly, Juliet was thrilled too. She found Ron later that day and leapt into his arms as a display of her unmitigated excitement. She’d done it, and done it well! It was cause for celebration. So they went to London for the weekend - staying with Nancy of course, since she would have had a fit at missing an opportunity to see Ron - and they went to a nice dinner, champagne and everything. Juliet could hardly believe her luck. Everything was going so perfectly.

And that night, as they lay together in the afterglow, she looked at his face and knew she loved him. The kind of love she read about in books and poetry. The kind that crooners sang about on the radio. She’d found it. It was scary enough to admit to herself, but she determined that she would - one day soon if the opportunity presented itself - admit it to him.

He caught her gazing at him.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she replied. “I’m just happy you’re mine.”

***

The sentencing hearing was not as interesting as the trial itself, but Juliet was relieved to report that Meredith Fisher was going to prison for life. There would be no chance for parole, either. So justice was served.

However, Juliet couldn’t help but notice the look on Mr. Lee’s face. Mrs. Lee had not come for the sentencing, so it was just father. When the judge announced Meredith’s fate, Mr. Lee only closed his eyes and let out a long breath. He nodded, put a hand over his heart, and inhaled again. A single tear rolled down his cheek. It made Juliet look away so that he could have that moment for himself. To take in whatever feelings came to him. To remember Peggy and take some solace in that her killer was going away.

“I thought I’d be happier,” Juliet told Ron as they prepared for bed that night back at the Blue Boar. “But it still just feels...rotten.”

“Nothing can bring the girl back,” he said matter-of-factly.

“I know,” she replied. “But I just....I suppose you’re right. What else could anyone have hoped for in this situation?”

“Right,” he agreed.

“I’m also grateful we didn’t have to hear that lawyer make that ridiculous argument in a courtroom,” she said. “I don’t think I could bear the looks on the parents’ faces at that.”

“That would have been awful,” he said.

“Even so, it feels rather anticlimactic,” she said. “Especially for the prosecution who spent months putting everything together.”

“They still got the result they wanted,” he pointed out. “So what does it matter?

She shrugged at that. She still felt unsatisfied, as if there was something more to be done. Even though logically, she knew there wasn’t. She would write an update for the paper, and that would really be the end of it. That was when it hit her. What was really upsetting her was that now that this was over, there was no more reason for her to be in Aldbourne. Especially now that she didn’t want to cover the Airborne. It meant that she would go home to London, in turn reducing her time with Ron significantly. And that was a dreadful thought.

***

“What do you mean you aren’t coming back to London?” Lottie cried through the phone. “What about the Pied Piper story?”

“I reckon it can wait,” Juliet said, entirely unconvincing, but she hoped Lottie was buying it. Her reasons for remaining in Aldbourne had nothing to do with her job and everything to do with the man she was in love with. “And maybe with some time, I can find my own sources on war news.”

Lottie remained silent for several minutes. “So, you’ve just changed your mind all of a sudden about covering the Airborne?”

“Not completely,” Juliet lied. “I...I’m just not sure I’m quite finished here. And what if there’s something else about the Peggy Lee story that comes up? I could -”

“Give it a rest, Juliet,” Lottie groaned. “I know you want to stay for your boyfriend.”

“That’s not -”

Lottie cut across her protests. “Please do not insult my intelligence by suggesting otherwise. You want to be near him.”

“You don’t sound quite as sympathetic as I hoped,” Juliet said, giving in.

“You have a life in London, Juliet!” Lottie reminded her harshly. “You have a job to do, your mother is here, and you want to put everything on hold for some man?”

“He’s not just some man!” Juliet argued indignantly. “He’s...different from any man I’ve ever known. And what we have means more to me than anything I’ve ever known.”

She glanced down at the necklace that sparkled against her skin. A constant reminder of how much she meant to him as well.

“Oh, come off of your cloud, will you?” Lottie snapped.

“Lottie,” Juliet said seriously. “The whole time I was with Arthur, did you ever know me to put him before work? Or my family?”

“No, so why is this Ron fellow -”

“Because it is different,” Juliet emphasized. “This is it, Lottie. He’s the one.”

That seemed to stump her. “Has he...proposed?”

“No, he hasn’t,” Juliet said. “I don’t even care if he does.”

Lottie scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous, you can’t just carry on living in sin.”

Juliet rolled her eyes. “Could you please pay attention to what's important here? There’s a man in my life who I genuinely see a happy future with and I just...I want to focus on that. Is that so wrong?”

“I suppose not,” Lottie sighed, and Juliet inwardly celebrated a moment of victory. “But I can’t pay you if you aren’t working. At least be making the proper phone calls to follow this Pied Piper story. Conduct interviews of other families there who have taken in children from the cities. Part of the story is there if you know where to look.”

“No problem,” Juliet said. “You’ll be glad to know I’ve already begun. I’ve got an interview with the Barnes family next week, who are housing a little girl. I’ll ask them about how the process went for them.”

“Perfect,” Lottie said. She paused for a beat. “And, Juliet?”

“Yes?”

“I really am happy for you.”

Juliet smiled softly. “Thank you, Lottie.”

***

Spring fully thawed the winter out by the time April arrived. Aldbourne was rather charming in bloom. But Juliet wasn’t sure if it was the flowers or that she was in love. She found herself humming a lot more than she used to - these days she didn’t even need food to start a merry tune in the back of her throat. She had more energy, despite spending rather long nights in Ron’s arms. And she found her enthusiasm for work - even though her priority shifted - a great deal easier to come by as well.

The interview with the Barnes family went splendidly. They were also housing a couple of lieutenants from the Airborne, though they were not in Ron’s company. Juliet only exchanged brief greetings with them, as they were heading to work just as she was entering the house. She nearly melted at the connection they had formed with the girl - Ann - which was clear in their goodbyes to her for the day. She seemed particularly close to the tall redhead.

Juliet told Ron about it that evening over drinks.

“Yeah, that’s Winters and Welsh,” he told her. “Good officers.”

“Do they spend much time here?” she wondered, indicating the Blue Boar.

“Welsh does, but Winters doesn’t drink,” he said. “He spends most nights there with the family.”

“I can tell,” she said. “I mean, it was seriously precious. She hugged his knees and he patted her on the head and I think I fell a little bit in love with him for a moment.”

He scoffed. “Good luck, I think he has a girlfriend.”

“Has he?” she questioned.

“Yeah, the nurse,” he said. “She works for the regiment.”

“You lot have your own nurse?”

“She’s got some connection to Colonel Sink,” he said with a shrug. “I’ve never actually met her.”

“And what about the other chap?” she asked. “Welsh?”

“He’s engaged,” he told her. “Her name’s Kitty.”

“You know that but not the name of the nurse?” she questioned.

“I only know because Harry never shuts up about her,” he said. “The whole regiment knows at this point. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Krauts knew.”

She giggled. “I think that’s sweet.”

“It’s obnoxious.”

“You mean, you don’t brag about me to the whole regiment?” she teased. “Romance is dead.”

“Sorry for your loss,” he retorted as he took a swig of his drink.

“Not as sorry as I am,” she returned. “Now I’ll have to spend God knows how many hours in mourning.”

“At least you look good in black,” he said.

“My saving grace,” she agreed with a smile. She paused for a beat. “Seriously, you don’t talk about me at all?”

“I do if you come up,” he told her.

“And what do you say?” she wondered.

“Whatever’s relevant,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“I prefer not to broadcast my personal life,” he said. “All they need to know is that you’re mine.”

She smiled as she leaned over to kiss his cheek. “That’s true.”

***

April was drawing to a close. Juliet stood in her room, preparing to go and interview another Aldbourne family about their process in fostering a child from London. These interviews were restoring the bit of faith she’d lost in covering Peggy’s story because most of the families were very kind, and doted on the children. They were proud of doing what they could to ensure the future of England. And the children were mostly happy. What happened to Peggy was a tragedy and an outlier.

She was just getting ready to leave when Ron entered her room. A grim shadow of doubt on his features made her smile disappear as fast as it had come. Something was wrong. He definitely had bad news.

“We’re moving out,” he told her.

She had expected this at some point, but she still blinked in surprise. Her shoulders drooped as the reality of it percolated through her.

“Oh,” she said. “Well...when?”

He hesitated. “This is off the record -”

She scowled at him, momentarily offended that he felt the need to clarify.

“Everything between us is protected, Ron,” she said sharply. “You and I are always off the record unless stated otherwise.”

“Sorry,” he said quickly, picking up on her tone. “I know that, I just -”

“When?” she demanded again.

“End of May,” he said. “I don’t know when we’ll be back.”

The if hung in the air, but remained unsaid. This was it. The moment she had been dreading since she met him. Well, maybe not that long, but since they had started getting to know each other there in Aldbourne. The war was taking him from her, like it took everything.

“I see…” she trailed off, her annoyance easing up. That was sooner than she had hoped and she didn’t want to waste any precious time being angry at him. “Um...where - wait, I can’t ask you that.” She bit her lip. “When - oh, no, you’ve just told me, that’s right -”

“Juliet.”

“Yes?”

“Wait for me.”

Once again, Ron failed to disappoint her. Despite all the reassurance, she worried that when they shipped out, he would take the opportunity to break it off with her. Instead, he was asking - in his way - for a commitment from her. She held his gaze for a long moment, waiting for him to say more. But he didn’t.

“You really want to stay together?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said assuredly.

“Oh, thank God,” she sighed, and she threw herself into his arms for a kiss.

He returned the kiss with enthusiasm, his lips fiery and desperate against hers. As if he were leaving the following morning instead of a couple of weeks. But Juliet wanted the intensity. She wanted to savor every touch, every kiss, every moment she had before he was gone. She also wanted to let him know that she absolutely would wait for him. She would do anything he asked of her. She just wanted him. Forever, if possible. And if the war robbed her of that, she would at least have the memories of kisses like these. Of nights in his arms. Of his unwavering dedication to her.

***

The arrangements were made for Juliet to return to London once Ron and the rest of the Airborne were off. On his final morning in Aldbourne, they of course made love again, only it was the after that they relished even more. Juliet etched into her brain the feeling of his embrace, the warmth of his skin, the sound of his voice. She wished desperately that she could freeze time and hold onto him for just a little longer. She had found something so wonderful and now it was being dragged away from her.

“Jules,” he said, voice low as if there might be someone listening on the other side of the door.

“Yeah?”

“We’re going to France,” he said.

She blinked and adjusted her position so she could look him in the face. “France?”

He nodded. “I wanted you to know.”

She couldn’t explain why that felt more intimate than anything they had just done in her bed.

“Why tell me now?” she asked, curious.

He swallowed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, but his arm gave her shoulders a squeeze.

“Trust,” he said.

She pressed her lips tenderly to his chest to let him know how much she appreciated his trust. There was no longer a need to specify on or off the record. His statements were privileged. Anything he told her would remain between them.

For a fleeting moment, she considered telling him right then that she loved him. Because if he was going to France, there was a chance he would never come back. And shouldn’t he know just in case? But her heart told her to play it safe. If she didn’t tell him now, perhaps whatever power there was would protect him enough so that she could say it later. If there were still things left to be said, hopefully that would keep him alive.

There were no guarantees, of course. All they had was each other and their promise.

That afternoon, the trucks began rumbling out of Aldbourne. Juliet walked Ron as far as she was allowed. Her chest felt tight as the impending goodbye hung in the air. She hated this. It was too painful. How could it be that the very war that brought them together would also be the reason for their parting? What was fair about that? Nothing, that’s what.

A kiss from Ron drew her out of her thoughts. He held her firmly against him, almost as if he were afraid she would disappear right out of his grasp. When they parted, they were both breathless.

“Be careful,” she said.

His eyes searched hers. “You too.”

Her brain was practically screaming at her to tell him now just what she felt. But she was too afraid. Too afraid it would doom him. Too afraid he wouldn’t say it back. Or even worse, say it only because of the passionate nature of the moment. It had to be when they weren’t so desperate. When they really meant it because whatever was coming was not a threat.

“I’ll write,” she told him.

“I’ll respond when I can,” he returned.

She nodded. Her throat was dry and thick. The lack of tears in her eyes surprised her. How could she not be crying when she could feel her heart breaking so badly? She kissed him again. Just to prolong the last moment where he was only hers.

“Stay safe,” she told him.

He nodded.

With one last kiss, they said goodbye without saying it. Juliet went to the train station and headed home to London. And Ron went to war.

#band of brothers #ron speirs #juliet fletcher #ron speirs x ofc #hbo war #you better you better you bet series #Easy Company #band of brothers fic #hbo war fic

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xbunnybunz · 3 years

Text

Daybreak (7/?) [Wolf Keum x Reader x Alex Go]

Summary: The day brings to you Alex Go, and in the night, Wolf Keum. Your past is inescapable. They build you up and tear you back down, but this is what you need to survive.

Genre: Romance, Angst, Drama

——

There were three messages from Alex on your phone for you when you got back home.

One concerned for your wellbeing, one worried for whether you got home, and another apologizing for being brash.

You skimmed all of them and opened none.

Night turned into day, and that day into another night, until eventually a week had gone past.

He hadn't messaged you again. Even though you weren't expecting anything, you still waited for something, anything, to happen.

You knew you had to be the one to reach out again, but whenever you opened your messages and stared at his name, a stone would sit itself in your gut and weigh you down, heavy, burdensome and unrelenting until you put the phone down.

The thought that perhaps allowing yourself to become close to Alex Go wasn't such a good idea, the thought that maybe someone like you, so stuck and still hurting in the past would only serve to anchor him down, ran through your mind.

You tried everything to distract yourself.

Within the week you had been thrust back into loneliness, you were a fish out of water. You tried to grasp at anything to occupy the space in your mind, jogs in the morning, after school, in the middle of the night. It tired you out, but never enough to placate your mind.

Between the bouts of exercise, you tried to understand the situation. You think about Alex Go and his friend Ben in middle school, and you thought about Alex Go and you in the present. You think about the broken the stoplight, and how it connected to the night everything changed.

He had been the one to destroy the traffic light.

You had many days and nights to ponder about this, alone in your room. He was the reason that on that fateful night, on that sad, dim street corner, the light flashed erratically between "go" and "stop." He was the reason it was brandished forever in your mind, your mourning heart, and on blood stained hands.

Your chest ached with regret, so deep and harrowing that you wished you could tear it out. It was curious how reckless life was with passion, sincerity and good will. It stung especially painfully seeing indifference and injustice can convene so sharply right before your eyes. One second there, the next gone.

When you closed your eyes, you could still see your hand, bleached with moonlight and stilled, reaching out to him. A whisper on your lips, dying on your breath to fall upon deafened ears.

All bitter memories.

Dampening your eyes and shaking your core, but no matter where you looked, how many reasons you turned over, you could find no spite for Alex Go. The same Alex Go who, when smiling, parted the clouds and called off the rain. Alex Go, who could never wish harm on anyone, not intentionally.

In a desperate attempt to salvage peace of mind, you had picked up the pen again despite knowing what would happen.

You'd just write whatever was on your mind. It wasn't a story, or a continuation to a novel, it was just pages and pages of nonsense with no exact order. And though it was indubitably the voice of your mind, you felt nothing while writing it and it frustrated you to no end. It couldn't be helped, these words had been bouncing around your head so long they had made refuge in your skin, your fingers, controlling your life long before they were on paper. But you didn't need to see your thoughts to understand them. You needed solace. Needed peace. Needed someone to tell you that you would be okay.

But you didn't have these things, so you kept pressing on, like pouring out these words could help you find the ones you wanted to send Alex when the basin was empty. Poised and pen in hand, for as long as you could, like endurance training, until your wrists burned and your body ached.

It never lasted long, those bouts of writing. So when you could no longer run, or think, or write, you would toss in turn in bed, skimming the brink of sleep and consciousness. There would be moments of clarity, and they always hit you hard and fast. Made you grab for your phone, adrenaline roaring through your veins when you typed out a response to him, something, anything.

Sometimes it was an apology or a simple hello, but other times the sensation would give you an intense high.

You'd remember his laugh, the fierceness to which he defended you from the bitter taste of blame, and it was then that your heart reached out to him, a cacophony of white noise and static that would always die at your fingertips when you hit backspace, remembering the hurt on his face, the pain because of you.

Then you'd think of Wolf. Somehow, at the end of every restless night you spent rolling in bed, hazel eyes flashed in your vision, watching you inscrutably. Hot like fire, icy like a tundra. Almost close enough to touch and feel the burn, the chill.

Tonight as you lay in bed, you ponder the weekend ahead of you. Wonder how many nights you spent alone in your room. Think about your classmates making more memories while you keep reliving your own in a nightmarish daze.

You think about these things until you exhaust yourself, but even then, sleep refuses to claim you.

So you pick yourself up, dust yourself off. Pull on some clothes, comb through your hair. Then you're out the door again, in search of something to make you feel alive.

When you arrive in front of the bar, the moon is strung high and the stars hang far below it, dipping into the darker crevices of Yeongduengpo. It's later than you'd normally show up and catching Wolf at this hour would be nothing short of a miracle, but you were willing to take your chances.

And then like magic he's right in front of you, before you even open the door, before you even enter the bar.

He's with his friends, the same ones that had seen you the first night and a couple more.

One of his hands is braced on the door, and for a second you think that perhaps he's taken by surprise as much as you are. There's a glimmer in his eye, a quirk of his lip. Then the bell chimes above your heads and pulls you back to reality, suddenly feeling quite small and vulnerable in front of so many prying eyes.

Your fingers tingle so you reach up to tug at your top, the chill of the night air biting into your flesh and raising gooseskin.

Your eyes dart from Wolf to the men behind him, wondering if you should address him, if being associated with you in public was damaging to him.

Before you can think too much, Wolf gives a feral grin. "I'll catch up later. Don't wait up."

It only occurs that he isn't speaking to you when the intimidating crowd moves past him without further question, muttering about which internet café was open 24/7 and who had enough money to pay.

They give passing glances as they saunter past you, though none of them seem to suspect you were the reason for Wolf's sudden change of plans, or even recognize you as the wayward drunk from the weeks prior.

You turn and watch them make their way down the block, spitting and cussing and scaring people into crossing the street. Only when they're specks in the distance to you turn back to Wolf Keum, who's lavender hair gleamed nearly silver in the moonlight.

He's still propping the door open, more leaning on it now than anything else.

"Well?"

You swallow thickly, still a bit stunned from the parade of delinquents he showcased just now.

Just who was Wolf Keum?

The men who you had seen just were no doubt untame, with their school uniforms unbuttoned, hair dyed and tongues lashing obscenities. Yet still with all these pugnacious men in one place, Wolf had managed to command them without even turning to address them directly.

You wondered what about this man could be so powerful, so strong that he could instill his rule as absolute with even such fearsome crowds.

His lips curve into a salacious smirk at your gaping, and only then do you realize he's waiting for you to come in.

You slip from the crisp autumn air into the thrumming atmosphere of the bar with a murmur of an apology, Wolf following not too far behind you.

"You an alcoholic or something?" It's a jest, but the tone of his voice is buttery and dark and makes it much less funny and more nerve-wracking.

"Worry about yourself." You bite, and it comes out curter that anticipated so you chew your lip, trying hard not to look too ashamed.

Wolf isn't deterred, falling in stride beside you and not missing a beat. "It was a business meeting, can't drink through that, as much as those fuckasses make me want to."

You want to respond to his quips, but your mind is preoccupied with the hordes of people swarming the premises.

There's a larger crowd than you're used to, much more mature individuals, faces lined with wrinkles, exacerbated by the yellow lighting, palming at their temples. The usual low hum of conversation is replaced with occasional shouts and crashing glass, though no one seems to think this is unusual but yourself. You push onwards until you see that there's a tired looking businessman in your usual seat.

Wolf senses your hesitation and follows your gaze, catching wind of the situation. He leans over a bit, hands in his pockets, breath hot on your ear.

"You seen the billiards room downstairs before?"

You shake your head no and you can feel him chuckle, exhaling air through his nose. He takes one step forward then another, ambling through the mass of people without another word. For the brief moment he leaves your side, time slows down. You watch Wolf's retreating back and feel almost alone. The bar, usually your place of comfort, had turned unfamiliar and foreign, leaving a cold sensation in your chest.

Your heartbeat comes slow and heavy in your ears, like a beating drum. You wonder why you're even here, what you have to prove to yourself, or anyone else. Fingers clutch at your bag, feeling the outline of your phone, cool and solid in your grasp. You wonder if you had any new messages.

"You coming?"

Wolf calls to you over his shoulder, waiting in the middle of the crowd that seems to part for him naturally.

He extends a hand to you, fingers still, gaze unwavering. His dark eyes dance in the lights, lips pulled into a curve echoing a crescent moon. A man of the night, shining amongst the stars, brightest in the darkest hours.

"Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking."

You reach out and your fingers graze his hand, a gossamer touch, his skin calloused and soft to the touch. A blush works its way across your cheeks and you're glad he doesn't catch it, already turned away to make his way to the crowd. He wraps his hand around your fingers and tugs you along, guiding both of your bodies through the restless throng, past the bar, past the tables and to a staircase shrouded in darkness, illuminated by a single golden lightbulb.

#weak hero #webtoon weak hero #weak hero webtoon #webtoon #webcomic #wolf keum #alex go #wolf keum x reader #alex go x reader #reader insert

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thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch · 3 years

Text

A World-- Unsure

dabi / f.reader

genre: real world to parallel world au? (is that an au? it’ll make sense dw), angst, pinning, fools to lovers? (or dabi is stubborn/scared as all get out)

warning(s): blood, violence/bar fight, descriptions of injuries, cursing (dabi and i both have a potty mouth oops)

w.count: 9.4k

synopsis: You were someone in the middle. You had no mega praise for heros to speak of, but you also had no ill will towards villains either- you had seen both sides. After a few years running a hidden, underground medical base for villains who needed treatment beneath the bar that you ran and owned, you’ve met your fair share of villains. It was odd to think of them as good people, since you depended on them a lot if you got yourself into a pinch. In fact, a lot of your patients became bar regulars on the public downlow. It’s not a big shock that you end up meeting Dabi.

a/n: teehee, first time writing for dabi! I’m pretty excited not gonna lie, since this idea was pretty interesting to think about. this is the first part of A World -- a two part series! I’ll be working on the next part asap, so hopefully it won’t be a horribly long wait- but we’ll see how my time management is in the long run lol. (also, the draft was like 8.6k, i dunno how i added a whole 800 more words)

-x-x-x-

You stood behind the bar, shining glasses as you set up the counter and glanced at the clock hanging on the wall just above the entrance of the small pub. You sighed as you set the glass down before taking the rag you were using and throwing it over your shoulder. It was quiet in the open room filled with circular tabs, rectangular booths and metal rimmed chairs- quiet except for the footsteps of employees prepping for opening.

Your black jeans hung on your waist as your white button up was slightly wrinkled, the long sleeves rolled as best as possible up to your elbows. Your hair up and out of the way so you wouldn’t be constantly fighting it when the rush started. There was a small, pocket apron around your waist with a pocket for a receipt book, a pen, some napkins and pain medicine just in case another headache walked in the door tonight and a few other odds and ends. The only other thing on your person was the new pair of steel toed boots you had indulged yourself to.

“Hey, Boss Lady,” one of your employees called. You looked around, seeing the one who called you peeking their head around from inside the rec room. The room itself was probably one of the most expensive rooms you’ve ever put together. A pool table in the middle of the room, dart boards on either side of the room, a small little entertainment center, a sofa and another mini bar inside run by a trusted bargirl you hired when you opened your pub doors for the first time.

“What is it?”

“Is the rec room rented out for the night? I heard some of the others saying it was.”

That was something else that was different about your little hole in the wall. Since you weren’t all that popular or big enough for a special vip area or an area in general for occasions like birthdays or anniversaries, your patrons could call and make reservations and get the rec room rented out. However, you only let the room be rented on Fridays, Saturdays and Wednesdays. The other days, it was open for anyone to come and go as they please so long as nothing is damaged.

It was Friday night. You couldn’t think of anyone renting it out tonight, but there was a group coming in tomorrow so long as they don’t cancel on you.

You shook your head. “No. It’s tomorrow when it’s rented. You’re clear to leave the dividing ropes put away.”

“Right on,” they thumbs upped you before retreating back into the room to prep and clean before opening.

7:45, a quarter ‘till eight- opening time. You cupped one hand around your mouth. “Hurry up and get your final prepping all done. Quarter ‘till!” Your employees all made some sort of response or sound back to you, signaling that they understood.

Part of you always felt a little guilty each opening night since you knew it wasn’t just regular citizens or the occasional hero off duty who frequented your pub. You knew of the bad people who walk in the doors, stay for a drink and leave without causing a ruckus. You knew of them, because, unknown to your employees, you had a second job.

A second job that had a lot to do with the large, concrete basement of your pub that you refused to tell them about. It wouldn’t be a great business move if you just told people you let villains sneak into your pub to go into the basement where you had a large array of (stolen) medical equipment to treat their injuries.

-x-x-x-

It was well into the midnight rush of the night when the door opened again. The loud combination of everyone’s murmurs and the smell of every type of alcohol someone could name off filtered through the air and almost made you pull out your medicine. After three years running this place, one would think you’d become accustomed to the smells combined with the noise. To no avail.

You had stepped back away from the bar, your back close to the shelves behind you lined with bottles, cups, glasses, and a small old-style antenna radio that, despite being turned on, wasn’t heard over the ruckus.

Heading to the opposite side of the bar after being paged by some random man for a neat glass of whiskey. You snagged a glass, grabbing a bottle of the cheapest brand you could find- because this man’s lack of manners towards a lady, bargirl or not, didn’t impress you. Pouring the liquor into the glass like it was second nature, you reached under the bar to scoop out a sphere of ice to drop into the glass.

Sliding it over to the already tipsy looking man, you were called- more politely this time- from another patron for a bottle of beer. Smiling at him and signaling to him that you heard him, you trotted over to the mini fridge under the bar and grabbed the brand he requested.

As you carefully, and skillfully, popped the tab off with the bar’s edge, you placed the bottle on a coaster and slid it over to him, tapping the bar top with your hand and serving him with a smile. He thanked you, which you were appreciative of, before he turned to his friend next to him and continued conversing.

Moving back to the middle of the bar, you noticed a few empty glasses in front of empty bar stools with bills pinned under them. Taking the bills and pocketing them, you took the glasses and stashed them below the bar in a small tub you kept in a metal cart for easily putting dirty dishes for later.

As you wiped down the bar top, you saw another person, clad in a full black get-up slide into a bar stool that was recently left vacant. They weren’t far from you, just a few feet, but you could smell the scent of smoke on them. You sighed, knowing exactly who it was. Anyone would think that the man who just sat down was just a heavy smoker- and he was, but not so much recently so he claims- but you knew better.

He lifted his arm to rest his elbow on the bar, his chin resting in his palm as you felt him stare at you.

You didn’t say a thing to him, only got a glass off the shelf behind you, mixed some coke with some rum and added a scoop of ice, before placing the glass on some napkins and sliding it towards him.

“Like usual?” You asked, retracting your hand as he had already started to pick up the glass to sip on it.

“Like usual,” he confirmed. This particular man had a deep voice, always laced with a small rough sound- more rough when he’s tired or just plain exhausted. It was a side effect of the smoking and other smoke-like quirks of his personality. “You seem busy tonight.”

“We’re always busy on Fridays, nothing unusual about that. It’s the start of the weekend, everyone wants to drink.” You threw your cleaning rag over your shoulder, shouting to a call of another bar sitting patron as you felt the black, clad, mask covered man’s eyes on your. “You gonna stick around all night, or are you gonna drink and go this time?”

He pulled his mask down to uncover his mouth, dark scars showing under the hood of his jacket just long enough to take a sip, and pull it back over his face. Setting the glass down, he let out a breath and circled his finger along the rim.

“I think I’ll stick around, just to annoy you.” You could hear the smirk on his face as you held back an eye roll for professionalism’s sake.

“How courteous, thank you so very much.” He chuckled at your reply as you left your place in front of him to tend to others paging you left and right. He pushed his curled hand into his cheek as he watched you pad back and forth behind the long bar. You should be grateful he at least planned on paying tonight.

He remained on his barstool the next few hours, only shifting to look around, take a short spin on the stool, or stand to stretch his hunched body before sitting back down. Each time his glass was close to empty, you’d knock your knuckles on the bar top- a signal asking if he wanted a refill- and he'd either knock back or keep the glass away from you as a form of saying yes or no.

Though, it wouldn’t be a proper Friday night mid-shift without something going wrong.

You weren’t sure why, but when 2 am started rolling around, you always grew weary of your patrons. It was the prime time for tipsy, or smashed, people to start trouble. Whether with you, or with other paying customers, or even your employees. Out of all options, you wished they’d pester you so you don’t have to deal with someone else being harassed. Though, even when it did happen to you- which was often since your place was stuck behind a wooden, polished bar- you didn’t ever appreciate it.

You glanced around the filled room and saw a few familiar faces of villains you had treated before who decided to stay in your good graces.

Them being there did make you feel a bit better about you own safety since you knew if something were to happen, they’d jump up to throw down on your behalf, even if you could handle yourself plenty well.

You were once again wiping down the wood of your bar for the gazillionth time this evening when some scumbag, a smashed man who was well over your age, stumbled his way to the bar and slumped himself into a stool and leaned over the counter like some hunchbacked gargoyle.

He reached over the bar to start to fiddle with the beer spigots that lined the end of it. Before he could create a giant mess in the tray beneath them and onto the floor, you rushed over and slapped his hands away.

Instead of hissing at your stinging slaps, he whistled at your actions to keep your property away from him grime hands as you rolled your eyes.

“Sir, keep your hands off of the bar tools.” You reached over and grabbed the half empty bottle of beer from his hands before you poured the rest of the alcohol out of it and tossed it under the bar into the bin where it clinked together with the other beer bottles you’ve tossed tonight. “I’m cutting you off. Sober up, leave your payment and get out before I have you thrown out.”

From down the bar, you knew the scarred man in black was watching you. Whenever this kind of scene went down, you could feel his and all the other familiar eyes on you. For villains, they sure were people of action and debt. Made you feel bad for calling them villains- if you didn’t think about the crimes they most definitely committed on a day-to-day basis.

The drunk man slurred what you assumed was probably something close to reluctance at you cutting him off for the night and your swift decision to kick him out after he paid what he owed.

Persistently reaching over to try and yank on the spigots again, you once again slapped his hands away, going a step further and grabbing his wrists and tossing them away back over to his side of the bar.

“I won’t ask you again, sir.”

Your familiar scarred man set down his drink, the contents in it empty as the remaining, semi-melted ice cubes fell together in satisfying clinks against the glass.

It was times like now where you wished the quirk laws would allow you to use your quirk publicly without a permit or license because of riffraff like this oh-so-lovely hammered gentleman. You were one to break the rules anyways, so you would if push came to shove regardless and you knew that your customers would keep their mouths shut about it.

You’ve gone many a night with bar fights and tassels and not a single cop was called because you could handle the situation yourself, or your trusty villain’s had your back. Your little pub and you were a bend in the rules with a great camouflage jacket over your head and trustful patrons willing to keep a secret or get so drunk they don’t remember what happened. Either option suited you well.

You weren't a hero, nor a villain. You were in the middle- a civilian with some spare time and no interest in sharing what you did the time you're not running your pub.

The man stood from his stool the moment you turned your back to him and not only did he shove his arm against three different beer spigots in a clumsy fall against the bar, but he partly climbed over the bar, reached towards you and yanked you back by your shoulder just so he could get a solid slap on your ass.

The shriek you let out wasn’t loud, it was more of shock of what was happening, followed by instant disgust. Your rear stung at the strength the disgusting man used to slap it before he was drunkenly laughing, his gross breath wafting towards you from his half climbed over body.

Before you could take care of the situation yourself, he was yanked back off to his side of the bar onto his wobbly feet. The instant his feet hit the tile and his chin even twitched to look around to see what yanked him back, glass shattered across his face.

The scarred man who had silently kept you company tonight- and previous nights before that- had grabbed the back of the man’s shirt, yanked him back and away from you as you righted the beer spigots that had already created a big enough mess and smashed his empty, rum glass against the side of his head.

The drunk man hit the ground, grabbing and holding his head as blood dripped from the side of his face and ear. The scarred man looked down at him, shaking his hand about, the purple scars of his wrist showing as he shook the limb. The glass seemed to nick his palm a bit upon impact, but nothing compared to the nasty wound on the drunk’s face.

As the drunk lay on the ground, groaning and bleeding, your defender bent to riffle through his pocket and nabbed his wallet. Pulling out both a card and a wad of cash, he held both towards you.

“What’s his tab?” His rough voice was stern as you just sighed.

You plucked bills from his hand, a handful of twenties, before you put it into your pocket. You looked around, seeing a table from the corner lift a bill in his hand before he waved it at you. You nodded- they were signaling they had his bill. They then held up four fingers and then a fist. A four dollar tab. You decided that you’d keep the extra as a bonus and maybe tip your workers as well for his behavior.

“He’s good to go.” You said as the scarred man put the card back into his wallet and shoved it back into his jacket pocket. He then picked the drunk off the tile and shoved him out the doors before making his way back to the bar.

He stepped over his glass and ice mess as he toed at a larger piece of glass that used to be the bottom of it. He then looked at you with a shrug. You could practically seem the smirk on his face before he spoke.

“My bad.”

Instead of saying anything, you placed a small plastic tub on the bar top and slid it towards him. You flicked your eyes down and he just sighed. Squatting, he picked up his mess of glass and ice the best he could before he gave the tub back to you to throw away. You had already gotten a start on the beer mess that made your nose twitch at the stench.

You always hated the smell of beer.

“Smells like piss,” you muttered to yourself. The scarred man heard you loud and clear though and he stifled a laugh at your annoyance. Once you had it more or less cleaned, you glanced at the closed fist of the man’s cut up hand. You saw small beads of red drop onto your bar. You pushed a handful of napkins towards him to squeeze into his palm. “Come down when we close. We’ll get your hand properly cleaned up.”

He didn’t argue. Just chuckled as he took a sip out of his water bottle you had placed in front of him as he shut the napkins in his grip tightly.

“Sure thing, sweetheart.”

-x-x-x-

4 am: closing time. You sigh as you bid your final employee farewell before you locked the door behind them. You sighed as you walked back to the bar, untying your apron from your waist on the way. You emptied the pockets and placed whatever was inside on the bar top. There was only one person left in the bar, in the same stool he had been in all night.

You thumbed through the bills in your pockets, rounding to behind the bar and unlocking the always locked money drawer just under the far end of the counter where a small card swipe sat for patrons not paying with cash.

Tucking your cash safely away and locking the drawer shut you stashed the key on the keyring with all your other keys in the pocket of your jeans. You pulled your phone from your back pocket and checked the time. About half after now.

“Okay,” you spoke, the man already standing. “Come around the bar and we’ll head down.”

He followed your lead, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his large jacket with his hood still on even in the new found privacy. You walked back into the kitchen and beyond to a small landing that had an unlabeled door and then a separate staircase leading upward past a different doorframe. He looked up the stairs, knowing full well that beyond them lays your apartment.

Part of him was envious that you lived in your place of work. Technically, he could live in his, but he had his own separate place of peace away for breathers. He could only deal with his comrades for so long in a single span of time.

You unlocked the unlabeled door that you told everyone who asked was just a closet for your personal belongings that didn’t fit up in the apartment. Opening it, another set of stairs that lead down was beyond it.

Descending them, the man followed and shut the door behind him. He locked it when it was shut at his back. There was a different entrance to the basement he was descending into outside the bar anyways for the people who knew it was there and needed it.

At the bottom, you flipped on the lights to the large, open room. It wasn’t a giant space, but it was large enough to move around and there was a sofa, a work bench you used as a counter for coffee and random objects, tables and chairs for your patients waiting comfortably. There were two rooms off two of the left side of the main ‘waiting room’ and one to the right- all solitary rooms for overnight patients. The furthest back room had no door and just past the frame was a storage room of medicine, wraps, gauze, antiseptics, salves- just whatever you could get your hands on.

You’re even occasionally gifted treatment items from past clients in hopes to repay the debt they feel they may owe you.

You point towards the long, hard top operating table in the back as you make your way to one of the shelves on the wall. You kept all the basic first aid out in the open since they were easy to replace.

“Go sit,” you direct as the man flipped off his hood and unzipped his jacket. His white tank top was wrinkle from being inside the stuffy jacket all night and he adjusted his belt to sit comfortably and not pull on his belt loops to dig into his hips. Ruffling his black hair, he made his way to the table to lean against it.

You were soon in front of him, hand out towards him asking for his own to inspect.

“You’re always causing some sort of scene every time you come by. You realize it’s getting old, right Dabi?”

The face stapled, scarred pyro-villain just grinned down at you, chest jolting with a scoff of amusement as you pulled the blood beaded napkins he held in his hand since you gave it to him away. Then, you poked around with tweezers pulling small pieces of glass away from his skin.

“Don’t lie. You love when I come by. Besides, someone’s gotta keep you on your toes.”

“I don’t need to be ‘kept on my toes’,” you tutted, making sure there were no pieces of glass left in his palm. When there appeared to be none, you started dabbing the small cuts with antiseptic as he just kept leisurely leaning on your table. “If you keep coming here and just to get all cut up, I’m going to start charging you for not only your drinks, but all the patching up I do to you too.”

“Oh, you’d never,” he mused. He knew you all too well and he also knew that even if he were here daily for scratching his knee or getting a paper cut, you’d never have the heart to charge him anything when it came to treatment.

Maybe he took advantage of that, maybe he didn’t.

It didn’t help that he knew you had the hots for him- I mean, you did tell him about how you felt weeks ago; straight o his face no less. He just brushed it all off, knowing good and well that he and relationships in general just didn’t work out. Besides, he was someone the public knew the face of and he wasn’t just someone to pass on the street and forget the face of.

Dabi rejected you, you knew he would, but he let you down as easy as he could. You just simply wanted to put your feelings out there so nothing would be awkward in the future. It stung sure, but you felt more open with your feelings not bottled up in secrecy.

You wrapped his hand in gauze and called it good enough, placing all your things back where they were. Dabi looked at his hand, flipping it back and forth as he inspected how neatly you’ve gotten at wrapping bandages since the very first time.

“Not bad,” he hummed. The first time he heard of you and came to get treated, you had to treat a nasty gash on his leg and you were clumsily with your bandaging since he was already covered in scars. You were so confused on if you could cover them or not and if you did, if there was a special way. You leaved quickly though.

“Not like you could do any better. You don’t really need any more stitches or staples than you already have.”

“Don’t act like you don’t think they’re sexy,” he teased as he stood up straight, plunging his hands into his pants pockets as he began to follow you around the basement room to room like a dog. You soon left your basement, going back up the stairs, opening the door and leaving before going up the second set of stairs leading up to your apartment.

Dabi followed you the entire way with a shit eating grin on his face.

You sighed as you unlocked your apartment door and looked over your shoulder and down to the burnt man just behind you on lower stair steps.

“Do you need something?”

“Yeah. Inside.”

You cursed under your breath, going inside and him following knowing that you couldn’t argue him out of it. He often did this, getting treated and then going up to your apartment. In fact, there was a time when he would pick your lock and let himself in, so you ended up making him a copy so he could just stop doing it.

He may not be good in relationships and definitely not looking for one, on top of rejecting you, but he could very well enjoy his evenings pestering you instead. they were two distinctly different situations.

Kicking off his boots and fumbling with his jacket, he hung it on the coat wrack- not willing to be yelled at by you for making your home a mess with his junk again- and let himself in. He immediately made a beeline for your living room and plopped himself on your couch like he owned the place and paid your bills.

You had ventured to the kitchen before you went to the living room and tossed him something. Catching it, he saw a poptart in his hand, still wrapped in it’s aluminum wrapping.

“Eat. I’m taking a shower.” He shrugged as you turned and headed to shower as he flipped on your television and let himself finally relax.

It was odd, being around you and in your home. He didn’t even feel this relaxed and loose in his own apartment by himself. Where he lived was nothing fancy and it was cheap, but it was his and the location was kept on the downlow just like he needed. Spending time with the league was fine and dandy, but they could be so damned irritating sometimes, so he didn’t dare even try and nap at the base.

He let his head fall back against the couch and he took deep breaths.

On occasions like this, he did feel a bit guilty. It’s not like he was actually taking advantage of your feelings or your kindness to do what he wanted, you were just too nice for your own good and let him. Don’t get him wrong, you would scold him if he did something you didn’t like- like leaving his jacket on the floor- so it wasn’t like you didn’t want him here.

Dabi could hear your shower running just barely under the sound of the tv’s noise. Sometimes, he’d find himself thinking back to when you told him how you felt and how easily you accepted the fact he said no.

He was just coming back from another stupid league mission and had a pretty nasty cut behind his left shoulder. You were cleaning the blood off his skin, trying not to snag your rags in any staples before you were smearing something onto the wound, making him sigh in of relief of the cooling sensation.

It was when you were pasting a gauze pad on his shoulder and patching it on securely when you blurted out that you liked him. All he did when you said that was laugh at you, to which your silence that followed explained that you weren’t joking and were in fact serious. He looked at you with a face you hadn’t seen before, a look of vulnerability for just a moment, before it shifted to one of seriousness.

“I’m not interested. Sorry, doll.” You nodded at his quick rejection. Though you accepted it fairly easily, he could still see the slight furrow of your brow and dip in your lips with his rejection. You may have even seen his rejection coming, but hearing it still had to be a blow to your heart.

He was glad the relationship between you two hadn’t changed regardless of how you felt and how he said no. You still put up with his bullshit and he still hung around like a fly you couldn’t smash under a flyswatter because it kept evading the strikes. It was still comfortable here- in your place.

Dabi stood from the couch, moving to your window only to lean out when he pulled his cigarettes from his pocket and lit one. You had really gotten on his ass once when you caught him smoking in the middle of your living room without a window even open. You told him to smoke out a window, or go outside to contaminate his lungs claiming you dealt with the smell of smoke enough during bar hours.

Flicking a small, blue flame with his index finger, he lit the stick and huffed. Nicotine really accompanied his quirk- it was like he and cigarettes were just meant to be since he himself was a human-sized lighter.

He heard the door to your bathroom open and soon you stepped out with grey sweat and a cheap, cutoff shirt that just barely exposed your stomach on, towel drying your hair. You looked at him, water still barely dripping off your eyelashes and hair strands untouched by the towel.

“Glad to see you’re listening to me,” you told him as you nodded towards the smoke that he took a draw from. He puffed the smoke out the window as he turned around to lean against the open pane. His hand out the window to keep the crumbling ash from dropping inside.

“I can behave sometimes too, you know.”

You scoffed at him, turning to grab a water bottle from your fridge in the kitchen and returning to the living room. “Yeah, not likely.” You sat on the couch to mindlessly watch whatever channel the tv was on and once Dabi and finished smoking, he shut the window and rejoined you on the couch. His arm was resting on the back of the couch as you had pulled out your phone and began to scroll through apps and occasionally looking back up to the tv.

It was moments like this where the uncertainty really hit him.

It was this- these comfortable situations- that frightened him. He was a bad person, a person who’s done bad things and will continue to do bad things. He used to sit around your apartment and bug you with questions. Had you ever ratted anyone out? Were you really a completely secretive person when it came to your unofficial side job? Were you really someone to be trusted? Why did you do what you did in the first place?

Now, he didn’t ask anything anymore. He grimaced at himself. Maybe he was letting himself get too comfortable here.

“I’m going away for a while,” he suddenly blurted out. You glanced up at him from your phone.

“Have some big job or something coming up?”

“Yeah,” he lied, “some league stuff I gotta deal with.”

“Any idea how long you’ll be gone?”

“No idea. Probably a few weeks I bet.” Dabi couldn’t stop himself from lying to you and he got irritated at himself for feeling even the slightest bit bad for doing so. This was the only way though, the only way to try and get back to the rough, guarded villain he was supposed to always be.

Dabi had to get away from you for a while.

“Well,” you started, looking back down. He looked at you, seeing you frown just a bit- he bit his cheek. “Stay safe. If you need any patching up when you get back, you know where to find me.”

He lowered his chin, his eyes lidding as he hardened his resolve. His decision was final, and he had to follow through with it. He looked back to the tv, trying to bask in theses few final moments.

“Yeah, sure.”

-x-x-x-

Dabi’s irritated. He’s been irritated actually.

He’s sitting at the bar, not your bar, but the bar in the league’s headquarters. He sat slouched in a stool as Kurogiri- as usual- stood behind the bar. The glass of some brown liquor that Dabi had nursed for the past hour started to taste like static to him. He missed your bar’s liquor- the revelation made him more irritated.

The entire reason he’s avoided going to your pub and always looked around corners in the city to make sure you wouldn’t bump into him by accident was so he could squash whatever the fuck he was feeling when he was around you down into dust. Though, theses recent last couple days had proven that his plan was backfiring.

Instead of forgetting what it felt like to be comfortable and content and relaxed, he was missing it. He was missing the air of serene you always carried everywhere you went and he dared to say he yearned for it again.

Dabi clicked his tongue as he pushed his forehead into his palm when Shigiraki had walked into the bar from wherever he had been before. Seeing the hunched over excuse of a comrade, he groaned. The leader had often heard of your patchwork jobs for villains. He himself had even met with you once- not for any injuries he had sustained, but for a simple meeting to exchange greetings with potential allies. Anything helped for his cause.

Shigiraki also knew that Dabi often frequented your pub, and for whatever reason he hadn’t been recently. His sour mood as of late paired with his lack of attendance to your business and attention was too easy to put together.

“I’m really sick of you moping around here,” the leader complained. Dabi lifted his forehead from his palm and glared across the room to the leader who now took a seat one stool away from Dabi. “Go be a killjoy somewhere else.”

“Oh, piss off.”

His mood began to spiral rapidly when Toga and Twice had come into the bar as well, coming back from wherever the fuck they had been. Toga- trying her best to get on Dabi’s every nerve- was told by Kurogiri that his mood was unpleasant because he hadn’t been to a specific bar in town for some time now.

Dabi felt offended that Kurogiri connected his bad mood to the bar and not you.

“Maybe I should kick the crap outta you myself, so you can go back to what's-her-name and then maybe you’ll finally lose the attitude.” Okay, that one earned the hand-fetishist leader a growl from the pyromaniac. It only made Shigiraki scoff in a small victory, knowing that everyone around the league could see that his sour mood was solely revolving around you- or lack thereof.

Toga, ever on the hunt for new ‘friends’, immediately jumped at the idea of finally going to the mystery lady who heals everyone just because she has a kind heart. An idea that Dabi shut down without so much as batting an eyelash.

“But, why not!” Toga whined. Dabi rolled his eyes. Villain or not, Toga was just a high schooler with more than enough psychotic tendencies to warrant concern. If he had it his way- you’d never even get the chance to set your eyes on the blonde, twin-bunned psycho.

The constant chartering centering in on him and you began to grate on his nerves and before long he was stomping up to his feet and out the bar door. Shigiraki just scoffed as Toga pouted. Twice was simply mocking and jesting at the burned man who ‘just ran away’.

Dabi had had enough. He was going back to your pub- but it wasn’t going to be because he missed you. He just wanted a drink in peace and fucking quiet. At least away from those idiots.

-x-x-x-

Dabi had slithered his way into your bar- pushing his way in with a group so that when you shouted from your place behind the bar to greet them in and to tell them to just find a seat, you wouldn’t recognize him. He had stopped by his apartment before making his way here to change into clothes he hoped you wouldn’t recognize him in either.

The large, indigo tinted turtle neck he wore was way too large on his torso. The neck was horribly stretched out and pulled up as far as it could be to cover his jaw and mouth so that he didn’t have to wear the mask he knew you would recognize.. He traded his normal jacket with a different one he’d kept around for city crawling as he had it half way zipped up and the hood flipped up to hide his hair and scarred ears. Keeping his chin down, he used the shadow of his hood and the shadows the pub lights casted to keep the scars just under his eyes more or less out of sight.

He grumbled at himself. Why was he going to such lengths to make sure you didn’t see him in the first place? In the past, he wouldn’t have gone to the lengths to stay on the downlow in public like this; he would’ve just gone back home and crashed or drank alone or something of the sort. You probably weren’t even under the impression he was back from the mission you thought he was on.

He slid into a booth in the back corner where he could still see you working behind the bar. Pacing back and forth, talking and serving patrons and just doing your general work. It felt strange seeing you work from all the way in the back instead of in his usual barstool, front row seat. He bit his tongue when he caught himself almost missing his up close proximity to you.

He was soon slid a bottle of beer- even if he didn’t really like the taste- as he nursed it. He’d occasionally scan the bar to see what kind of business you had tonight. When he wasn’t, he was scrolling mindlessly on his phone with glances up to the bar every so often. He felt uneasy when you weren’t in his sights, even with you so close by.

An hour after he had entered the pub, the doors had opened roughly enough to make tables turn their heads or hush up their conversations to see who had just made the racket coming in. Dabi glanced, pulling his hood back just a bit to see past the fabric of it.

A group of three men had walked into the pub. Gruff looking fellas, but nothing all that special. They started scanning the pub area, looking from tables, to faces, to chairs, all the way to the bar. The flame user didn’t appreciate the snarl on the middle man’s face when his eyes landed on you busting the bar top with your rag.

Shutting the door behind them, the three of them split apart, one heading towards the rec room and another heading in Dabi’s side of the bar. The middle man marched up towards the bar and instead of taking a seat- opted to lean on the bar between two already seated patrons. They ended up leaving their bills and scurrying out of the joint.

You took their payment and bit your tongue to keep from telling the obviously trouble-looking newcomer off for running off your customers. In fact, you completely disregarded him.

Once your bills were collected and placed into your apron pocket, you looked at the middle man leaning on the bar square in the eyes. You held unamused eye contact with him for a beat before you shut your eyes and easily turned away from him.

Clearly unhappy with the attention he so desperately wanted, he reached over the bar and yanked on the back of your work button up. You let out a shocked, choked gasp as you dropped the glass you had in your hand. The sound of shattering glass echoed around the pub as it became completely silent.

Dabi jumped from his booth, standing at his table instead of leisurely sitting like he had been as he watched the man reach out for your shirt. He growled under his breath when he yanked you back towards him over the bar.

This trouble-seeker was new to your pub, you could tell this the moment he came in with his two buddies. He didn’t know of the amount of eyes on him now that he had gained the attention he wanted. And he didn’t know how many of those eyes were villains ready to take him out.

You coughed as he tried dragging you completely over the bar just by your shirt collar. Your lower back pushed painfully into the wooden edge of the bar as your heels came off the floor, your toes being the only leverage you had left on your side of the bar top.

You wanted to swing your elbow back and pop the son of a bitch in the nose, but you had to keep all ten of your fingers on the front of your collar to keep it from painfully pulling against your throat. You attempted to unbutton the top buttons for a window of breath, but you didn’t get the chance to before you were dropped.

“Hey!” A voice you had recognized from a past medical visit came from behind you and the man yanking on your shirt. He had groaned as he dropped you, your unsteady toes combined with your heels slamming back down to the floor and your spine dragging down the edge of the bar all made you drop to the floor. You hunched over on the floor, gagging as you pulled on your shirt’s fabric away from your neck- the hemming all stretched out and well ruined by now.

The bar felt like walls that encased around your slumped over body and you soon felt someone hop over the bar and rub your back. Looking up with teary eyes from your lack of breath, you recognized the female criminal you had treated a handful of times before. She soothed you behind the bar as it sounded like pure chaos erupted from beyond the bar.

The short screams and shouts of whatever customer didn’t feel like fighting and fleeing. you even heard your employees ducking out- as you instructed them to do when bar fights broke out. You did not want to feel out accident reports, so your rules of running when things get nasty was non-negotiable.

You were content to just stay sitting on the floor, catching your breath until the fighting was done. You knew those who were fighting against the law were already defending you and your pub- they would take care of it.

It was their safe space and these thugs had just tried disrupting that space.

It was only when a plume of fire shot out from what looked like to be the back corner of your pub did you jump to your feet. Leaning against the bar with the villainess at your side, holding you to make sure you didn’t tumble over, you saw Dabi.

“Dabi?!” You were shocked to see him. He hadn’t been around due to his work (so he told you), and you were confused on why he was here now. Why was he wearing clothes you hadn’t seen before and when did he get here?

He was quick to jump into the fray, mixing in with forces to drive the stupid thugs out of your pub, but not without beating them within an inch of their life first. Between tables being thrown, chairs knocked over, fire bursting then dispersing and fist and legs flying- it was hard to keep up with what was actually happening.

What you did see though, was from the rec room someone coming out and pointing their fingers out towards your villains- your allies. Their fingertips started to open and sharp, needle like tips were ready to be fired out of them.

You climbed over the bar, the villainess calling out to you to not get involved. You stumbled into a chair, holding yourself up as you shouted over the commotion.

“Hey! Get behind a wall or table!” You pointed to the man under the rec room doorway. “Don’t let whatever he’s gonna shoot out of his fingers hit you!” You were ready to duck back behind a table when you were shoved in the chest by the third man you saw enter with the thugs earlier. He just appeared from no where it seemed when he struck you.

Knocking you into a nearby table, you slid onto it before it tipped and you tumbled off of it when it fell. Groaning, you cursed under your breath. You were getting really fucking sick of being pushed around tonight. You got to your knees to get yourself back to your feet when you felt something push against your back and wrap around your shoulders, keeping you down.

Whatever was keeping you down and covered was warm. It covered your back and kept your shoulders encased. Reaching up, it was an arm that wrapped around your and it was someone’s chest that pushed against your back. Looking back you saw his scarred ears and neck before you saw his face. Not to mention the blast of burning blue that shot out opposite of his outstretched other arm.

“Dabi,” you gasped as you felt his body start to push more into yourself. You whined, his weight beginning to crush you. “Hey, get off me,” you huffed.

“Oh, you so owe me,” he chuckled before he fell against your completely. His arm dropped and the one that wrapped around you previous fell limp and released you. Rolling off to the side awkwardly to try and catch his fall to the tile, you saw a small needle sticking from his neck.

“Oh, shit” you muttered. Turning, you lifted a table to cover your back while the rest of the chaos kept going on behind you. Pushing him onto his back, he was out cold. Looking him over, you didn’t see any worrisome wounds on him- in fact he didn’t look wounded at all. It was only that needle in his neck. “No doubt from that guy’s quirk,” you mumbled as you inspected it.

Did he cover you so you didn’t get hit with the needle instead? You didn’t want to work yourself up into a frenzy at the thought of him taking a shot for you- but no matter how you looked at the situation, that was exactly what happened.

It was a small, thin like a sewing needle with a ball point on the back of it. Whatever this needle is coated in obviously knocked the pyro out. You peeked over the table to see the same man ready to shoot a second round from his fingertips.

“Take out the needle shooter! His needles will render you unconscious!” Your shouted leadership to take out one of the three low-level threats was clear and it was probably 20 minutes later when the three thugs were tied up and unconscious.

You sighed, finally feeling safe again in your busted and destroyed bar. You groaned for the umpteenth time knowing it was going to cost a fortune to get the tables repaired. Not to mention the seared wallpaper that peeled from the previous heat and broken glasses, frames and damaged light fixtures. You would have to close your doors for repairs for at least a month.

As you looked around, you moved from your sitting position to instead kneel at Dabi’s side.

“Can someone help me bring him downstairs? And lock the entrance.” Dabi was picked up and was soon being carried back behind the bar and through the doors, waiting for you to come unlock the way down as someone else had safely latched your pub doors shut. Your employees would understand if you just shot them a few texts.

Before you went into the back, you pointed at the unconscious needle shooter. “Also, bring him down too, but keep him tied up. I need to know what his quirk is so that I know exactly why he did and how to treat it. Anyone else who needs treatment, you can come down too.”

An hour later, you had Dabi’s unconscious body hooked up in one of your rooms to small machines to make sure he wasn’t dying. Whatever the needle was- you concluded that it at least wasn’t poisonous. You had taken it from his neck and had it run for tests. It wasn’t coated in anything, but the tip of it had released a sort of potion into his body from where he had been stores in the ball point end; but you weren’t sure what it was.

You moved away from your laptop on the small desk you had next to Dabi’s temporary bed. You leaned your elbow against the wood and stared at him.

“Until I figure out what exactly happened, I have no idea when he’ll wake up.” You frowned as worry began to churn in your stomach. It eased you that his life didn’t seem to be in danger, but that didn’t really help anything else. He was immobile and unresponsive until further notice as far as you knew.

You sighed getting up and searching for his phone. Finding it in his jacket pocket, you plucked it out and began to go through his contacts. You were glad you watched him punch in his lock code one day and held it in your memory.

Finding a contact under ‘Childish Leader’, you immediately began to ring it. You knew who Dabi worked under, and who this so called ‘childish leader’ was- you did meet with him one time after all. When the line picked up, you were greeted with a sigh.

“What,” a strained voice annoyingly greeted.

“You’ll want to come to the location I’m about to send you,” you started. You swore you heard the frown and confused brow drip on his face when it wasn’t Dabi’s voice that was on the phone. “Want to know what happened to Dabi? Then get your wrap quirked friend to get you over here, Shigaraki.”

You quickly ended the call, letting out a shaky breath and feeling your heart pound in your chest. Dabi only ever really complained about Shigaraki, and you had only met hi that one time for general introductions, so you didn’t know much about him. You hoped that just telling him what to do before sending him your coordinates would be enough to just get him to show up. You’d deal with the rest later.

You stood from your chair as you looked down at Dabi. He always looked quite peaceful sleeping- it was odd since he was always scowling when he was awake. He’d smirk and tease, sure, but you don’t think you’d ever seen a real smile on his face before.

You chuckled to yourself, touching his hair just once before you stopped- knowing he didn’t like you touching him like that. He wanted to keep you at arms length because of your feelings and you knew that- so unconscious or not, you had to keep his wants at the forefront of your mind.

A knock sounded at the door when you saw one of your allied villains come in. “Some guys are in the bar, asking for you. Some freak with a hand on his face and a gimp looking dude.” You almost laughed at the villain's description.

“Tell them I’ll be up in a moment.” The villain left as you looked once more at Dabi. You smiled down at him. “Thanks for the save, you reckless idiot.”

-x-x-x-

Dabi groaned as he rolled from his back to his side. He was only vaguely aware he was previously on his back ,which already annoyed him- he was not a back sleeper. He peeked his eyes open and stared at the ceiling above him.

That wasn’t his apartment ceiling? Sitting up, he rubbed his forehead, closing his eyes and taking a breath. His head pounded and he opened his eyes back up to see the room he was in. It wasn’t his apartment at all. He was in a bedroom, but he hadn’t seen this room before.

The last thing he remembered was jumping into a bar fight at your pub and then covering your back when that finger-freak tried shooting something out of his fingertip at you. He didn’t even realize his body moved until he felt the needle meant for you dart into his neck.

Rubbing at his neck, he felt no pain. Getting up, he looked around the room.

This room wasn’t yours- he’d seen it before- and it wasn’t anyone else’s he knew of. He wasn’t at the league HQ either, that run down place didn’t have rooms as well kept at this one. Surely you wouldn’t have pushed him off to some random villain until he woke up and this was some stranger’s room... right?

After a moment, he started getting nosy. As he opened more drawers and books and notepads, he got more and more confused. These were all things he was interested in. All the notebooks had his handwriting in them and his name was signed on papers and sticky notes scattered on a corkboard hanging on the wall. The phone on the bedside table and he unlocked with his passcode and started going through it- it was all his information just like normal, but something was off.

He felt off. He looked at his palms, the scars he’s had since he was younger still showing on his skin. Something nagged in the back of his head and he knew that he had to get answers and the best way to do that is to track you down.

Grabbing a jacket and zipping it up to his chin and placing sunglasses on his face, he left the room that was filled with, presumably his own things, but definitely not his things.

The roads and buildings all around were the same as he remembered. However, when he came to your pub’s building, it looked different. Shabby almost. Trying to go inside, the door was rusted and jammed. Jostling with the door wasn’t getting him anywhere and he knew if he tried to bust it down you’d have his ass on the wall for the damage.

Looking up, he saw the window that lead into the living room of your apartment. Walking around the building he started up the fire escape and carefully treaded the side of the building to the window before he shimmied it open from the outside and hopped inside.

“What the fuck?” The apartment that was once filled with your furniture and belongings was empty. Not just empty, but it was dusty, barren and isolated like no one had been in there for years. Jogging downstairs, he ran into the bar to find it the same way: empty.

No tables, no chairs, no booths. No bottles lining the dusty shelves and no frames of art or recreational items in the rec room. it even still had the old, tacky wallpaper instead of the wallpaper he remembered. The stench of dust filtered through his nose and made his throat burn- it was apparent that the place hadn’t been aired out in years.

Turning back, the door to the basement he had been in so many times wasn’t even there. When he left the building to go to the basement the backway, the backway in didn’t seem to exist either. It was like the basement he had spent so much time in with you patching him up was never there to begin with.

“This is fucking crazy,” he mumbled as he pulled his phone from his pocket. He wasn’t used to feeling whatever was bubbling in his chest. It was painful, like caltrops tearing apart his stomach and chest as he searching for your number in his contacts. He began to start walking back to where your apartment use to be, to go back inside the abandoned pub, when he dialed your phone. He was soon stuck in his tracks when he caught sight of his reflection in a window.

The window’s glass was cracked, barely held in place in the frame as he stared back at his reflection. Reaching up, he ran his scarred hand through his hair. His hair that wasn’t dyed black; his hair that was as white as his mothers.

“Where the fuck am I?” He breathed as he heard the monotone voice over the phone.

-I’m sorry, but the number you have dialed does not exist-

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