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mgparker · 3 years ago

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another chance [pt.3]

[peter parker x reader]

NO WAY HOME SPOILERS

summary: after you and peter go your separate ways in order to find your friends, you find yourself walking into an unexpected battle

warnings: MAJOR NO WAY HOME SPOILERS, domesticated fluff, an important star wars debate, ANGST, injuries, mentions of death, reader and peter get separated for a good minute (sorry, it’s for the sake of the plot)

series masterlist

no way home spoilers below the cut, don’t look at TAGS you have been warned

pairing: tasm!peter parker x reader

The next morning was a mess… to say the least. Between you almost burning the kitchen down during breakfast and Peter screaming for help in the shower, you were almost 100% positive that the cops would show up at your door any second now.

“What do you mean it’s cold?!” You screamed from the kitchen, trying to flip an egg Gordon Ramsay style. On the other burner, the bacon was… well, it didn’t even look like bacon. More like charred strips of… something.

“I mean, it’s cold!”

“Turn the knob to the left!��

“I did!” All the yelling made Peter’s voice crack dramatically.

You rushed to turn off the burner, a small flame having formed in the bacon pan. “All the way to the left!”

“It is not WORKING!” Peter groaned your name in frustration, followed by a loud thump against the bathroom wall.

Did he just… is he throwing a tantrum?

“Oh my G—okay hold on!” You fanned the smoke detector aggressively, praying to whoever would listen above that it wouldn’t go off.

The bathroom door opened, Peter’s head sticking out through the crack. His hair was still tossed around from his sleep, eyes squinting at the fogginess in the apartment. “Why would you do that?” Peter scrunched his nose at the smoking pans on the stove.

You felt the frustration rise in your bones, glaring daggers at him. “Do you think I did this on purpose?”

“You know you shouldn’t touch the stove,” Peter scolded, making your blood boil even more. “It never ends well for any of us.”

“Then I guess there’s absolutely no hope for me in any world, is there?!” You snapped, annoyed that your faults followed you in every universe. Would you ever be able to cook?

Peter couldn’t help but laugh at your irritation, recognizing the expression on your face from the many times his version of you would nearly burn the house down. The corners of his eyes crinkled adorably, smile stretching across his face in glee. It made your temper sizzle down, melting away with every second that Peter laughed. He sounded happy.

Far happier than he was last night when he tore his heart out and held it in the palm of his hand for you. You stopped fanning the ceiling, chuckling along with the brunette.

Eventually, Peter’s fit of giggles ceased. Smiling, he stared at you with an intense look in his eyes. It took a few moments of silence for you to snap out of his spell and jump into action. “Let me,” you pushed a window open in your living room. “Fix that shower for you.”

Stepping aside, Peter let you into the bathroom. You sped your way to the shower, pushing the curtain out of the way and giving the knob a firm whack!

“Oh, okay,” Peter mumbled from behind you, a bit confused with your method.

Then, you turned the knob all the way to the left as you had previously instructed. Peter stuck his hand under the stream of water, feeling a steady warm flow. “Yeah,” you saw Peter’s confused expression. “It’s these New York apartments. You can’t have everything you want.”

You walked out of the bathroom, closing the door behind you. “Especially with all these damn bills!” You finished through the door.

After tossing your sad excuse for breakfast and getting ready in the privacy of your room, you met a freshened up Peter in the living room. Your feet stopped in their tracks when you saw the news playing.

The footage of the octopus villain (he called himself Doctor Octavius when you had met him at the Sanctum) was all over the screen. It was a relatively high quality video of the bridge incident, better than you’d seen circulating the media last night.

Rubbing his face in distress, Peter looked up at you as you marched over to the television. “When were you going to tell me about this?”

Shutting the TV off, you shrugged casually. “Sometime between finding my world’s Peter Parker and figuring your whole situation out.”

“These people…” Peter stressed. “They could’ve gotten hurt.”

“Look, there was nothing you could do. By the time you showed up in this New York City, Doc Ock was gone and dealt with.”

You flinched immediately as the words left your mouth carelessly. His ability to save others was probably a very sensitive topic on his part, if what he revealed about your death last night was any indication.

“One Peter Parker shouldn’t have the carry the weight of two worlds on his shoulders,” you added carefully. “Besides, our Peter had it covered.”

At this, Peter gave you a grateful look and finally stood up. “Okay,” he agreed reluctantly. It was as if he didn’t want to allow himself the comfort of cutting himself some slack.

On the streets of Queens, you and Peter walked side by side. Little cliché butterflies flew in Peter’s stomach whenever your arms grazed his. “So, can’t you just call your Peter and ask him where he is?”

“No,” you rubbed your hands together to generate some warmth. “He had to get rid of his phone a few days ago. Some dick leaked his number to the press.”

“Ouch,” Peter couldn’t imagine how many messages had flooded your Spider-Man’s phone. “What about MJ?”

You were pleasantly surprised that he remembered your friend’s name, though he did seem to know some sort of MJ back on his world too. “I’m assuming she did the same, seeing as she hasn’t answered my texts since last night. Same with our friend Ned.”

Not to sound up your own ass or anything but you swore you were the only one with a brain, having changed your number as soon as Peter’s scandal blew up in the media.

You led Peter to your favorite breakfast place—it was down the road, a short walk from your apartment.

“So, Parker,” you mumbled through a bite of your egg sandwich—a habit that you had yet to break. You swallowed. “Tell me, how’s your world handling the aftermath of the Blip? Our government has really been shitty with this whole situation.”

You were curious to see if this Peter’s universe had maybe done things better.

“Uh, the Blip?” Peter was confused.

“Yeah, yeah, I don’t mean to bring politics into all of this but—”

“No, what’s the Blip?” Peter asked, sipping on his iced coffee (which you had scrunched up your nose at).

“You didn’t experience half of the world’s population just vanishing out of—eh, well I guess that makes sense. You’re from a completely different universe so…”

Across the table, Peter was shocked at your casual demeanor. He watched as you took a sip of your tea, highly concerned over what just came out of your mouth. “What happened?”

You realized he probably came from a world that held very different beings from yours, seeing as he hadn’t mentioned any heroes other than himself. “Some big purple alien snapped half of the population away. Myself included—”

Yourself?! Peter grew concerned with every word that left your mouth.

“—but it’s okay because Tony Stark saved the day!”

A laugh left your lips, “that rhymed.”

The silence at the table was tense. Well, at least on Peter’s part. You were unfazed and enjoying the last of your sandwich.

“For the sake of my mental health, I’m going to pretend like you didn’t tell me any of that.” Peter announced after a minute.

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best.”

Your waitress approached the table just then, grabbing your empty plates and asking if you needed anything else. Stealing a glance over at you, Peter politely declined and asked for the check. You had been at this place plenty of times with MJ or Ned, so you knew the rough estimate of your bill. Taking out a small wad of cash, you slapped the money onto the table before Peter could get a word in.

“Ha! Twenty exactly,” You smiled triumphantly when the check arrived (though the two of you stayed in the booth chatting for a little while after you paid the tab).

“—and that is exactly why the prequel trilogy will always remain a masterpiece,” Peter had just sat through a ten-minute lecture on why each of the Star Wars prequels were (in your humble opinion) the best creations in cinema.

Satisfied, you leaned back and waited for Peter to agree.

“Yeah, I’m sorry but I’m gonna have to disagree with everything you just said.”

“Bullshit!”

“The original trilogy will forever be known as the best Star Wars movies in existence.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“You know, I might just have to leave this diner and never look back. You’ve shattered my spirit, sweetheart.”

“I’m a firm believer in respecting everyone’s opinions,” you took a deep breath, leaning forward to intimidate Peter. “Even if they’re completely and utterly wrong.”

Peter, who had been leaning in as well, scoffed and pushed your shoulder lightly. “That’s it! I’m done.” He slipped out of the booth and walked out of the diner in a ridiculous fashion.

“Pete!” You laughed, slapping a generous tip on the table, and calling out a firm ‘thank you’ to the waitress. “Stop it!”

When you caught up to him outside, Peter was laughing. Leaning against the wall with his head titled back and giggles spilling from his lips, you couldn’t help but marvel at the sight of him.

Being this beautiful should be an absolute crime.

Shoving his shoulder, you left the man behind. You could hear his laugh following behind you, blending in with the sounds of NYC. Cars honked in the distance and people talked from the various outdoor restaurant areas.

After spending some time to know Peter (and vice-versa), the two of you made it to a subway station.

“Well, this is where we say goodbye,” Peter’s face dropped into one of panic. “For now!” You added.

“What are you talking about?”

“We have to find my Peter Parker and figure out what the hell we’re going to do. It’ll be much easier to find him if we split up.”

To Peter, this sounded like a very bad idea. Going your separate ways meant he wouldn’t be able to protect you. It was just something that was out of question.

Peter made his reluctance known, starting a small argument between the two of you… to which he finally conceded.

“How will I find you?” he absolutely hated the idea of leaving you alone, but your stubborn nature wouldn’t allow it any other way. Splitting up would be the fastest way to find your friends.

“Here’s my number,” you fished a pen from your bookbag and scribbled it onto the back of his hand. “Find a payphone or something? I don’t know.”

“Those are practically ancient!” You were already walking away, Peter’s voice sounding more distant with every step you took. “In any universe!”

Without turning around, you laughed and gave him a shrug. “See you, Parker!”

The next time you did end up seeing this Peter was hours later.

In which time you passed by Happy Hogan’s condominium, miraculously finding your Peter Parker along with the gang of multiversal villains.

“Uh… dude?!” Your entrance caused everyone to face you quite suddenly. “What’s going on?”

Dumbfounded, your Peter Parker looked like a fish out of water. The last thing he wanted was for you to find out about his plan without prior debriefing. He knew you weren’t going to like this... at all.

“What is going on, Peter?” Your patience was wearing thin.

Peter turned towards his Aunt May, whispering something. She gave him an understanding nod and he came over to join you.

“Look,” Peter grabbed your shoulders gently, leading you to a far corner. He didn’t need his abilities to sense that you were going to flip out any second now. “Doctor Strange and I had a... disagreement.”

“A disagreement?”

“Yeah, of a sort,” said Peter nervously. “I ended up trapping him over the Grand Canyon I think?”

It took a few seconds, but you did exactly as Peter expected. “What?!”

“SHHH! No, it’s okay. It’s okay. We’ll figure out how to get him out of there… someday—but for now, we need to help these guys out.”

“These guys?!” Your best friend shook your shoulders roughly, so you lowered your voice. “These guys are villains. Villains that happened to come after you in other universes.”

Over his shoulder, you gave them all a suspicious eye. They stood in their spots awkwardly, probably listening to every word you were saying. After some more back-and-forth, the two of you reached an agreement.

“You know I trust you, Pete. More than anyone, but we need to be careful with these guys.”

“I know,” Peter reassured, letting go of your shoulders and heading back over to the refugees. You followed hesitantly. “Let’s get started!”

The rest of the afternoon was spent helping Peter construct a chip for Octavius (which was surprisingly successful) and a neutralizer for Dillon. The process of extracting his power had already begun, Peter taking a moment to change back into his suit.

Alone with Dillon and Osborn, you tried to think of something to say. “So… here’s to the new beginnings, eh?”

Dillon didn’t look amused, on the fence about losing his electric abilities. Norman Osborn gave you an unsettling smile, “Of course, another chance for a different story.”

What was that supposed to mean…? Maybe he’s just cryptic… and weird. “Uh, yeah.”

“May?” Peter burst through the room suddenly. His behavior seemed trance-like, and you could only compare it to one other thing.

It was the tingle.

“Peter?” You approached him slowly, foolishly turning your back on Dillon and Osborn. If you had kept your eyes on him for a second longer, you would’ve caught the change in Norman Osborn’s demeanor.

The next few moments happened too quickly, a web shooting across the room without warning and trapping Osborn’s hand to the wall.

A diabolical smile stretched across his face. “That’s some neat trick, that sense of yours.”

“Norman?” The newly healed Octavius questioned.

“Norman’s on a sabbatical!”

Everyone stood frozen, shocked at his transformation. You inched closer to May, ready to book it as soon as Peter gave you the signal. “My friends,” the Green Goblin smiled once more. “You have got it all wrong. These are not curses… they’re gifts.”

Your heart plummeted as Dillon seized the Arc Reactor and blasted Octavius through the window and out the building. The shattering of glass kicked your instincts into overdrive, pulling May out the door aggressively and pushing her towards the stairs.

Overwhelmed, she tried to go for the elevators instead.

“No!” You gave her another push towards the stairs. “There’s an incredible amount of electricity pulsing through this building. Go!”

Thankfully, May was too panicked to argue. Your sense of self-preservation begged you to follow her to safety but your loyalty to Peter was stronger. Pushing your fears aside, you ran back down the hall.

A scream escaped your lips when the Goblin suddenly threw Spider-Man out of the apartment. Peter was slammed into the wall, struggling to get back up.

What do I do? What do I do?! You panicked, watching as the Goblin broke through the chunk of cement Peter threw at his head. “Strong enough to have it all, too weak to take it!”

Peter lunged at him once more, catching sight of your frame down the hall, but was quickly spun around and kicked in the stomach. The impact must’ve been great because the boy soared past you.

The Green Goblin was speedy, grabbing onto your arms and spinning you around so that your positions were switched. His back was facing Peter and you could see the boy struggling to recover.

“Let me go, you freaky bitch!” You fought against his hold, kicking with every ounce of energy you had. By some miracle, your knee collided with a spot that even the mighty Goblin couldn’t ignore.

His body doubled over in pain, one hand coming down to cover his lower parts and the other digging his nails harder into your skin. “All whom Peter Parker loves meet doom,” He sneered, bringing you close before shoving you through a broken window.

It seemed as if the world went silent for a moment, the ground disappearing beneath you.

Please don’t let the other Peter Parker find out about this. You pleaded in your head. He can’t lose you again.

But what felt like an eternity ended up being a millisecond because your Peter was suddenly at the edge of the building, grabbing your hand before you could begin your deathly descent. “Holy shit!” You gasped, falling to your knees when he placed you back on the ground. “Holy shit Peter, I owe you like a year’s worth of Joe’s!”

“Don’t mention it,” Peter hollered, already in another fight with Osborn. “I won’t say no to the pizza though!”

You pulled yourself up, shaking the glass shards off. May, you remembered with a jolt— you need to make sure she gets out alive. The burn in your legs caused you to grind your teeth together and run faster towards the staircase. You avoided Peter and the Goblin, taking two stairs at a time.

“May?!” You screamed, feeling the building shake intensely. So many stairs!

When you made your way to the ground floor, you realized you may have been a minute too late. The level was in ruins, smoke clouding the area as a fire spread from one end to the other. Chunks of cement turned the floor into a maze, and you tried your best to reach May.

Through the smoke, you could see the woman approaching something slowly. What was she doing?

The horrifying sight that met you on the other side of her gaze made you break out into a sprint. The Green Goblin stood above an injured Peter, squeezing his throat mercilessly. Bile rose as you listened to Peter’s desperate attempts to breathe. “This weakness, Peter,” the Green Goblin snarled. “It’s choking you.”

With a protective fire burning through her veins, May Parker swung her arm up into the air and plunged Norman’s cure into the Goblin’s neck. Freezing in shock, he fell backwards and let go of Peter.

Finally, you made it over to your best friend, falling to your knees beside him. Your shaky hands were aimless, hovering over all the boy’s injuries as if you didn’t even know where to start.

“May,” You began. “We need to get out of—”

Peter suddenly screamed with an energy that he didn’t know he still had. “RUN!”

BANG!

The Green Goblin’s glider sent May’s body flying to the other side of the room. Panicking, your lungs desperately searched for air.

The cure—it didn’t work.

You were next, landing on the ground painfully as Peter tried to save you both. Ignoring your wounded hands, you made a mad dash toward May. She’s not moving, you dreadfully realized.

You almost made it but then the next moments felt like a fever dream. A huge explosion sent you all flying back and into the rubble. At least that’s all you could recall as the impact left you severely disorientated.

An aching fatigue settled and you struggled to even move a finger. God, you were painfully reminded of how incredibly fragile your body was.

When you’re so immersed in the world of super-enhanced heroes and magical beings, it’s easy to forget that you could only handle as much as the average human.

The smoke was thicker than ever, sneaking into your lungs at an alarming rate. It was eerily silent.

“May?!” The broken sob of a boy who had lost everything was the first thing that penetrated the ringing in your ears. “May! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“MAY!”

may :,(((( </3

part four is up now!

i’m so sorry that this part barely contained tasm!peter x reader interaction but the separation was necessary. don’t worry it’ll definitely be worth it in the next part (a lot of angst, worried!peter and confessions coming soon)

i tried to write most of this from memory (i’ve only seen the film once so my apologies for any mistakes or inconsistencies)

taglist:

@joonsflowershop @idli-dosa @sarcasmismyonlydefense24 @aspicynugget @swaggysposts @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @saturnsgo @vanillacoffeeaddict @sloanna @munchyungwon @taina-eny @aleksanderwh0r3 @plutoneu @xoxoloverb @coolnessisoverrated @anakins-angel @qwertyblo @carmoocentral @infp-t-rhi @weirddominatrixpop @elizaphantandroses @book-fic-reader @kaaylvst @lizzieann143 @iceaesthiexs @lcvebuckybcrnes @elinedjarin @nerdgirl1004 @reveluvvs @steviebunny @tsukilover11 @absurdos @peanutbuttermoony @silverwindptv @poeandtheporgs @no-mercy-bby @vampgguk @jessyballet @stumbleonmywords @vibrant-berry @emistrash @di4na @ston3coldcrazy @shesbiochem4 @frankensteins-wh0re @wiggly-chromosomes

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jungkooks4evr · 3 years ago

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can’t you see? | jjk

— your heart aches. not because of all the crying you’ve been doing, but because all you want in life is for him to see himself the way you do.

— includes: nothing too serious, extreme fluff, crying, gender neutral

you unlock your phone, seeing your home screen. it’s a photo of you and jungkook holding each other and smiling at each other like you both are the only thing that matters. it was a monday night and your boyfriends' weverse magazine came out. you always loved to hear jungkooks thoughts and whats goes on in that head of his. whenever he opened up in interviews or with friends or even with he’s with you it always manages to make you smile, you knew that he struggled with explaining his thoughts.

you open the link from weverse and it sends you to safari, you’re immediately welcomed by your beautiful boyfriend. you tilt your head to the side a bit and a smile blossoms on your face, he looks amazing. jungkook is laying on the ground, the camera being to the side of him. his head is laying on the inner side of his wrist. his hair is short and black, the style being similar to a bowl cut. his eyes look glossy as always and his lips perfectly plump and red.

you screenshot the photo and then scroll down skimming the magazine. you see the interviewer asks about the boys’ single, butter, and how well it’s doing.

the interviewer is asking jungkook tons of question about the boys music, which makes you happy. they ask jungkook about dynamite, singing in english, permission to dance, and more.

your smile drops as you read a question that was asked to jungkook. “couldn’t you be a little softer on yourself?” to which jungkook replies, “no. i have to think about the future many times throughout the day. for example, sometimes i spend a whole day doing whatever, but whenever i do, i regret it severely… i think i need to improve, whether it’s my singing or my hobbies—more than now, better than now.”

you shut your eyes after reading jungkooks words. you don’t know what pains you more, the fact that you can hear jungkook saying that exact thing or that you know everything he said is true.

everyone around jungkook knew he overworked himself and was way too hard on himself. hell, you didn’t even have to be close to him to know that. you take a deep breath and decide to keep reading the article, hoping it gets better from here.

a question comes up about jungkooks impact on communities, and jungkooks response makes your heart warm. he was one of the kindest people you knew. despite being part of the biggest boy group jungkook always managed to stay so humble, helping whoever he can along his way.

you get towards the ending of the magazine. you’ve seen various questions asking about army, concerts, bts 2021 muster, and the question you always dread. “what kind of person do you think you are now?” you hated when interviewers asked jungkook about his worth, his potential, who he is as a person, etc because you already knew his answer.

jungkook answers the question, “i’m, a lazy person.” your eyes begin to tear. “you’re being very hard on yourself.” the interviewer replies. jungkook replies with a lengthy answer but only one part of his answer sticking out to you most. “i’m really lazy, and—oh, i overthink things sometimes. i think more than people might expect…”

for some reason, at those words, you can’t help but cry. your house is silent, and all that can be heard is your light sniffing. you can’t help but cry over this. your mind is repeating jungkooks words over and over. your mind is replaying the memories of jungkook coming home from practice barely being able to stand. your mind is replaying the memory of you having to beg jungkook to stay home instead of practice because he was too overworked or having to beg jungkook to eat a meal before his comeback.

you begin to break down, your position going from standing to sitting on your cold floor. you can’t hear anything other than yourself. your eyes being suffocated by your breaths and sobs and your mind running crazy over jungkook. you feel a mixture of sadness and anger. you’re so caught up in your own emotions you don’t hear the door unlock, it’s jungkook.

he walks in, not reading the room yet. he takes his jacket off and throws it on the couch, making his way to your shared bedroom. jungkook couldn’t wait to see you, he imagined you waiting on the bed watching some stupid youtube video. he imagined laying down next to you and feeling all the stress from the day go away. but instead, he’s welcomed by you mid-break down on the ground.

you suddenly feel a warm embrace and you jump at that, lightly pushing them off to see who it is. you’re able to see the face you love so dearly. your eyes are red and extremely puffy, warm tears running down your red cheeks. you look at jungkook, he looks so handsome. you grab his face with your hands, one hand on one cheek. your hands slip the back of his neck, lightly playing with the hair that you’re able to feel. your thumbs lightly trace over his cheeks.

“are you okay?” jungkook finally asks, nibbling at his lip through anxiousness. you don’t answer him, instead, you can over his face. you see all the features you love about him. his beautiful, beautiful doe eyes that are filled with so much love right now. his eyes filled with an overwhelming amount of love and worry. you’re met with one of his gorgeous birthmarks. jungkook has seven birthmarks on his face. one by the outer corner of his eye, one right underneath his lip, one right above his nostril, one on the upper bridge of his nose. two on his cheek, one being on the upper side of his cheek and one being on the lower. and his last one being placed beside his jawline. after connecting the dots with jungkooks birthmarks, your eyes make their way to his lips. his gorgeous plump lips, your thumb lightly grazes over them.

jungkook backs up softly and says, “talk to me.” you meet his eyes and take a deep breath, not wanting to cry anymore while talking to him. “i wish you knew how perfect you are, kook. you constantly talk about how little you think you’re worth or how you’re not good at everything and you are, you’re so so good at everything you do. you leave me and thousands and thousands of people in awe after doing the simplest thing.” you need to take a second, you’re starting to cry again.

at this point, you don’t know why you’re crying. maybe it’s your love for jungkook. your love for jungkook has become so strong that you feel the things he does, seeing him hurt and stress over things that truly don’t matter only hurts you.

jungkook grabs the outside of your hand, not wanting your hand to drop from his face. you continue with what you were saying, “can’t you see that you mean so much to people? me, army, the boys, your family, the list goes on and on jungkook.” jungkooks eyes begin to water. you and jungkook didn’t talk about things like this. whenever you guys do, someone ends up yelling or crying.

“i don’t get how you can look at all the things you do and be unsatisfied with yourself. if only you can see yourself through my eyes.” you close your eyes and bring your forehead to jungkooks, shaking your head softly. “i’d do anything to change the way you think of yourself,” you say while pulling back a little and kissing his lips, “anything.” you finish off.

jungkook isn’t sure what to say. he can see your pain, how much this genuinely hurts you. he does nothing but brings you closer, closer than before. he holds you tighter than ever, his embrace telling you that he hears you and that he’ll try.

#bts fanfic #fanfic #bts x reader #bangtan #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #jungkook #kpop #kpop fanfic #bts jungkook #kookie #fanfiction #gender neutral fanfic

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stylesnews · 4 years ago

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Ben and Gabe Turner directed the videos for Harry Styles’ singles Golden and Treat People With Kindness, and the Fulwell 73 partners have opened up to Music Week about working on the blockbuster Fine Line campaign.

The video for Treat People With Kindness (TPWK) stars Fleabag creator Phoebe Waller-Bridge and was released on New Year’s Day 2021, more than a year after Fine Line came out. The Turner brothers were also behind the film for Golden, which dropped in October. TPWK has 18,019,468 views on YouTube, while Golden, which was filmed under Covid restrictions on Italy’s Amalfi coast last year when lockdowns eased, has racked up 81,373,613.

Ben and Gabe Turner have been working with former Music Week cover star Styles since One Direction emerged on The X Factor, making videos for Steal My Girl and Drag Me Down. Their Fulwell 73 partner Ben Winston has also worked extensively with the group.

The brothers told Music Week that their longstanding relationship with Styles leads to an easy working environment, and the idea behind the TPWK video – which features Styles and Waller-Bridge doing a choreographed dance routine and was filmed at East London’s Troxy early in 2020 – came about after Styles saw the actor’s Fleabag live show.

“It was always supposed to be the last thing on the album run as an ending beat, and the album did so well that it just carried on,” said Gabe Turner. “We just didn’t know when [it would drop]. New Year’s Day 2021 was the perfect release date for us in the end.”

The duo make documentaries, TV shows, music videos, promos and more and Ben Turner said that “hope, warmth, fun and emotional honesty” define their work, which includes 2019 documentary Hitsville: The Making Of Motown.

“Music videos are fun, they’re the most impressionistic of the things we do,” said Ben Turner. “When else are we going to shoot a black and white dance video? There probably isn’t another avenue for us to do that.”

Here, the brothers look back on shooting Golden and TPWK with Styles and his team, talk Fine Line and trace the history of their work with the singer.

What are your reflections on the Treat People With Kindness video now it’s out?

Gabe Turner: “There’s a tendency when you’re working and going from job to job, not to sit back and enjoy something when it comes out, because you’re in the middle of something else. This was really enjoyable, a piece of work that’s really expansive, joyous and has loads of people dancing and reminds you of a time where life was really fun felt really nice. Harry and all of One Direction have incredible fans and they obviously amplify your work and make it bigger and feel like more of an achievement, which is really nice because you’re like, ‘The whole world is talking about it’ [laughs]. When really, the whole world is talking about Harry, or the boys, but it feels very special to be a part of that.”

What do you like most about the video?

Ben Turner: “It was just an amazing opportunity to work on a song we loved with some people we loved. We’d never worked with Phoebe before, so that was really exciting. It just feels so different now because we’ve been stuck indoors for a year. This thing about treating people with kindness, it just feels more prescient even than it did then. It feels like a really important message. The world has changed since we made it, the video has stayed the same but the world has disappeared.”

Have the videos have been extra important to the campaign with touring postponed?

GT: Harry’s got an incredible team, his manager Jeff Azoff, Tommy Bruce, Molly Hawkins and Rob Stringer and the label, they’re just brilliant. They’ve been really impressive in how they view and plan stuff. The videos kind of replaced him touring, so they had to have an impact. His fanbase wanted something to feel positive about and joyous about. We just feel hugely privileged that we were able to collaborate on two of the songs. We love the album, it’s a real quality piece of work. With Harry, because the camera loves him so much, you really want to raise your game and make something really special because you’ve got such an incredible protagonist. And then with Phoebe involved too, me and Ben thought this might be the best it ever gets for us behind camera – two people completely in their prime. The last time Phoebe was photographed in a public place she was clutching three Emmys. And Harry, he’s getting bigger and bigger and is such a joyous presence to be around. Those two massive stars together, learning a dance routine, doing something they’d not done before, it felt like we were witnessing something really special and it just makes you want to shoot the best video you possibly can.”

How did you end up doing two videos for the record?

GT: “We see Harry outside of work, so we talk about things all the time in a slightly different way. The TPWK conversation came from meeting Phoebe and saying, ‘Wouldn’t it be great if you two danced together?’ Then after we did that, when Golden came up, there was a feeling that we could do something together in a similar vein.”

BT: “Golden came about as organically as TPWK. We all sit around mooching with our mates saying, ‘Wouldn’t it be great if this or that…’ When you’re mooching with your mates and it’s Harry or Phoebe, those ideas can become. And that’s how these videos really came about. Golden feels like a driving song. The initial idea was Harry driving around LA with different people getting in and out of the car, people who were significant to the album or his life. That came off the table with Covid, but it was the idea we fell in love with. The world changed and he couldn’t tour, so they wanted to make more videos. We couldn’t make that original version, but the thing of movement came out of it. When someone you feel close to does something you rate as highly as I rate Fine Line you feel lucky. When you’re listening to that kind of music you get ideas. We’ve been in the position where you’re racking your brains for the right idea, and that can also lead to brilliant work, but this album in particular, I’d listen to it, walk along and think about it, before pitching anything.”

Harry’s vision for the album was so strong, what was that like to work with?

GT: “You just don’t want to drop the ball for him. It’s so important and the album’s so good, plus we’re fans of his as well as contemporaries. When he drafts you in to work on a video, you’re like, ‘OK, I just want to make sure you’re happy with it, if you are then it’s job done’.

BT: “There’s just so much there to work with. There’s so much in there. Why does TPWK work? What’s it really got to do with anything? Except somehow it does. There’s so much in that song and the feel of it that a slightly weird, leftfield idea makes perfect sense. I think that’s to do with how deep his creative thought and well of feeling [are], that allows it to go off. Not just our videos, but the ones everyone else made for the album, they’re widely varied but they work together. That’s got to be down to him, he’s the common thread. His creative team, too. They’re great sounding boards to work with, a guiding hand. It sounds like this massive love-in, but it really has been a very enjoyable, rewarding process.”

What was it like on set?

GT: “Harry doesn’t go off set. He does his bits and then when other stuff is going on he’s sitting next to you watching the monitor. He’s very, very involved in everything and he’ll push himself. At the end of TPWK he wanted to do a couple more takes at the end to make sure they’d nailed it. We said, ‘We think you’ve got it’, but he just said, ‘Let me go again a couple of times, I want to make sure it’s done to the best of my ability’. He works really hard, he’s great to collaborate with and he doesn’t let up. If it’s not good enough, he’ll carry on going.”

BT: “You’ve got a sense that it’s his video and he wants it to be the best. He takes ownership. He knows it’s his video and that how good and engaged he is will affect how good the product is. The length of the relationship we’ve had with him allows a kind of shorthand and a way of working to maximise that.”

GT: “He works to a really high standard but he’s unbelievably kind to literally everyone, all the time. Even if he’s under pressure, he never drops his standards of the right way to behave and being kind to people. It’s so impressive to work with someone like that. He’s never not a good bloke about whatever it is that he faces. You watch the way he is with the runners, producers, sound people, whoever… He’s treating them with so much love and respect that everyone works as hard as they possibly can to make his vision come true because he’s so joyful to be around. It does sound like a love-in, but that’s the most defining factor – he’s so talented and so nice about it.”

What do these videos say about where you are at right now as directors?

GT: “Our thinking is always about how we can be creative. We don’t really think about the space we’re going into as much as what the idea is. If you only do one thing it sometimes stilts your creativity because you get into a pattern, whereas if you’re constantly jumping between mediums it keeps you fresh. We like to be involved in lots of stuff. We try and surround ourselves with people like Harry, who operate in that way. Ben and I just try and push each other into trying to do the best we can. We feel massively lucky we get to work together, we’re brothers, best friends, it’s a dream.”

#harry styles #jan21 #gabe turner #ben turner #tpwkmv #goldenmv #music week #article

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 4 years ago

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I’m Always Curious Part Twenty Seven

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist Notes: I hope everyone’s having a good week 💕

Sooo..... How are we doing................ Also for this week, new character incoming, the person I was picturing when I wrote Eli Durling is Michael Ealy, in case y’all want someone to picture

Warnings: ….Angst again I know my bad again

Also cursing and mentions of canon-typical violence Summary: I took the hands that were offered to me in introduction and did my damnedest to keep contact.

“Jett Reno, engineering.” Engineering, how was it I always wound up rooming with someone from engineering?

The problem was, with my separation from the Enterprise and the wounds of Somonia still fresh, I found myself desperate for connection where my life had been voided of it.

Jett, Tilly-- I took the hands that were offered to me in introduction and did my damnedest to keep contact.

-- “What brought you to Starfleet?” I could tell by the strained way Jett was asking that she didn’t do small talk for fun the way Tilly did. I’d been on the Hiawatha for a couple of days and we’d hardly talked when we’d been in our quarters together. Neither of us had pushed to fill the silence. But now, Jett was making the effort to… Chat. Maybe it was an attempt to stop my harried pacing in the cramped craft, but I could hardly keep still. My first official mission was set to begin in just a few minutes-- I was piloting a new federation attack fighter with an experimental cloaking device into Klingon airspace for the purposes of picking up subspace chatter. The Hiawatha would be in range as it ferried the first few war-wounded to Starbase 515. As soon as I collected what transmissions I could, I was to return to the ship, and then we’d jump to maximum warp -- barring any complications. “... My dad was an attaché to the Federation when I was growing up. I was brought to a lot of planets when he had custody. And when I was home there were a lot of different languages around me. I was just... curious.” Jett grunted. “What about you?” I asked. “I was always taking shit apart when I was a kid,” Jett leaned away from the control panel, “I had a teacher at school that steered me to circuit analysis. Kicked off from there.” She pulled off her gloves, turning back to me. “Good thing she jumped in when she did, I was electrocuting myself like, once a week. My mom was a doctor, said electrocuting yourself is frowned upon.” I smiled a little bit, “You know, I’ve heard that.” “Apparently everyone but me had.” “When you joined Starfleet...You ever think you’d be doing something like this?” “Helping a language nerd fly into enemy space? Can’t say it was in my top five. Did you think you’d be a pilot?” I shook my head, shoving my hands into my pockets, “No. I always liked flight sims, but steering was the furthest thing from my mind. I had this...Grand idea of going to new planets, building bridges between cultures… Not getting my ass bounced from ship to ship to ship and keeping my head down in the hopes I don’t wind up on Admiral Cornwell’s bad side…” I sighed, shrugging, “But we put our dreams away.” Jett’s brows were furrowed, and I could see the question she wanted to ask, but instead asked: “You got a plan after this?” “After the mission?” “After the war.” I was quiet for a moment, turning to survey the control panel. “... I think I’d rather focus on what I’m gonna do after the mission, not get too far ahead of myself.” Jett pursed her lips, nodding a little bit, looking around. “You oughta get off of this vessel if you don’t wanna join me for its maiden voyage,” I warned. Jett grunted, picking up her toolkit and heading for the ramp. “Try not to get blown up out there,” She said over her shoulder, “I did good work on this ship.” “I’ll do my damnedest,” I called back.

It became routine for Jett and I to chat before missions - occasionally making plans for what we would do once I got back. My missions tended to vacillate between two types: either a transmission intercept, or a mission type that protocol labeled a 22-9-14. 22-9-14 operations consisted of approaching a Klingon craft, deploying a tracking and transmission device, and piloting the hell out of there before any Warbirds could catch wise. It didn’t always work of course -- which was why Eli and I started calling 22-9-14s ‘Tag and Runs’. Lieutenant Commander Eli Durling was a security officer stationed on the Hiawatha for the purpose of handling Communications-based missions. I’d known of him while I was at the Academy. He had been a couple of years ahead of me, and we had a few mutual friends, but as we'd been focused in different course tracks, I'd never had occasion to really interact with him until now. He’d graduated top of his class, and had been stationed on a ship in the Mempa sector until the war had broken out.

Durling reminded me of Pike, a little. When he wasn’t focused on the mission at hand, he was fairly easygoing, lighthearted, and made it a point to follow orders - when those orders were the right course of action in a given situation. Eli wasn’t above changing course mid-mission when something took a bad turn, and he wasn’t afraid to go to bat for me with command for doing the same, either. He covered my back, and I covered his.

“You should see the job Durling did to his phaser canons,” Jett half-yelled, half-grumbled from under the control panel. I eyed where her legs were in view, just beside my pilot’s seat. “Something tells me the job was done by a Klingon Warbird and not by Eli himself.” “Well if he hadn’t gotten spotted by a Warbird, they wouldn’t have chased him, fired at him, and fucked up his phaser canons.” “...You might have a point there.” “I’m wounded, lieutenant,” I heard from just behind me, and I turned to see Eli ducking his head to step onto the craft. “I really hope you mean emotionally," I teased. Eli’s lips twitched into a smile, and I returned it. It was moments like this that his attractiveness was...Really not lost on me. He was handsome, with golden, copper brown skin and gentle blue eyes. His smile, which was turned at me now, was typically kind -- a kind smile that could turn flirtatious or teasing at the drop of a hat. “I’m broken up inside,” Eli reassured me. “Mm, mhm,” I nodded, “What’s going on?” “I’ve got some news.” “Is it that you learned how to fix your phaser canons yourself?” Jett asked, sitting up from under the console. “Sadly, no.” “Sadly? That’s not sadly no, that’s morbidly depressingly no,” Jett grumbled as she took my hand to help her up, “You have any idea how long it’s gonna take me to fix those when you inevitably fuck them up again?” “Well, not long at all. The lieutenant and I are being transferred.” Jett and I let that sink in in silence as the three of us stood in silence. It felt like a punch - but Reno recovered faster than I did. “...Well, godspeed to whoever takes you over, Durling. You’re an engineer’s worst nightmare.”

“I’ll miss you, too, Reno,” Eli chuckled before turning to me, “We’ll be shipping out once you get back, as long as everything is status quo.” “Got it.” “Be careful out there.” “Yessir.”

I watched Eli go before I lowered my eyes, making a careful study of my shoes. I’d been on the Hiawatha for two months now. It was only just starting to feel… Not like the Enterprise, but like a safe space again. “Well,” I said after a moment, “Least you’ll be getting your room back to yourself.” “Looks like it,” Jett agreed, “Don’t get all mushy on me, huh?” I shook my head, pushing back my upset and flattening my expression before meeting her eye: “I was about to ask the same of you.” Jett nodded. “Would’ve been nice if we could’ve seen this through together.” “Would’ve,” I agreed quietly. “But we put our dreams away,” Jett reached out, slapping me on the shoulder before picking up her toolkit, “Don’t get blown up at the last minute. It would be a hell of an anti-climax.”

I scrolled through the contacts on my PADD stilling over Sidhu, Thira for a moment. The little status bubble beside her name read ‘Active’. Despite the fact that Eli and I were stationed together on the USS Pinnacle, and had been for months, I was antsy for news of the Enterprise. I’d reached out to Cornwell for an update on the crew, but I had yet to get an answer from her. I couldn’t blame her. She was entrenched in strategy, but I was desperate for news -- especially after the news of the Hiawatha’s loss had reached us nearly a week after Eli and I had been re-stationed.

I scrolled further down on the contacts list, tapping on the contact name for Tilly, Sylvia. I eyed the ‘Active’ bubble beside her name before tapping on the small video icon. I lifted the PADD up to my face, grinning when Tilly came into view. “Hi!” She greeted, waving. “Hey there. How are you?” I asked, shifting back on my bed. “Oh…” I watched Tilly glance at her surroundings before she answered, “Lorca’s on the warpath.” “The literal warpath or the metaphorical one?” Tilly laughed before sighing, “Both.” I winched, “Sorry, Tills.” “It’s not all awful,” She shrugged, “I have a roommate again, actually. Michael Burnham.” My brows rose. I knew of Michael Burnham - her name was splashed across briefings in relation to the war and the Battle of the Binary Stars. But I’d known of her, first and foremost, through Spock. He’d never spoken of her in honeyed tones, mind, but I knew that he regarded her highly. What was all of this doing to Spock? I couldn’t imagine him having to reason himself through this with limited intel from the Federation at such a distance-- “Hello? Hel-- Hello? Did I cut out? Am I frozen? Are you frozen?” I was jolted from my reverie at Tilly’s waterfall of questions. “I’m sorry,” I smiled, “Got distracted-- How’s the roomie situation?” “Well she frowned about as much as you did when you got on board.” “I warmed up.” “So did she,” Tilly smiled, and I relaxed a little, folding my legs up under myself. “Glad to hear it.” I looked away from my PADD as the doors to my room opened. “Hey, Eli,” I greeted. I saw Tilly’s eyes widen, and I glanced down to see her smoothing her hair down hurriedly. “Eli, you remember Tilly,” I added as he crossed to my bed - I’d introduced them on a previous call. “Course I do,” He smiled, sitting down beside me and giving the screen a wave, “Nice to see you again, Sylvia.” I grinned as a flush as red as her hair well up on Tilly’s cheeks. “Hi,” She answered, matching Eli’s wave. Her gaze was directed away from the screen as an announcement that I couldn’t make out crackled on her end. “Ahh-- I have to go,” She said hurriedly, turning back to the screen, “I’m sorry!” “No, don’t worry about it,” I shook my head, “Be careful.” “You guys, too!” Tilly chirped before hanging up. I looked down at the screen as it winked off. I eyed the contact for Sidhu, Thira, one more time before swiping away from my contacts. Eli leaned back against the wall, shifting further back on my bed. “If you put your shoes on my bed, Durling--” “I know the rules, kid,” He chuckled. I rolled my eyes. He’d taken to calling me that weeks ago, and I couldn't get him to shake it. “What’s got you in here, anyway?” I asked, “New mission?” “Can’t sleep.” I frowned, glancing over at Eli before I turned back to my messages. I had a new message, but where the hell was it? It wasn’t from Cornwell, I’d already checked. “Something wrong?” I pressed. “Just one of those nights. Ever have one?” “Oh, all the--” I froze, damn near dropping my PADD at the sight of the unopened message. It was recent - minutes old. And it was from Una. “...You okay, kid?” Eli’s knee nudged mine, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the words ‘You’re on the Pinnacle?’.

“I-- I um… Yes. I have those nights all the time. Think I’m gonna have another one of those nights tonight.” Eli crowded closer, peering over my shoulder. “Bad news?” “I don’t know yet… Can you gimme a minute?”

It had started with Paledore, apparently. He’d been looking for something I’d sent him a while ago, some verb conjugation that I'd worked on, and he’d noticed that my status was active. He’d figured that it had to be a fluke, and he’d gone about his business. But it had happened again and again, and he’d brought it up to Thaleh, who had brought it up to Spock. Spock had done some digging, located me in Starfleet's medical database at the Academy, and then in the ship’s records for the Pinnacle. He had brought that information to Una. Una, who was now staring at me through a video feed. Her face was carefully blank. I’d seen that look before -- I knew that she was making a concentrated effort to not give anything away. Una could be hard to read in the first place, but I may as well have been looking at a statue. My heart was thudding low in my chest, beating out a panicked, jittery tattoo that usually only accompanied the running of a 22-9-14 and a Klingon Warbird on my tail. “...So,” I started, “How’s the Pergamum?” “You’re alive.” I gave a small nod. “Yeah, they’re not trucking a corpse around on the Pinnacle for the sake of filling the new communications specialist minimum.” “You’ve been alive this entire time and you’re making jokes?” Una seethed. It chilled me through the screen and I lowered my eyes, swallowing thickly. “I know you’re upset--” “Upset?” She repeated with a scorning little laugh, “I have spent the last year watching the repercussions that your loss has had on this crew, on Pike-- and you’re making jokes.” Guilt spun through me and wobbled like a top. “Can I explain?” “I wish you would.”

I took a deep breath, steadying my nerves before I told Una what had happened - all I could remember. Soivo, Somonia, Cornwell, my time on the Discovery and the Hiawatha. Una’s face remained unmoved throughout. My only indication that the screen hadn’t frozen was Una’s occasional shift in her seat. Once I’d finished my explanation, Una gave a small nod. “Well… That certainly lines up with the timeline that Spock put together.” I couldn’t help but smile a little at that, even as I ached at the mention. “Of course he put a timeline together,” I muttered, scrubbing my hand over my eyes. I sighed, quiet for a few moments. “How are you all?” I asked, “Will you tell me that?” “You don’t deserve that answer.” I clenched my jaw, hot tears prickling at my eyes as I felt my entire being want to fold in on itself. “Una, please understand--” The video feed cut, the message on the screen indicating that the call had been terminated from Una’s side. My fingers curled around the device, my chest racking with sobs as I curled forward.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I heard behind me, “What did that punching bag say to you?” I raised my hands to stop the bag from swinging back and hitting me before I turned back to see Eli. After Una’s abrupt end to our call, I had cried until I couldn’t anymore - until my sobs had been dry and my breathing had been hiccups. And then, when the hurt had still ebbed through me, when I saw that there were no transmissions waiting for translation or missions for me to run, I went to work the rest of my hurt out on a punching bag. “I’m not in the mood, Durling,” I cautioned quietly. My voice was hoarse from its rough use earlier, and my body and nerves were rung raw from the war, from losing Jett -- from my call with Una, and from the news that had hard followed - the Discovery had been destroyed. My last call with Tilly had been our last call. Eli took a couple of cautious steps closer to me, looking me over. “I can see that. Came to offer my assistance.” I arched a brow. “Assistance?” I repeated, “The bag over here offered the same thing and look where it’s wound up.” Eli smiled a little. “You’re gonna run yourself ragged like this,” he warned. I shook my head a bit, biting the inside of my cheek to staunch a fresh wave of tears. “I already have, Eli, I can’t--” I took in a deep, shuddering breath, “I can’t rest my head right now. That’s just a fact.” “Neither can I. Maybe we can help each other out with that.” “I’m not gonna ask you to help me.” “Why not?” “You see the mood I’m in?” I nodded toward the bag, “At least one of us needs to be in a condition to fly.” “I think I can handle you.” I arched a brow. “Eli,” I warned softly. He took a step closer, warm blue eyes and kind smile pointed at me with all softness and sincerity. “Kid,” he murmured, “You don’t have to worry about being gentle with me.” Tag list: @angels-pie ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo ; @how-am-i-serpose-to-know ; @onlyhereforthefandomandgiggles ; @inmyowncorner ; @tardis-23 ; @2manyfandoms-solittletime ; @paintballkid711 ; @katrynec ; @hypnobananaangelfish

#I'm Always Curious #captain pike x reader #Captain Pike/Reader #Captain Pike Imagine #Captain Pike x You #Captain Pike/You #christopher pike x reader #christopher pike/reader #Christopher Pike x You #christopher pike imagine #Christopher Pike/You

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hlupdate · 4 years ago

Link

Here, the brothers look back on shooting Golden and TPWK with Styles and his team, talk Fine Line and trace the history of their work with the singer…

What are your reflections on the Treat People With Kindness video now it’s out?

What do you like most about the video?

Have the videos have been extra important to the campaign with touring postponed?

GT: Harry’s got an incredible team, his manager Jeff Azoff, Tommy Bruce, Molly Hawkins and Rob Stringerand the label, they’re just brilliant. They’ve been really impressive in how they view and plan stuff. The videos kind of replaced him touring, so they had to have an impact. His fanbase wanted something to feel positive about and joyous about. We just feel hugely privileged that we were able to collaborate on two of the songs. We love the album, it’s a real quality piece of work. With Harry, because the camera loves him so much, you really want to raise your game and make something really special because you’ve got such an incredible protagonist. And then with Phoebe involved too, me and Ben thought this might be the best it ever gets for us behind camera – two people completely in their prime. The last time Phoebe was photographed in a public place she was clutching three Emmys. And Harry, he’s getting bigger and bigger and is such a joyous presence to be around. Those two massive stars together, learning a dance routine, doing something they’d not done before, it felt like we were witnessing something really special and it just makes you want to shoot the best video you possibly can.”

How did you end up doing two videos for the record?

Harry’s vision for the album was so strong, what was that like to work with?

What was it like on set?

What do these videos say about where you are at right now as directors?

#harry styles #articles #150121

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scullysexual · 4 years ago

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Passageways

What if, rather than somebody from the future going to the past, somebody from the past fell through to the future?

Also on ao3

@today-in-fic @mypanicface

- - -

CHAPTER 1: Not In DC Anymore.

Cases had become few and far between. With his latest case denied, Mulder had spent more time in his office then he cared to admit. Alternating between calls with The Lone Gunmen and watching his videos, every morning he wondered what the point of going to work was anymore.

Mulder is just about ready to call it a day, to pack up his things and take the rest of the day off when something is slipped beneath the office door. Upon further inspection he discovers it’s a newspaper, dated today. He unlocks the door to peer out, first left towards the back wall then right towards the elevator. Whoever dropped this off is long gone. He shuts and locks the door again, wandering back over to his chair. Whoever dropped this off did so for a reason.

He unfolds it and on the front page is a photograph of a woman flinching away as the picture is taken, the headline reading:

ALIENS? OR SOMETHING MORE SINISTER?

Mulder regards it, frowning as he wonders why this was sent to him. He’s about to throw it in the trash when his fingers slide against another piece of paper. Flipping the newspaper over, a yellow sticky note is taped to the back of it.

So which one is it, Mr Mulder? it reads in red pen.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

The news article herald incredible details, one of those being which hospital this woman was staying at. With a flash of his badge he is led down a corridor to a room which Mulder determines is where they’ve placed her. At the end of the corridor, through countless doors, he imagines the reporter who took that photo had sneaked in and the staff hadn’t wanted that to happen again.

He was still confused as to why a source would send him that paper, send him here. Other than having “alien” in the headline, nothing seemed particularly supernatural about it. Chances are the woman was probably kidnapped at some point.

“Thank you,” Mulder says to the nurse as she opens the door for him.

His victim stares out of the window, her faced turned away from him. She’s thin, looking almost malnourished. How she managed to escape is a mystery but Mulder supposes the body would do anything in any state in order to survive.

“She hasn’t said a word since arriving here,” the nurse tells him.

“She probably doesn’t know where she is,” Mulder says. “She’s probably just scared.” Common with kidnap victims. How long has she been away for? Mulder guesses it’s his job to find that out.

“You should know one other thing,” the nurse says walking over to a small table near the corner of the room. “She was found wearing this.” Mulder follows the nurse and for the first time sees a pile of clothing folded on the table only upon further examination he realises that one of the items of clothing looks to be a corset. He reaches out to touch it, feeling the cloth and bone beneath his fingers.

“Have it bagged,” he says pulling his fingers away. He’ll find out the meaning of the clothes later.

The nurse nods and exits, leaving Mulder and the woman alone.

And she’s still yet to turn away from the window.

Mulder approaches, slowly and cautiously so as not to startle her.

“Hi,” he greets. He watches as her fingers play with each other, the slow turn of her head as she doesn’t quite look towards him but enough for him to know she’s listening.

“I’m Agent Mulder, with the FBI,” he holds out his badge but she still doesn’t look at it. Sighing, Mulder stuffs it back in his pocket. “I’m here tp help you. Your name is a good place to start with that.”

The woman turns her head a bit more, her blue eyes making contact with his hazel ones but other than that she makes no move to speak.

With another idea entering his mind, Mulder reaches back into his pocket and pulls out a notebook and pen.

“Or you could write it down if that’s what you would prefer.” He holds the pen and pad out and surprisingly she takes it from him. Mulder waits and watches as she stares too long at the pen before her thumb climbs up the side and clicks the top. There’s a small gasp but soon enough she is scribbling her name down on the paper and it’s a start if nothing else.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Grass is beneath her and the sky still spins.

There are noises in the distance and her head hurts.

Dana sits up not knowing entirely what just happened. One moment she was standing, about to walk forward, and next she’s laying on the ground.

She surveys her surroundings, most of it looks to be the same; the bridge behind her, the trees and hills. Nothing seems amiss.

Dana stands, brushes the bits of grass off her skirt and wanders forward. She should probably get back to Ethan, it’ll be dark soon and the forest isn’t the place she wants to find herself on her own.

But as she ventures through the trees, none of it looks familiar. There’s the worrying sense that she’s lost and that noise around her seems to be getting closer.

There’s a gap in the trees and from the looks of it, it appears to Dana that that’s where the forest ends. She makes a beeline for it. If she gets herself out of the woods, she might be able to get her bearings straight.

She hurries towards it, pushing herself through the gap and out onto the path when a loud horn blares. Dana turns towards the sound only to be met with a peculiar looking wagon coming towards her. Instinct of sort forces her back as the wagon speeds past her, leaving a wind of dust in its wake.

Her heart hammering against her chest, Dana’s eyes search beyond the hill and what she’s met with has her blood running cold and her throat growing dry.

Before her is an array of tall buildings- buildings that weren’t there before.

The noises around her has her eyeline being pulled away to a spot below her where more peculiar looking wagons wait in a line.

Her rational mind tries to reconcile it. She is sure she is in Washington DC; the bridge, the trees, the hills…She looks back assuring herself that what remained behind her was what she had just walked through, and it was, so why wasn’t this?

“Are you okay, ma’am?”

Dana turns towards the person. Her eyes widen as she takes in his unfamiliar attire and the wagon-that’s-not-wagon stationed behind him.

And it’s all too much for her rational mind to comprehend, her eyesight goes leaving only darkness.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

It’s so noisy here.

Every loud sound from outside having her jumping. This infirmary was unlike one she’d ever seen before. The people dressed strangely and that man with that…thing that flashed.

They had moved her after that, took her to another room. All Dana wanted was to go home, or wake up and pretend this was all a nightmare.

Most of all, she just wanted to get back to Ethan.

“Or you could write it down if that’s what you would prefer.”

This other man holds out paper and a steel-looking pencil. She takes hold of both and stares at the steel pencil for a moment wondering just what she is meant to do with it, there’s no end. She spies a ball near the top and has some inexplainable urge to click it and so she does and gasps when the end appears.

Interesting…

And in her perfect script writes her name.

Dana Scully.

#txf #time travel au #historical au...kind of #back at it with my original concepts #i think #i write

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riotwritesthings · 5 years ago

Note

Oh pls pls PLS write #17 (trusting each other) for stony where Steve and Tony learn to trust each other after all their bad relationships in the past!

(Hello remember this prompt?! Sorry this took so dang long, I could not decide what I wanted to do for this prompt, finally settled on this. I hope you like it!!)

SteveTony, vague non-powered AU, 1.6k

"Everyone built the new exhibit up like it's the greatest thing in the world, but his old work was so much better, and..." Steve trails off, biting his lip, and when he glances up he’s a little surprised to find Tony watching him expectantly.

"Why was it better?" Tony asks, and he still has his tablet in his hands but the screen has gone dark. Tony’s attention is entirely focused on Steve, like he really wants to know Steve’s opinion on modern art, like he’s not thinking of telling Steve to just shut up and look pretty.

It takes a long couple seconds for Steve to get enough breath to actually say anything. “So, with the older stuff-“ He starts off hesitantly, but Tony smiles encouragingly, sets his tablet down on the couch beside him, and before he knows it Steve is ranting, hands waving.

Tony keeps listening happily until Steve’s has talked himself out, then lets Steve curl around him, put his head in Tony’s lap like he doesn’t have two feet and a couple dozen pounds on Tony. He just runs his fingers through Steve’s hair, wiggles the tablet out from under Steve’s shoulder and starts complaining about a problem he’s having with his code.

There’s a new photo in the tabloids, Steve smiling at a woman as he holds open the door for her, leaving the Met. Tony grins as he looks at it, because he loves seeing Steve so happy, so excited about something, and Tony can’t wait to hear all about it.

Tony looks up excitedly as the elevator doors slide open with a chime, Steve’s precious dumb smiling face coming into view. “How dare you smile at your agent, you hussy,” Tony cries, throwing the magazine across the room.

Steve laughs as it slaps him in the chest, picking it up to see the photo as he shakes his head sadly and says “I don’t know what my problem is.”

He looks back up at Tony with big sorrowful eyes, but Tony is already tired of this game, already across the room and throwing his arms around Steve’s shoulders to pull him into a kiss. It didn’t take long to figure out that the very idea of Steve cheating on him is laughable.

“So, don’t leave me waiting,” Tony says when they pull away from the kiss, smiling at the feeling of Steve’s strong arms wrapped oh so gently around his waist, “what’s got you so smiley?”

Steve’s face lights up again, smile taking over and before he knows it Tony is being spun in place, laughing and batting at Steve’s shoulders. “You’re never going to guess, it’s the best thing ever,” Steve says happily, completely ignoring Tony’s protests, and continues spinning in place as he tells Tony all about his new exhibit.

Tony’s stomach is in knots as he rides the elevator up to his penthouse. Steve has been waiting for him for hours at this point, if he’s even still there. Tony really won’t be surprised if Steve is long gone by now, but there’s a small part of him that’s still hoping.

When the doors slide open Tony is greeted by the sight of the lights still on and Steve sitting on the couch, one of his dumb non-digital books in his hands. Tony doesn’t even care if he gets yelled at now, he’s just so happy Steve is here.

“Hey,” Steve says, and the relieved smile on his face is so far from what Tony expected that for a second he forgets to breathe. Steve is oblivious, still smiling big and goofy as he crosses the room and wraps his arms around Tony. “Ugh, I was so worried,” Steve mutters into Tony’s neck, huge hands dragging up and down Tony’s back.

“I know I should have called,” Tony says, returning the hug a little hesitantly because he’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop, “my phone died, and-“

Steve shushes him, lifting his head to pull Tony into a kiss that has him blinking in confusion. When Steve pulls away he rests their foreheads together with a happy sigh, and then says “it’s fine, Tony. I was just worried.” His smile is a little shy as he says “not like you to go radio silent, that’s all.”

“I wanted to call you,” Tony says without moving away, soft and sheepish. A little part of him still can’t believe that no one is screaming yet, that there are no wild accusations flying around. No demands to know where Tony’s been, who he’s been with, nothing. Just a relieved smile on Steve’s face like he’s been picturing Tony dead in a ditch ass opposed to the usual assumption of naked in someone else’s bed.

“Mm, I’m just happy you finally escaped your day of endless meetings,” Steve says, dropping sweet little kisses over Tony’s cheeks, across the bridge of his nose. He cups Tony’s face in his hands, fixes him with an incredibly serious look, and adds “I did order a pizza, but I ate the whole thing already.”

“It’s like you don’t love me at all!” Tony squawks, shoving weakly at his stomach while Steve just laughs and wraps around him tighter.

“Hey honey, can you do me a huge favor?” Tony asks as soon as Steve answers the phone, and he can hear how harried Tony is just by the sound of his voice.

“What do you need?” Steve asks instantly, already setting aside his sketch pad and climbing to his feet.

“Please tell you’re still lazing around on my couch where I left you,” Tony says and Steve looks around guiltily, because he definitely is. He just likes it at Tony’s place, likes how every inch of the lavish penthouse makes him think of Tony, likes that he can ask JARVIS for little updates on Tony’s day. Before Steve can actually say anything Tony caries on, like he knows exactly where Steve is, “I need you to go down to my lab and grab something that my dumbass forgot this morning. JARVIS knows where it is.”

“Yes, exactly where I tried to remind him it was this morning,” JARVIS chimes in to say and Steve fights down a laugh even as he shoots the ceiling a commiserating look.

”Are you two talking shit about me again?” Tony demands and Steve really does laugh as Tony rushes on to say “look scheme against me all you want as long as you bring me that prototype, okay, I have to start this video call like right now and I’m gonna stall as long as I can. Love you gotta go please save me bye.”

Steve just shakes his head fondly as the line goes dead, and then tucks his phone away as he says “he really is lost without Miss Potts around.”

“Completely,” JARVIS agrees instantly, and then directs Steve down a couple floors to Tony’s workshop.

The doors slide open for him and Steve carefully touches nothing as he makes his way to a worktable off the side, because knowing Tony literally any of this could explode at any second. With JARVIS’ help it’s not hard to find what he’s looking for, and when Steve creeps into his office Tony gives him a bright smile even as he continues speaking to whoever is on his computer screen. Steve makes sure he stays out of sight of the camera as he slides the prototype across Tony’s desk, then winks and blows him a kiss before sneaking back out of the room.

It’s only later, laying in Tony’s oversized bed, that Steve thinks back to something Tony had said when they first started dating. “So, I guess I should count myself lucky JARVIS didn’t lock me up for busting into your lab unsupervised,” Steve says, grinning a little and running his fingers through Tony’s surprisingly soft hair.

“Very lucky,” Tony says. His thumb is tapping against Steve’s chest in that way that means he’s debating his next words, and his voice is soft when he says “it’s probably because JARVIS likes you so much.”

“I’m sure that’s what it is,” Steve says, grinning wider.

Tony looks up when the elevator dings, and the doors aren’t even fully open before Steve is saying “okay, I can’t- how- look, can I rant at you for a second?”

Before Tony even has a chance to assure him that he absolutely can Steve is jumping right into it and Tony can only smile fondly at the furrow in Steve’s brow, the way his eyes seem extra bright when he’s worked up about something. Steve crosses the room in a couple long strides, and when Tony opens his arms Steve wastes no time collapsing down on top of him, burying his face in Tony’s neck and still talking as Tony drags his palms up and down Steve’s broad back.

Once Steve finally rants himself out about his latest commission he lifts his head, gives Tony an expectant look, so Tony laughs and switches to scratching his nails over Steve’s scalp as he complains about his own day and the board meeting he’d been forced to attend earlier.

Once they’ve both vented themselves out they stay exactly where they are, wrapped around each other on Tony’s oversized couch, perfectly happy just soaking up each other’s warmth as the sun sinks lower and the room turns a soft gold.

“You know you mean the world to me, right?” Tony asks, voice barely more than a breath and his lips brushing over Steve’s forehead with every word. He has a horrible feeling that is face is flushed as Steve lifts his head to look at him, but the soft smile on Steve’s face is more than worth it.

“I know,” Steve says, firm but just as quiet, like he’s never even considered doubting it.

#stevetony #stony #riot answers #prompt fic #superhusbands #magicengr

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coll2mitts · 4 years ago

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Super Mario Bros. (1993)

Thanks to the awesome people who donated to Extra Life (you still can, btw!) y'all will now be treated to a retrospective on the 1993 classic movie, Super Mario Bros. When I took on this milestone, the first (and only) person I messaged for ideas on terrible (but wonderful) films based on video games was my friend Max, who has a history of viewing and talking about bad movies. He suggested this, and while I was aware of this magnificent piece of cinema history, I had not had the pleasure of viewing it myself. He hooked me up with a copy, and to say this film lived up to my expectations would be an understatement.

I couldn’t help but be charmed by this movie. It is filled with so many questionable creative choices that were fucking ridiculous. Mario and Luigi not being blood related? Sure. Cheesy Italian accents replaced with a New York ones? Yeah, why not? Having all the enemies in Super Mario Bros. be canonically dinosaurs? I mean... It's a choice informed by the great media dino wave of 1993, but whatever. Yoshi is a dinosaur, if we want to extend that to goombas and Koopa for whatever reason, I'm down. Having these dinosaurs live underneath New York City in a parallel dimension? It's based on a video game, why the fuck not? Everything is so goddamn bonkers.

The opening credits roll, and we’re told that 65 million years ago, a meteor created said underground parallel universe dinosaur land. We witness a human-looking woman, who is really a dinosaur, leaving an egg baby on a church doorstep. Don’t think about it too hard, the logistics of a human giving birth to an egg that size are just... it’s gross to think about.

We’re then introduced to the titular characters, Mario Mario and Luigi Mario. Yes, their last names are Mario. Making them the Mario brothers. Because this movie is interested in answering the important questions. Mario is the owner of a failing plumbing business, while Luigi is a conspiracy theorist who would have really enjoyed modern-day YouTube.

While they’re out trying to find work, they run into Miss Amy March herself, Daisy, who is an archeologist in charge of digging up dinosaur bones from a New York City construction site. She’s being forced off the property by the mob, who apparently are annoyed that a blonde lady in cargo shorts is coming between them and whatever the fuck they’re building.

They try and intimidate her, she storms off to use a payphone to call for security, and is almost picked up by two inconspicuous bozos in a cab who apparently are stealing Brooklyn women off the street for no reason. Their plan is quickly thwarted by a random moving pane of glass.

Instead, Daisy runs right into Luigi, who forgets how to human once he sees her pretty face. He asks her on a date, where she reveals even more exposition. She believes the meteor that destroyed the dinosaurs landed in New York City. Oh, and also, she’s the abandoned egg baby. Luigi is also an orphan, and this shared trauma apparently gets them both hot and bothered. They wander off to the dig site, because an underground pit attached to a sewer is so romantic, and it is also where Daisy feels the most comfortable.

What if we made out at the bone pit?

Their touching moment is cut short when the mob sabotages the plumbing in the sewer and water starts flooding the area. They run to get Mario, because he is a plumber, to fix the pipes, which is so fucking clutch, I love it so much.

While the Mario brothers are distracted, Daisy is captured by the weirdo twins and dragged into the alternate dinosaur universe. Mario and Luigi follow, and we’re treated to the most fucking amazing transition scene of Bob Hoskins spinning wildly through colorful rocks.

youtube

Turns out, parallel dinosaur world, or Dinohattan, is fucking lit as hell. I am convinced that Futurama based their sewer city on this movie.

King Koopa, who is a dinosaur with badly bleached hair gelled back in an effort to look like Michael Douglas in Wall Street, has taken over Dinohattan. He is the one who asked the goons to kidnap Daisy, because of the tacky crystal necklace she wears. Apparently, it is a piece of the meteorite that crashed into earth, and once he puts the piece back into the original space rock, the dinosaur world will merge with the mammal world after 65 million years of his people being sequestered underground, and Koopa will have endless resources at his disposal. Also, Daisy is a princess, and her dad is a giant fungus taking over the city, so that’s totally normal and not at all weird.

Problem is, the two idiots he sent to grab her didn’t think to check if she was wearing the necklace. Turns out, Luigi has the necklace, or had the necklace, as they are quickly mugged by a granny, who is then robbed by a lady with a bright red spiky latex coat and springy robot feet. The brothers are then arrested by the dinocops and are grilled by Koopa for the whereabouts of the rock. When they play dumb he uh... reacts in a proportionate way.

I am not even going to attempt to explain the devo process... It is a combination of insane and fucking disgusting. Whoever in the costuming department looked at the cute fucking mushroom Goombas in the video game and decided to translate them into this scaly, jagged-teethed nightmare fuel deserves to be committed.

youtube

Also, there’s only one lizard king, and that’s Jim Morrison, so back off, buddy.

What is hilarious to me is this is the story the screenwriters came up with. Super Mario, as a video game, doesn’t have much lore, right? You slide down pipes, you jump on mushrooms, and you save the princess from a spiky turtle. They took that game and created... This. A parallel underground dinosaur universe that has a sentient fungus as a king, taken over by a human-like t-rex that devolves other lizards into tiny-headed night paralysis demons.

The middle of this movie alternates between a slog of expositional scenes about Daisy being a princess, and pretty entertaining action scenes of the Mario brothers running from Goombas while trying to find and save Daisy. Mario and Luigi steal a cop car and drive it off a cliff Thelma and Louise-style; They cosplay as Ketchup and Mustard to steal the necklace back from Big Burtha while asking her to stomp on them; They jump off a bridge into a garbage truck; They break the pipes in Koopa’s building to freeze everything, and get past an elevator full of Goombas by making them dance.

youtube

Watching Daisy damsel-in-distress-it in Koopa’s high rise office building and fend off advances by a long-tongued dude who devolved her father into a mushroom was pretty boring and disturbing. Alternatively, witnessing Bob Hoskins and John Leguizamo pretend to jump on giant sheets of fungus really sold this movie for me. It succeeds when it tries to be ridiculous and fun, and fall flat when it attempts to integrate any sort of drama that I’m assuming was added to make this story more appealing to adults.

Mario and Luigi eventually find Daisy, and she introduces them to her father - a giant dripping blob suspended from the ceiling. Luigi wants in her pants badly enough that he pretends this is a reasonable thing to do. Mario heads further into the building to free the other ladies kidnapped by tweedle dee and tweedle dum that they initially thought were Daisy, but weren’t. The newly assembled group are able to escape by sliding down the frozen pipes on a mattress before they are green-screen launched out of the pipe and back into the greater Dinohattan area.

youtube

The amount of times Mario and Luigi use their plumbing skills to overcome obstacles may be my favorite part of this movie. The plot goes out of its way to justify a really bizarre character trait for the original game.

Anyway, the end of this movie comes at you fast. First, the sentient fungus king gives Mario and Luigi a bomb, and they decide to wind it up and aim it at Koopa. This takes about 10 minutes of screen time to matter again.

Koopa’s second-in-command tries to merge Daisy’s stolen necklace with the meteor, and instead gets skeletoned to bits, prompting the best line delivery reaction from Daisy, a deadpan “Yikes”.

Because the necklace has now been returned to its resting place, the worlds start to merge Infinity War style.

“Mr. Koopa, I don’t feel so good.”

Koopa and Mario end up back in Manhattan, and Koopa just starts shooting his devo guns at human mobsters, turning them back into primates, and giving their wardrobe a whole new literal definition of monkey suit.

Luigi uses his super plumbing powers to drill the necklace back out of the meteor, separating the worlds again. The bomb finally goes off, they devo Koopa into slime, and the citizens celebrate by immediately painting over his ever-prevalent propaganda.

The king evolves back into a mushroom person or something, and Daisy stays in Dinohattan to get to know her father better. Mario and Luigi return to their lives in Brooklyn as plumbers, and their heroic acts make them conspiracy community famous, as they now refer to our heroes as the Super Mario Brothers. Roll Credits.

Except not, because Daisy returns to ask for the help of a couple of great plumbers, setting up a sequel that will never, ever happen because there is no god and we’re not allowed to feel joy.

Honestly, Super Mario Bros. is great. It owned every bold plot and visual choice it made, and I have to respect it. I could listen to John Leguizamo say Mario like 700 more times. Y’all are missing out if you think you’re too cool to watch this movie.

I’ll be back to musical reviews later this month. I have a few seasonally appropriate movies in my big red sack waiting to be placed under the tree... Yes, I meant to phrase it that way.

#unwarranted opinion

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spider-manholland · 5 years ago

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Wrong Person | Peter Parker

Pairing(s): brief Peter Parker x Female Reader, Peter Parker x Michelle Jones

Warning(s): angst, whole lotta sadness, implications of rape, torture, murder, small hints of fluff, major Far From Home spoilers

Summary: Peter Parker’s biggest secret was out to the world and now, it was his job to protect the people he cared for most in the world against the many others that targeted who he loved, both platonically and romantically. But he will soon then learn that he was protecting the wrong person all along.

Author’s Note: I was forreal tearing up when writing this one-shot. I changed the way Peter found out about his secret of being Spider-Man was released to fit this one-shot. Hope you guys enjoy this heartache.

Masterlist

You knew your chances with Peter were over the moment you saw his lips meet MJ’s on top of the London Bridge, feeling your heartbreak at the sight of his wide smile that formed on his face when he pulled away.

You wanted to be angry. You wanted to hate MJ for taking your chance with him away but you couldn’t. She was perfect for him. She was everything you weren’t. Incredibly beautiful, insanely smart and just—perfect. You also wanted to be mad at Peter for not taking the your hints on how you feel about him but you couldn’t. You knew after everything he went through on this trip he deserved happiness and if he was happy, you were okay.

But sadly his happiness didn’t last long.

- - -

“-oh I just can’t wait be king!” You sang along cheerfully as you and Peter watched The Lion King in your room, the half-eaten bowl of popcorn resting on your lap.

“I still can’t believe no matter how many times you’ve watched this you still react like this is the first time.” Peter laughed as you sang loudly, a bright smile on your lips as your tore your eyes away from the television to face him. “Hey,” you scoffed playfully, “You don’t seem me complaining whenever we watch Star Wars over and over again. This week is my turn to choose the movie so deal with it.”

“Alright, touché.” Peter nodded, nudging your shoulder as the both of you laughed. You couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter at the sound of his laugh, sparks erupting in your chest at the sudden touch from him. It’s only been a week since you both came back from your disastrous trip in Europe and this was the first time you two actually got to spend time together...alone. There was part of you that still wanted to tell Peter how you like him, mentally telling you that if you don’t confess to him it’ll eat you up for the rest of your life. But the other part of you was telling you not to say anything, that if you do it’ll only cause problems because he was with MJ and he was happy, and you confessing your feelings to him won’t change anything.

“So how are you and MJ?” You suddenly asked, hoping that hearing him talk about his relationship, seeing up close on how happy he is would help you decide on what to do. “Oh, we’re doing great.” Peter smiled, his mind wandering towards the dark-skinned girl that he had a crush on for months and was now his girlfriend. “Yesterday we went on a date and I took her swinging around the city. She loved it.”

“That’s great.” You smiled fakely, hoping that Peter wouldn’t notice but of course he did. He immediately noticed the small glint in your eyes and the crinkles on your forehead as you nibbled on your bottom lip, tearing your gaze away from his. “I’m really happy for you.”

“Hey,” Peter frowned, placing a comforting hand on your thigh, forcing your softened eyes to meet his concerned ones. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing-” you tried to lie but was then cut off when Peter shook his head, causing you to stop and stare at him confusingly. “Don’t try to lie to me, Y/N. I know when you’re lying.” Peter sternly pointed out. “It’s just me. Talk to me.”

You could feel your heart beating against your chest as you stared down at your hands, trying to put your words together. “Peter I-” Before you could even properly say anything both of your phones suddenly went off, seeing that you guys both received a text from Ned in the group chat the three of you shared. The text saying in all capitals “TURN ON THE NEWS”

Without asking why, Peter grabbed your television remote and turned your guys’ movie off, changing it to the news channel. And that’s when you felt both of your hearts stop. Playing on your television was a video of Mysterio saying how Peter was Spider-Man, the video then changing into a yearbook photo of your best friend.

You turned to face Peter, your heart sinking at the sight of his glossy eyes and the frown on his lips.

The entire world now knew that Peter Parker was Spider-Man.

- - -

It’s been two weeks since the world found out that Spider-Man was none other than sixteen-year-old Peter Parker. It’s also been two weeks since you’ve seen Peter yourself.

When the world found out he was Spider-Man, Peter has been practically attached to the hip with MJ, constantly with her, making sure her she was safe. You could feel your heartache every time you could see him by her side, his hands always gripping hers or having a protective arm around her. You wondered why he never checked up on you, your his best friend and it bothered you. Did he not care about you?

You were so lost on your thoughts that you didn’t hear Mr. Delmar call you until you felt him grab your shoulder, bringing you back to reality. “Hey kid, is Peter coming soon? I gotta close shop.”

“Um,” you glanced down at your phone, seeing that Peter was already three hours later. “No, he isn’t.” You frowned, standing up from your seat and smiling apologetically at Mr. Delmar who was staring at you with sympathetic eyes. “Sorry kid, I’m sure he was just caught up with something—especially after everything that has been going on lately.”

You didn’t say anything other than gave the older man one last smile before leaving his deli store and began to make your way home. As you walked home, you couldn’t help but start to feel angry, reaching for phone inside your pocket and quickly dialed Peter’s number. You then rolled your eyes when you were sent to voicemail, like usual now.

“Hey Peter,” your voice laced with anger. “You missed our dinner plans at Delmar’s, again. You know, the one we made together when you couldn’t make it to our movie night last week.” You didn’t know you were crying until you felt your tears drop onto your arms. “I just miss you, Pete. We don’t see each other anymore, we don’t even talk. You always ditch me at lunch to sit with MJ, you don’t answer my calls and you don’t reply to my texts. Can you-” you paused, hearing a couple footsteps behind you, sending goosebumps along your skin. “Can you just please call me back? Bye, Pete.”

The moment you hung up your phone the footsteps became louder, sending your heart into overdrive as you quickened the pace of your walking.

Thinking you could escape whoever was following you, you jumped when two men suddenly came from the dark alleyway in front of you, devilish smirks on their faces. “So, you’re Spider-Man’s girl?”

“W-What?” You croaked out, taking a couple cautious step back only to have your back collide into someone’s chest. You turned around, your eyes widening when seeing another two men standing behind you. “N-No I’m not. I-I don’t even know Spider-Man-”

“Don’t try to lie to us!” One the other men snapped, one of his hands gripping onto your arm and shoving you into the dark alley, hissing in pain when your body fell onto the ground. “My boys remember that little Spider freak saving you from Adrian Toomes, our former boss.”

“And we’ve tried so hard to find a way to make Spider-Man pay for making us lose our jobs and spend years in jail.” Another man took over, pacing around you, causing your skin to turn pale from fear. “And when his true identity was revealed, it wasn’t hard to find the people he cared for to target.”

You felt your heart drop into the pit of your stomach at his words. “Who else are you going after?” You questioned, your mind being filled with images of May, Ned, and—MJ.

“Right now,” the main man stepped forward, a smirk clear on his face as he pulled something out of his pocket. Your eyes then widened, filling with tears of pure horror when realizing that it was pocketknife, the bright moonlight reflecting off the sharp blade and hitting your face. “Only you.”

- - -

Peter found himself waking up at the feeling of the empty spot next to him on his bed, his mind wondering where MJ was. After a long night of watching Star Wars, May allowed MJ to spend night, only if they promised no funny business and kept the door open. She knew that ever since Peter’s secret was exposed that he became extra protective over his new girlfriend, not wanting him worry if she did leave in the middle of the night.

When Peter got up from his bed he could hear the faint sound of the living room’s television on. And when he entered the room, his eyes immediately landed on May and MJ, who were currently watching the news with tears in their eyes.

“What’s going on, May?” Peter asked out of complete worry, walking towards MJ and taking her trembling figure into his arms. “Hey, you okay?”

“Don’t look at the tv, Peter.” Was the only thing MJ said, her glossy eyes staring into Peter’s confused ones.

“Why-” Peter began to ask but stopping when he saw your photo appear on the screen of television, the next words coming out of the news’ anchor causing his entire world to come crashing down.

“-and onto depressing news, this morning a passing pedestrian came across a female body laying in an alleyway near Delmar’s Deli and Grocery. The police were on the scene at sunrise to collect any evidence that was left. The evidence that they managed to collect revealed that victim was a sixteen-year-old girl named Y/N L/N. And from an anonymous source, we’ve learned that the girl was friends with Spider-Man himself. Now we must ask, was this just a normal robbery gone wrong? Or a violent--horrific act to get Spider-Man’s attention? We may never know.”

Peter fell down onto his knees as another photo of you appeared on the screen, this picture revealing what exactly happened. Peter felt himself choking on his sobs as tears began to spill uncontrollably down his face, taking in the features of what was now your lifeless body. Seeing the bruises that covered your arms, the cuts that littered your face and clothes you were wearing that were torn apart, showing off your now pale skin. The sound of May and MJ calling out to him went faint as he soon came to realize...

He was protecting the wrong person.

Send in any Peter Parker/Tom Holland requests you guys have.

- Permanent Tags -

@laic2299

#spider-manholland #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker angst #peter parker fluff #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x you #spiderman angst #spiderman fluff

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whitleyschn33 · 4 years ago

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RWBY7 Soundtrack

Should I be reviewing/giving my thoughts on the OST when I have plenty of asks in my inbox to answer and have no musical authority at all? No, probably not. Am I doing it anyway? Yes.

This is just going to be in what (I assume) is the track order. Let me know if I miss any; I’m going off a YouTube playlist.

1. Trust Love

Initial thoughts: Eh.

It’s okay. It’s not my favorite opening, that honor goes to When It Falls, but it’s competent. Very optimistic, which is a trend for this volume’s soundtrack despite how dire the tone of the latter half is, so I don’t think it fully fits the volume it opens for, but it’s by no means a bad song. It’s easy to sing along and bop to, just doesn’t seem as impressive as the other opening songs. It feels like a different sort of sound than what RWBY songs have been in the past, which is also a running theme for the OST this volume - new artists singing, a lot of experimentation in the style. That’s not a bad thing; the tracks I like the most on this album are the different sounding ones, but it’s very.... noticeable, and didn’t go in the direction you would think for Atlas.

2. Touch the Sky

Initial Thoughts: Why is the best part of this song the ending?

No, but seriously, that outro is a very different sound to the proceeding song and it’s so good. Other than that, I’ve got questions. Like, whose song is this? I’m leaning towards Team RWBY as a whole, but I’ve seen people suggest it’s Weiss’s, it’s Blake’s, I could see an argument for Yang - it’s very unclear. Also, why is the POV character(s) so happy? Their situation isn’t all that much better in terms of Salem and the Relic and all that; they should still be weighed down with that knowledge, shouldn’t they? They don’t trust Ironwood to help make things all better, they still have to carry the Relic (for plot reasons), the only thing that’s changed is that they’re going out on missions. Well, fresh clothes and a distraction are always nice, and it is a chance to put all that stuff on the back burner. I’ll give them that, then.

3. Brand New Day

Initial Thoughts: From the writers that make every Blake song a duet, here’s her volume 7 song; a duet with.... Qrow?

Have Blake and Qrow ever even spoken to each other? And, is there actually no solo Blake song, or am I beating on a dead meme? Actually, to be completely serious, these two actually work well in a song together. Their character directions compliment each other in this volume - both trying to reinvent themselves some and become better (Blake with her new hair and outfits, Qrow with a new outfit and a resolve to recover from alcoholism), it’s just a shame that, you know, this kind of talk or relationship never happens in the show. At all.

Someone in the YouTube comment section said this song sounds like a 90′s sitcom opening, and I have to agree. It really does, mixed with a bit of 50′s doo-wap. It’s not bad, I actually like the doo-wap, but it also has bits of the usual RWBY style rock, and they don’t mix as coherently as I would like in some places. The guitar bridge after Qrow’s verse is pretty nice, though.

Overall, it’s another good song to bop along to, but like the songs before it, I’m not sure it’s one I’ll be listening to over and over.

4. Let’s Get Real

Initial Thoughts: So, even the song thinks they should talk - why didn’t they?

Here’s something you may not know about me. I don’t romantically ship Renora. I’ve always preferred them as a brother/sister pair - probably in part because I’m a sucker for found family. I’ve never really had anything against romantic Renora, though... but this volume definitely made me go from neutral to dislike. Ren’s confused, he’s worried, he’s having doubts about their relationship that he’s not sure how to vocalize. He admits as much. And instead of, I don’t know, respecting that and letting it be for the moment, or pulling him aside to try and help him talk it through, she... kisses him. Instead of stopping to let them work through where their relationship is at the present (which would be nice, to clue the audience in on what exactly their status is), she pushes their relationship to the next level, presumably. It leaves a very bad taste in my mouth, that Ren’s emotions about his relationship with Nora are just shoved aside and aren’t brought up again. Hopefully it does in the next volume (Nora and Ren are notably split for, like, the first time ever in the Volume 8 preview), but still - I thought Tumblr had decided that “guy shuts a girl up by kissing her” trope was sexist or something - shouldn’t this be similarly scrutinized?

Putting that aside, I actually really really like this. It’s very reminiscent of Shine, but a Renora version; it’s got a great beat, the lyrics do a great job in character insight (something I love from RWBY songs, which are probably why Touch the Sky doesn’t do a lot for me), and it’s just a very fun, peppy song. It also feels very at home in Atlas with it’s more techno-leanings. The ending chorus chant of “Is it love?” is also a nice touch.

5. Celebrate

Initial Thoughts: The better Brand New Day (musically speaking).

And by that I mean, it leans all the way into this different style than the half/half approach Brand New Day did, and it’s all the better for it. Once again, another good dancing song, easy to listen and bop to, but it feels... oddly generic. For one thing, there’s no character tied to it, no character insight - I guess you could make an argument for Robin or the Happy Huntresses, but... not really? For another, while as a song I really enjoy the genre of music, it also makes it feel very much not like a RWBY song (something not helped by name-dropping Vegas). It’s fun, but it doesn’t feel like it adds much to the show.

6. War

Initial Thoughts: Wow, I didn’t think you could make me hate the AceOps fight more, but look at that.

Probably the first RWBY song I just flat out hate, and that’s a crying shame considering the excellent music and vocal performances. Those lyrics, though. Just - I hate them. I hate them so damn much. I refuse to give this song more than that.

7. Hero

Initial thoughts: Hell yeah hell yeah hell yeah HELL YEAH -

Best song on the album probably. It has all the usual RWBY flare, gives us a great insight into Ironwood’s thoughts and motivations, and is a fantastic performance by Caleb Hyles. The operatic section at the beginning is wonderfully chilling, and the rock section is very epic. 10/10 song even though I’m not rating these.

8. Until the End

Initial thoughts: Time to play “Who does this gorgeous song belong to?”

Actually, I really, really enjoy this song. It’s creepy in its melancholy, but I love it for that. The piano and subtle strings are beautiful, and the way Casey’s voice echoes gives the illusion of solitude in an empty place, perfect for the tone this song conveys.

Now, the matter of whose song it is. The consensus seems to be Ruby and/or Summer, and that’s pretty likely (and letting Ruby actually have a song would be nice). However, I heard a rumor before the album dropped that this was an Ozpin song, and going through it with that lens makes a whole lot of sense - the repeated “I’ll be here until the end”, the constant use of “we”, “our” and other plurals, the lines “ In waves of shame, we’re desperate to make amends / But through a simple soul, we lie complacent” could refer to him lying dormant in Oscar or other souls in the past instead of actively working to defeat Salem, and in the lines “ As light fills my eyes / I’ll picture me beside her / And pray that I’ll inspire”, it could be him thinking of Salem when he dies, and then praying that he’ll be able to inspire others to fight for humanity, for the light.

I could see it either way, honestly, but no matter which it is, I love this song.

9. Fear

Initial thoughts: Fire whoever was in charge of sound mixing, otherwise, not as preachy as I was fearing.

This is actually the first time I’ve listened to this. I was pretty pissed at the ending of the finale so I didn’t stick around for the credits, and hearing that it was called “Fear”, I was not in the mood for more Ironwood bashing or “You’re just as bad as she is if you act in fear�� or whatever BS Oscar said. So, yeah, wasn’t looking forward to this track.

Thankfully, though, it was not another War. I actually enjoyed the lyrics, and the music was top-notch. Don’t really have much more to say about it other than it was difficult to hear the lyrics over the music in some places, but that could be a factor of the video I was listening to. All in all, pleasantly surprised.

10. I May Fall (Acoustic)

Initial Thoughts: Can someone tell the Williams that “acoustic” doesn’t always mean “depressing?”

Like, acoustic doesn’t have to be a super slow, piano/strings, somber rendition, right? It’s just the instruments and the singer without any added computer editing/layering/whatever, if I’m not mistaken. That style of acoustic works alright with songs like Time to Say Goodbye, but not so well with more upbeat songs. This version isn’t bad, per se, but I’d like to see an acoustic version more in line with the original.

That aside - the original I May Fall is my favorite RWBY song, bar none. This rendition was always going to be something I liked, and I do appreciate a lot about it. The strings are absolutely beautiful, particularly the cello(? I think, again, I’m not much of a music person, just have a sister that plays violin), and I love the way the violin/viola picks up for the second verse and gives the song a second wind, implying more strength and resolve. I love the music cutting out completely to let Casey sing, with the instruments slowly coming in to join as she gets louder and stronger, as if standing with her - beautiful, it’s all insanely beautiful, and this is one I will probably buy.

Closing Thoughts

This album was... average, to me. Only a couple songs really jumped out at me, while most were good, but not something I was dying to listen to again, or were dragged down by the context.

What’re your thoughts on this volume’s songs? I’d love to hear them! Until then, have a good evening, and stay safe!

#rwby7 #rwby #rwby7 soundtrack #rwby soundtrack

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crookswithbooks · 4 years ago

Text

New Uniforms

There’s a new uniform being installed at McDonalds Incorporated and Bill is not happy about it.

This is a work of fiction, I do not own McDonalds or anything related to it.

“What are you wearing?” Bill exclaimed, aghast.

“Do you like it?” Janet twisted around to stare at her outfit, tugging nervously at the hem of her shirt. “I wasn’t really sure if it was working, but...”

“No, I mean...” Bill struggled to rephrase his sentence. “Why are you wearing it? What happened to your uniform?”

“Oh, that. This is the new uniform that our boss ordered. We all have to wear them; it’s protocol,” Janet explained.

The two were sipping coffee in the break room while they waited for work to start. The reason for Bill’s disturbance was Janet’s current outfit which consisted of a pair of pink short-shorts and an equally pink button-up that was far too big on her. Bill leaned one hand against the table, trying to avert his eyes from the large amount of leg that was suddenly visible. “Steve?”

Janet shook her head. “Nah, the higher-ups. You know, Steve’s boss, the big boss, the boss-no-one-ever-talks-about? That guy. Anyway, how come you don’t know about them? Steve sent out an email telling us all about it.”

Bill grimaced, taking a sip of his coffee. “I stopped opening emails from Steve a while ago, ever since he just kept spamming me weird links to cat videos and Ke$ha songs.”

“Bill, why aren’t you wearing your new uniform?” came Fred’s voice as he strolled over to the coffee machine.

Bill glanced up only to spit out his coffee in shock. “Fred? Why are you wearing a skirt?”

Fred sighed, pressing buttons impatiently on the machine. “Why does everyone keep asking that? Didn’t anybody read the email?” He gave up on the machine, coming around and stealing a sip from Bill’s cup. “Good stuff.”

“Hey!” Bill protested, snatching his cup away.

Fred ignored him, glancing critically at his rolled up sleeves and wrinkled pants. “You know you’re gonna get in trouble if you’re not wearing the new uniform, right? You should drop by Steve’s office before work starts.”

“Is it supposed to be that small?” Bill asked warily, pointing to the other man’s shirt which only went down past his ribs. His outfit was the same glaring bright pink as Janet’s. “And how come Janet has the shorts and you have the skirt?”

Fred shrugged, collapsing in a lounge chair in the corner. “Eh. I stopped questioning things here a while ago. It’s a little revealing, but it’s not like I had any dignity to begin with, so...”

“That’s ridiculous,” Bill scoffed. “Why do we have to wear skirts to sell McDonalds food or... whatever it is we do at this job?”

“I think Fred looks great in a skirt!” Janet said with an earnest smile.

Bill sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is not about whether or not Fred looks good in a skirt.”

Fred frowned at him. “Are you saying I don’t look good in a skirt?”

“What? No--guys, listen--”

Janet placed a comforting hand on Fred’s shoulder. “Don’t listen to him Fred. I think you look great in a skirt.”

Fred shot Bill a pointed glare. “Thank you, Janet. Bill, why can’t you be more like Janet?”

Bill threw his hands up in exasperation. “This is not about Fred! I simply want to know why we are being forced to wear skirts against our will.”

“I don’t mind wearing a skirt,” Fred said, holding up one hand.

“This is outrageous! This can’t be legal, can it?” Bill persisted.

“I think you’re just jealous that Fred looks better in a skirt than you,” Janet said and Fred nodded sagely.

Bill fisted his hands in his hair with wide eyes. “What. Is. Happening? Why is no one listening to me?”

Steve, who happened to be walking by the room, caught the last part of this sentence. He stuck his head into the room, glancing around at all of them. “Hey guys! What’s wrong Bill? Are they doing that thing where they pretend you’re so short that they can’t hear you again?”

Bill was indeed short for a man of his age, standing at merely 5′ 2″, and his friends never failed to remind him of it.

Steve’s comment finally got to him and Bill sunk against the counter sullenly, pressing a hand to his forehead. “It’s no use talking to you people.”

Steve titled his head in confusion for a moment before brushing it off with a shrug. “Oh well.” He had come into the room fully, revealing the same uniform as Fred’s but his actually fit. There was a small bundle shoved under his arm that looked like some kind of pink cloth and Bill got a sinking feeling in his gut. “I actually came in here to drop off something. Bill, I know you stared blocking my emails a while ago after I sent that same video of a cat jumping in and out of a box over and over fifty times now.”

“Just leave the box! Live your life, cat,” Bill muttered.

“So I figured you hadn’t gotten the memo about the uniforms and came to deliver yours in person!” Steve tossed the jumble of clothing at Bill who fumbled to catch it. “And you better change fast. We only have five minutes before work starts.”

Bill held up the clothing in horror, his appalled disgust undisguised. “And don’t even think of getting rid of it after I’m gone. I’ll know.” Steve smiled, walking serenely out of the tiny room. “I always know...”

Fred gaped after him. “What?”

Bill sighed, squeezing the uniform to his chest. “Well, I guess I don’t have a choice then. Goodbye dignity, hello employment!”

Me marched off to the bathrooms, pausing for a moment before opening the door. He frowned uncertainly at it until Janet piped up, “I can help you if you don’t know how to put it on.”

Immediately, Bill’s face turned an alarming shade of vermillion and he nearly dropped the clothing in shock. He grabbed the doorknob with unnecessary force, blustering frantically. “I can do it myself! Besides, I doubt you’re even smart enough to know how to put it on anyway. God, can you be any more clueless Janet?!” He finally managed to wrench the door open and stomped inside with loud footsteps. “And don’t follow me!” he added, slamming the door shut behind him.

Janet winced at the bang of the door, deflating a little. “Why is Bill always so mean to me, Fred?” she pouted, sinking into a chair beside him and pulling her knees up to her chest. “I just wanted to help him.”

Fred inwardly cringed at the idea of explaining Bill’s feelings. He awkwardly patted her knee. “There, there. Bill is... Bill is complicated.”

“What do you mean, complicated?” Janet blinked up at him innocently and Fred winced.

He struggled to find a way to explain that Bill only acted like he hated her to hide deeper feelings without revealing said feelings. “Well, you see--”

At that moment Bill exited the bathroom, looking more apologetic and hesitant than before. His shirt sleeves extended far past where his hands ended and his skirt fell down to his knees. He cupped the back of his neck, staring at the far wall. “I, uh, I think this is yours Fred.” He straightened up, looking his friend in the eye. “Do you wanna... do you wanna trade?”

Fred looked down at the exposed length of his own, lean, taught stomach. “Nah, I’m good with what I’m wearing.”

Bill gave him an incredulous look. “What? Fred, I can’t wear this to work! I can’t type like this!” He flapped his sleeves for emphasis. Fred tried to withhold laughter while Janet giggled. “Guys? Guys, this isn’t funny!”

Fred snorted. “I mean, it’s a little funny.”

Bill flushed, growling in agitation. “Fine. I will go to work like this but only because I have no other choice. I’m gonna kill Steve or Steve’s boss or whoever’s fault this is! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to get to.”

“Oh, that reminds me!” Janet sat up straighter in her chair. “I had an idea for where to put our new McDonalds building.”

“Here we go again,” Bill sighed, rolling his eyes.

“What if we put it on top of a cloud?” Janet suggested.

Bill didn’t react for a moment. “That’s it. I’m done.”

“You know, to appeal to all our flying customers?” Janet continued. “What better after a good swoop through the skies than a nice refreshing McChicken?”

Bill snatched his coffee cup from the table, heading towards the door. “I’m leaving.”

“No, Bill, wait, do you think it’ll work?”

“Bye~!”

“Bill, come back!”

#mcdonalds incorporated #fiction #orignal content

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a-ratt · 6 years ago

Text

Building Bridges

Day 1: Kindness

Marinette March 2019

Marinette tapped her knees impatiently as she sat on the floor of Master Fu’s massage parlor. Nearby, Master Fu, himself, was opening the phonograph hiding the Miraculous, placing the returned Bee Comb back inside. She’d only just arrived several minutes ago, and he’d given a relieved sigh when she held the briefly lost Miraculous up.

However, she didn’t watch as he set it back where it belonged. Instead, she stared off into the distance, her mind muddled and messy. Thoughts ran rampant at a thousand miles per hour, crossing and clashing and crashing as she tried making sense of the scene that’d played out in front of her.

“According to me, Chloé just clearly demonstrated that there’s nothing exceptional about her.”

How could anyone say that? About their own daughter, no less.

“Marinette.”

She blinked. “Huh?” She looked up and found Master Fu sitting in front of her.

“I said, thank you for returning the Bee Miraculous, Marinette.” He smiled and bowed, hands pressed together. “I knew I chose you for a reason.”

She blushed and rubbed the back of her neck. “Of course, Master Fu. I’m still really sorry about losing it in the first place.”

He shrugged. “We all make mistakes. Is there something the matter?”

“No, master….” She looked down and tapped her knees, but then looked back up. “Well, actually, yes. I need to be somewhere soon.”

“I see, well, you are free to leave.”

“Thank you, Master Fu.” She bowed briefly and stood up. Then, turning to Tikki, she asked, “Do you have enough energy for another transformation, Tikki?”

Her kwami nodded. “Mmhm. Just say the magic words.”

Marinette smiled and brushed the hair over her earrings away. “Spots on!”

She landed on the roof of Le Grand Paris and glanced around before de-transforming.

“Um, Marinette, this isn’t your house.”

“I know, Tikki,” she said, stepping over to the roof access door.

“But you need to pack to go to New York City with Mme. Bourgeois! She won’t be happy if you’re late!”

“I’m not going with her,” she said, looking over her shoulder at Tikki. “I’ve got something more important to do.”

She opened the door and walked down the steps until she reached the top floor of the hotel. After getting her bearings, she moved towards the only room in the hall. She could already hear Chloé sniffling on the other side.

She raised her fist to knock but faltered. There was a tug on her purse strap, and she looked down at Tikki.

“Marinette,” she whispered, “what are you doing?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but a crash cut her off. She gasped and stepped back, but then heard a furious cry, followed by a choked sob. “Why won’t you love me!”

Marinette faltered, but tightened her fist and swallowed down her fear. She looked at Tikki, who retreated into her purse, giving a small, reassuring smile as she went.

“Okay,” she breathed, “here goes nothing.”

She knocked. There was a sniffle, followed by another, then Chloé shouted, “Go away!”

She waited a moment before knocking again.

“I said go away!” Chloé screamed. “Leave me alone, Jean! Daddy! Whoever you are!”

There was a moment of silence before she went back to sobbing. Guilt and pity twisted her gut painfully as she stood there, listening to the girl who’d bullied her for years in the most vulnerable state she’d ever been.

Whatever hatred or rivalry they’d had, she didn’t care. This was about more than past judgements and retribution. Someone pettier might’ve chalked it all down to poetic justice, but Marinette put it at a tragic childhood that no one should’ve ever endured.

She checked the door and found it unlocked. Opening it, she stepped inside Chloé’s room and found her curled up on the ground, back facing her. A vase was shattered nearby, shards, dirt, and roses scattered across the carpet and marble tiles. Beneath her shoe was the sunglasses she always wore, some of the glass sticking to her soles.

Marinette took in the sight with a grimace, but then found her resolve and took a step forward.

A hand wiped over Chloé’s face as a sob wracked her body. Marinette reached out a hand and touched her shoulder gently. “Chloé-”

The blonde girl jumped and swung an arm. She instinctively jumped away, dodging it by an inch. Her arch-nemesis scowled at her, running mascara turning her tears black and making the red of her bloodshot eyes pop out. “What part of leave me alone don’t you understand… Oh, it’s you.” Venom dripped from her voice. “What do you want, Dupain-Cheng? You’ve already won.

Her heart dropped and she opened her mouth to speak but closed it. Chloé glared at her for a second longer before she turned back around to burn holes into space. The tension was thick between them and she didn’t know what to say without setting her off.

There was a buzzing nearby and Marinette looked over to find Chloé’s phone on the ground. She glanced at the blonde girl before stepping over and picking it up. The screen was cracked, but not distorted enough for her to mistake the image of André Bourgeois.

She offered the phone to her. “Um, your dad’s-”

Chloé slapped it out of her hand before she could finish. The phone sailed into the next room over, hitting the ground with a crack. She cringed and backed away but couldn’t help the pitying look that crossed her face. “Chloé.”

Chloé, in turn, bared her teeth in a snarl, but halfway through expressing her fury, she let it go and slumped her shoulders. A few tears hit the floor before she wiped her face and sniffled. “Just… go away. Go to New York, at least you’ll be gone too.”

She looked down at the daughter of the mayor who’d always seemed invincible on her pedestal. Pity coiled in her stomach and her heart bled. Swallowing down her hesitation, she balled her hands into fists and took a deep breath. “I’m not going to New York.”

She waited. A second passed. Then, Chloé lifted her head up.

A weak “What?” was her response, followed by a confounded face. Marinette crossed her arms and looked away, wearing a frown the entire time.

“I… I’m not going,” she repeated. “I can’t-... I can’t do that to you.”

Chloé furrowed her brow and tilted her head, utter bewilderment all over her features. She could see her mind trying to wrap itself around the concept of her moral choice, but just not getting it.

“What game are you playing?”

Marinette frowned. “I’m not playing any game. I just… I can’t….” She shook her head and gave an exasperated sigh. “She’s your mother, Chloé, I can’t just go with her. That should be you.”

She expected an outburst. A confirmation. Some kind of Chloé-trademarked, snide remark. But all she got were falling eyes and drooping shoulders.

She shifted uncomfortably in front of the unusually quiet bully. “Chloé… why do you even look up to her?”

The blonde girl didn’t give an answer. She sat silently and Marinette watched her.

“Because she’s exceptional….” She curled up, drawing her knees to her chest. “She’s everything I’m not and… and I….” Her face scrunched up, something between anger and misery crossing her features. “I wanted to be her… ever since I was a little girl.”

She stepped over tentatively before sitting down next to her. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Daddy used to want me to grow up like him. He wanted me to sit in a dusty, old office and sign papers all day, but mother… she wanted me to be like her. She wanted me to be her legacy, to be everything that was perfect about her and more.”

“But you didn’t live up to her expectations.”

Chloé glared at her. “Who’s telling this story? Me or you?”

“Sorry… but, I still don’t get it,” she rubbed the back of her neck. “Why her? Why not… anything else?”

“Why? because she has it all,” she snapped, rising up to stand over her. “Fame. Fortune. The love and adoration of her fans.”

“But?”

“But what? She’s got everything, she’s perfect.”

Marinette frowned. “But you’re not.”

It was less of a claim and more a prodding, a soft suggesting that Chloé confirmed with a brief glare before she flicked her eyes away. “All I’ve ever wanted was to be her.”

“Well, you don’t have to be.”

“What! Of course, I do!” She put her hands on her hips. “Weren’t you listening! She has everything! She is everything!”

“But she’s not you.” She stood up and looked her in the eye. “And you’re not her.”

Chloé pursed her lips before she bowed her head. “How could I ever be anything else?”

She reached over to put a hand on her shoulder, but the blonde snapped up and grabbed her ponytail. “I’ve modeled my look after her when she was my age, ponytail and everything!” She picked at her jacket. “Even my entire wardrobe has the same color scheme! There’s nothing that’s not her!”

What hatred or sadness had plagued her before was replaced with desperation and fear. She was forced to grab her wrists before she started drawing blood with her nails.

“Hey, calm down! It’s alright!”

“Nothing is alright!” She struggled in her grasp, tears streaking her mascara further. “I’m nothing if I’m not her! I’m- I’m-”

“Chloé Bourgeois!” she shouted. “Your name is Chloé Bourgeois and you are exceptional!”

Chloé stared at her, eyes wide and mouth agape. She swallowed and let go of her wrists.

“It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks of you, especially your mother. No one can make you be something or someone you’re not.” She shrugged her shoulders and gestured over at the Ladybug themed carpet in the next room over. “Ladybug wasn’t always a superhero. She wasn’t always supposed to save the day. I wasn’t always going to be a fashion designer… I used to just want to play video games professionally.”

The blonde girl in front of her searched her face with lost eyes while she laughed awkwardly. “Look, the point is… you are exceptional, Chloé, no matter what anyone tells you. The only one who can tell you what you can or can’t be is yourself.”

They stood quietly for a few moments, studying each other. She wasn’t sure what Chloé was looking for, but she was searching for any hint that the blonde girl would be alright. She didn’t find it, at first, but slowly, the pain and anguish that’d stayed in her eyes waned away, leaving the blue a little brighter.

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips, but she resisted the urge to break out into a grin. “I’m going to, um, leave now.” She pointed at the door and stepped around her. She stopped just past her and turned around, patting her on the shoulder. “You’re going to be alright, Chloé. If you ever need anybody to talk to… I’m always open.”

With that, she opened the door and walked out into the hall, daring one last glance into the room at her arch-nemesis.

“Nino?”

Nino raised his hand up front. “Here!”

Mlle. Bustier scribbled on her clipboard. “Rose?”

“Present!”

“Kim?”

Marinette glanced back at Kim, who was in the middle of a conversation with Max. She rolled her eyes and looked back at Mlle. Bustier, who was looking over her clipboard.

“Kim?”

The Vietnamese boy turned his attention down to the front of the classroom and flushed red. “Uh, here!”

Their homeroom teacher shook her head and laughed under her breath. Then, she frowned. “Has anyone seen Chloé?”

Everyone glanced over at her seat, their eyes lingering on the empty spot next to Sabrina. The redhead, herself, seemed crestfallen, almost depressed.

There was a nudge from her left and she glanced over at Alya.

“Bet she’s busy crying about mommy,” she teased.

She responded with a frown. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied Adrien tensing up. Nino, beside him, looked over then back and up at them.

“Talking about Mlle. Unexceptional?”

“Guys.” She narrowed her eyes. “Come-”

The classroom door opened before she could finish and in came a tanned girl dressed in white. Her blonde hair tumbled down her head, freed from its usual ponytail and a new pair of sunglasses sat on her head. A simple, white designer purse sat at her side.

Marinette sat up and locked eyes with Chloé. There was fear in those blue orbs, of judgement and jokes, but she sent her a smile and an encouraging nod of her head.

Chloé swallowed and looked at Mlle. Bustier. “Sorry I’m late. I couldn’t decide on what to wear.”

Their teacher, who was usually on top of things, blinked and stared at the mayor’s daughter for a second longer before she regained her senses. “That’s… alright, Chloé. Just don’t let it happen again, okay?”

“Of course, Mlle. Bustier.” She nodded. “Thank you.”

With that, she strode to her seat, walking up the steps. While Sabrina stood up to let her in, she leaned over to Chloé and whispered, “I like your new look. It’s very… exceptional.”

Chloé almost grinned, but then glanced around her and reduced it to a small smile. “Of course, it is. It’s me.��

She sat down then but gave her a final look of gratitude before turning to pay attention. She would’ve done the same if Alya hadn’t nudged her again.

“Girl, what was that?” she whispered.

She shrugged. “Just me doing what I do best.”

#miraculous ladybug #marinette march #marinettemarch #marinettelove #marinette dupain-cheng #chloe bourgeois #queen wasp au #it has begun #love our baker daughter #she is kind #should i upload to ao3?#a ratt's fanfics

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duhragonball · 5 years ago

Text

Dragon Ball GT Retrospective (7/7)

[Note: I wrote this on January 16, 2013. Originally, I had embedded a video of Goku Junior slapping his bare ass for like ten hours, but it’s down now :( Such is life.)

Well, I know I said I finished watching Dragon Ball GT, but there's one last thing in the box set: Dragon Ball GT: The Movie

This actually isn't what it sounds like. I'm pretty sure the "movie" was actually a TV special, and it didn't really have much at all to do with the characters or plotlines of GT. Really, it's more of an epilogue tale of the future, set one hundred years after the events in Dragon Ball GT. Of course, GT was set some forty years after the beginning of the first Dragon Ball storyline, so it seems like a jump too far. From what I understand, the original plan was to wrap up the GT series with the end of the Baby Saga, but something happened and they ended up making another twenty-odd episodes. In between all that, they had this GT special set up, probably as a final sendoff to all things Dragon Ball. This was somewhat undermined by flashing a hundred years back for Super 17 and Shadow Dragon Sagas, but in the final episode of GT, they flashed forward yet again to tie the series finale with the special. So, the premise of the special is pretty straightforward. One hundred years after Baby's defeat, Goku and everyone else from Dragon Ball is dead. The only one left is Pan, who's looking pretty spry for a a centenarian. Actually, I'm not sure 100 years was the best time frame to use. Goku's master, Master Roshi, was already three hundred years old when Dragon Ball started, and he survived all the way to the end of GT, never really aging much. The implication was that his lifetime of martial arts training somehow allowed him to unnaturally extend his lifespan, but it was never actually explained. Further, we never really found out what the lifespan of a Saiyan is. Goku and Vegeta aged very little across the timeline of DBZ/DBGT, and Vegeta explained that Saiyans have a much longer physical prime than humans do. Humans like.... Master Roshi? I don't think anyone really put a lot of thought into this, probably because no one ever seriously planned to cover the world of DragonBall that far into the future. Even if we knew how long Saiyans and humans can normally live in that universe, the Saiyan-human hybrid characters would still be an x-factor. I guess what I'm trying to say here is that we really can't tell what keeps Granma Pan so fit. Is it because she's one-quarter Saiyan? Is it because of advances in that Earth's medical technology? Is it because any human in that world could live past 100 with proper diet and exercise? Or is she tapping into the same ki techniques that preserved Master Roshi for so long? What I kind of dig about the special is that no one really knows, and we may never know. The world of Goku and his friends is gone, lost forever like a forgotten dream. Pan seems to be a minor celebrity in her own right, but it's because she's Pan, not so much because she was related to the mysterious Son Goku, daughter of the brilliant scientist Son Gohan, or the heir of the legendary world champion Mister Satan. If she married, her husband is never seen or mentioned. We have no idea if she had brothers or sisters. She must have had at least one son or daughter, but the only reason we know this is because of her grandson, Goku Jr. There's a melancholy to that. Maybe some of these missing figures are still alive, but they're clearly not part of Pan's life anymore. It's just her and her grandson living in Satan City. Goku Jr. probaly knows the city was named to honor his ancestor's heroism at the Cell Games, but the information is meaningless to him. It's ancient history, especially to a small boy. Goku Jr. is the spitting image of his namesake, but this doesn't mean that much to him either. He knows Goku was a great warrior, someone whom Pan respects tremendously, but he might as well be Abraham Lincoln. He looks in the mirror and sees himself, not a cartoon character who could blow up entire planets with his fingers. Pan tries to train Goku Jr, but he's kind of a klutz. More to the point, he's timid and doesn't want to fight. A bully named Puck takes a cool-looking novelty pen from him, and he just lets him keep it. Pan gives him shit for not standing up for himself, but he doesn't see the big deal. During this conversation she has a heart attack or something like that, and we cut to the hospital, where Pan is apparently in bad shape. Goku desperately promises to train harder and fight anyone he has to if it means she'll pull through. This is where Pan realizes she's been too hard on the boy. I like this scene because it would have been too easy to forget that Pan was kind of a pushy jerk when she was a kid. The adult Pan is still demanding and refuses to take crap from anyone, but she's been wanting Goku Jr. to be like her grandfather, and he has been all along. Son Goku wouldn't start a fight over a pen, no matter how many cool floaty things are inside it. But he would go through anything to save Pan, and that's what Goku Jr. is determined to do, too. When Pan takes a turn for the worse, Junior heads home, and notices a photo of Pan as a child, holding a Dragon Ball. He flashes back to a time when Pan tried to tell him the story of the photo, but he was too preoccupied playing video games. PAN: Hey, check this out. It's a picture of me and my robot friend Giru. And I had a dopey orange bandana, and I whined all the time, and Vegeta never got to do anything cool, and-- GOKU JR.: That sounds really boring, granma. I'm gonna play more Super Mario World. It's hard not to like Goku, Jr., is what I'm trying to say. Anyway, Goku Jr. doesn't know the whole mythology of the Dragon Balls, but he does vaguely understand that they grant wishes, and the four-star ball was sort of a family heirloom, so he devises an ill-conceived plan to travel to Mount Paozu and search his ancestor's home for it. A truck driver offers him a lift, but this is just a trick to get all the stuff in his giant backpack. Evil Truck Driver is perhaps my new favorite GT character. GOKU JR.: So what's in this truck? ETD: It's full of hamburgers, kid. It's pretty awesome. GOKU, JR.: Wow, you sure have a lot of food in the cab. ETD: Yep. I've got even more food in this bag here, too. You want some? GOKU JR.: Nah, I've got my own food in my backpack. ETD: ... Really? Uh... say, you want to hop out and take a whiz? It's a long way to go. GOKU JR.: Yeah, I guess I'd better. I'll just leave my backpack stuffed with food in your truck filled with even more food. ETD: Delicious. Uh... I mean, scrumptious! I mean! I'm driving away and taking your food with me! Ha ha ha! I feel really bad for whoever's expecting those hamburgers to arrive. Actually, maybe he's not even a real truck driver. He just stole the truck one day and he's been living off its cargo ever since. Ironically, this turns into a lucky break for Goku, because he meets Puck while he walks to Mt. Paozu on foot. Puck had heard about Goku's plans before he left, and he was so impressed with his daring that he wants to tag along and watch when Goku is eaten by wild animals or bandits. The thing is, Puck's a pretty fair outdoorsman, so as they get closer to their destination he's able to help Goku live off the land. Along the way, Puck begins to bond with Goku Jr., and they have a few minor adventures. Wolves attack them, but they're rescued by a woman with a shotgun who takes them to her home for the night. Unfortunately, she turns out to be a witch or a demon or something. Whatever she is, she eats people. Goku Jr. is suspicious from the start (due to his past experience with Evil Truck Driver), so he and Puck manage to escape. Their partnership comes to an end on a rickety bridge. Goku Jr is afraid to cross until Puck proves it's sturdy enough. Even so, the bridge nearly collapses, and Puck falls off in a failed attempt to rescue Goku. Goku manages to climb back up on his own, and then he rescues a bearcub from one of the same demon bandits he escaped earlier. In gratitude, the bear’s mother escorts Goku to his ancestor's home, but they're once again attacked by the bandits. This time, they're joined by Lord Yao, their leader. The mommy bear tries to fight him off so Goku can take her cub to safety, but she's hopelessly outmatched. Worse, the baby bear slips away and tries to help, so Goku can't even save him. Frustrated with his powerlessness, Goku Jr finally loses his shit and transforms into a Super Saiyan. He clobbers Lord Yao and frightens his henchmen away. When he reverts to normal, he has no memory of the battle, and believes the bears did all the work. With all that out of the way, Goku Jr. locates the Four-Star Dragon Ball in the ruins of what was once his ancestor's childhood home. This is really a melancholy scene. The house belonged to Son Gohan, the kindly old man who adopted the elder Goku when his spaceship crashed on Earth. When Dragon Ball begins, Goku leaves that home to begin his adventures, and aside from a couple of trips to pick up his things, he never really returns. Now, some 140 years later, it's still standing, but derelict. No one remembers the kindly old man who lived there, or how his compassion changed the universe for the better. Someone must have left the four-star Dragon Ball there to honor his memory, but even the significance of that gesture is lost in the sands of time. Goku Jr. doesn't understand how the Dragon Balls work, so he starts praying to the four-star ball, asking the Dragon to restore his grandmother's health and bring Puck back to life if at all possible. When he gets no answer, he becomes upset, and then he notices the original Goku standing beside him. He introduces himself as Goku Jr.'s great-great-grandfather, and explains that the Dragon Balls only work when you have all seven of them. Nevertheless, he congratulates his descendant for his courage and strength, and then Pan and Puck arrive on the scene in an aircraft. Apparently they didn't die after all. The elder Goku disappears without a trace, and Goku Jr. is left with the lesson that his inner strength was what saved the day. I'm not crazy about the ending of the story, since it's never explained how Puck survived his fall. Pan's recovery is no big deal. No one knew for sure whether she would live or die, so it's entirely plausible that she got better, went home, and realized where Goku Jr. must have gone. But Puck fell off a bridge into a deep canyon. Unless Pan swooped in and saved him in the nick of time, I don't see how else he would have survived. Of course, some other superhuman resident of Mount Paozu might have stepped in, but the special seems to be built on the idea that the superheroics of old are no more. Of course, based on the finale of Dragon Ball GT we might infer that Goku Jr.'s wish really was granted after all. In the final episode of the series, Goku merges with the Dragon Balls as Shenron exiles himself from the earth. So if the Four-Star Ball was sitting in his old house, it must have been Goku himself who put it there, because no one else would have had it. And it's reasonable to assume he had the other six with him, so when Goku Jr. made his wish, he really did get it to work after all. The implication is that Goku is the Dragon, and he's not too picky about the rules. I think this is what Toei was going for, but they wanted to keep it ambiguous. Maybe Goku did come back from death to grant his descendant's wish, or maybe Goku Jr. imagined the encounter, and Puck and Pan's survival was just a fortunate coincidence. The next time we see these characters is in Episode 64 of the regular GT television series. Goku Jr. has learned to harness and control his powers to become a talented martial artist. He enters the World Tournament and faces one of Vegeta's descendants in the final round of the Junior Devision. Pan is still in good health, and she meets Vegeta Jr.'s mother, indicating a friendly, if not close, relationship still exists between the two families. The elder Goku reappears once again to watch the tournament finals, but Pan only glimpses him for a moment before he vanishes again. There's a bittersweetness to the special that really makes it worthwhile. Beyond that, it's actually kind of boilerplate. It reminds me a lot of the "Episode of Bardock" special that was recently produced. In that, Goku's biological father Bardock miraculously survives the destruction of his home planet by getting thrown back in time, where he becomes the hero of the pre-Saiyan Planet Plant and turns Super Saiyan at the climactic moment. It's not a bad story, it just doesn't have a whole lot else going for it other than being a callback/tribute to the main Dragon Ball storyline. A lot of fun was had with these future scenarios, depicting heroes who would carry on after Goku: Future Trunks in his alternate timeline, Uub at the end of DBZ, Pan as the heir apparent in GT, and Goku Jr. in this special. But none of these characters ever really goes anywhere new. At best, they follow a path similar to the one charted by Goku and his contemporaries. The moral is that the story is the same no matter who the main character is. Goku Jr. barely knows the legend of his famous ancestor, but he carries on the tradition nevertheless. That's the "hero's legacy". Goku might be forgotten after a few generations, but the things he stood for, the causes he fought for, the example he set, those things are timeless. And that brings us full circle, because I think the chief mistake of Dragon Ball GT was in trying to de-age Goku to artificially loop his character arc. Toei wanted to make Goku his own successor, when they probably would have been better off making Pan the main character, having her own goofy adventures with Goku and Vegeta chilling out in the superhero retirement home. Or they could have skipped ahead and made the series about this Goku Jr. kid, since he has the look they wanted without all the baggage. GT ended with a ham-fisted morality play about how the Dragon Balls had been overused, which is humorous coming from a studio that couldn't let the Dragon Ball franchise end with dignity. With the special, they kind of got it right, but only for a moment.

#dragon ball gt #really sucks #2013gt #r.i.p. goku jr spanks his ass for ten hours video #mourn ya till i join ya

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minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong · 6 years ago

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Sweet Dreams Chapter One

Lucid dreaming: The process of being aware that one is dreaming. Some researchers believe that in lucid dreaming, the individual may be able to change the outcome of the dream or control their degree of participation in the imaginary (dream) environment.

Description: Lee Eunbyul has been plagued with hellish nightmares since she was a child. Not the sort of nightmares you may be familiar with. There are no monsters to evade, no serial killers to outrun, no auditoriums of classmates in front of whom to stand naked. Instead there is just...darkness. Endless darkness. With professional help, the dreams come less frequently. But after moving away from home to live with her sister, Eunbyul’s nightmare returns, only this time it’s different. This time...she’s not alone.

What would you do if you had the chance to change the outcome of not only your dreams, but your life?

Genre: Romance, Drama, Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn

Pairing: Namjoon x (f) OC

Word Count: 8.0k

Tags: Non-Idol!Au, Producer!Namjoon, Bookstore Clerk!Seokjin, Potter!Jimin, Producer!Yoongi, Dancer!Hoseok

Warnings: Frequent mentions of mental illness, infrequent swearing and mentions of alcohol

A/N: Hey guys! Here we are at the start of a new series! Ahhhh I can’t believe it. I’m so so excited about this one, so I really hope you guys like it. I hope I can continue it with your support! I tried uploading yesterday, but it didn’t get much traction, so I’m trying again today! Hopefully this time it works out. Regardless, I’m really enthusiastic about this plot so I’m excited to hear your thoughts! Please don’t be shy and send feedback, critique, questions, theories, and comments my way. I’ll be sure to respond to all asks I receive within a day of receiving them! Links will be added later, so for now check my masterlist to find previous chapters!

And again, if you want to follow my Twitter, my username is @/plzpunchmebts. I’m super active over there and hopefully in the future I’ll do some livestreams/chats with you all!

- Mercury

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Eunbyul

Some people say dreams don’t mean anything. That we assign a story to them when we wake up to make sense of all those disjointed electrical impulses, to glean meaning from the random energy. I always kinda liked that theory. Something about it is a little charming: finding the reason in the chaos. I read somewhere that dreams might serve as a form of psychotherapy, letting us deal with difficult issues without bringing them into waking life. I don’t like this theory as much. I also read somewhere that Sigmund Freud thought dreams give us an insight into our unconscious.

I really don’t like that one.

The air was quiet, half-dead after most of the customers had taken their leave, and smelled of instant coffee and old books. Rows of bookshelves lined the scuffed wood floor, endless greenery swaying in hanging baskets or draping over the tops of shelves. Distantly, I heard the sound of the old coffeemaker straining. Sunset rapidly approached on the horizon, encroaching on the city like a curtain. With a sigh, I let my eyes slide from the tabletop beneath my fingers to the window beside me, overlooking the broken outline of stout buildings, green hillsides, and ocean beyond. My eyes ached a little from straining them for hours and I took a moment to give them a rub with my palms, jimmying my glasses up my nose so they pressed into my forehead.

“Need some coffee?”

I jumped, my glasses clattering onto the old table, and I squinted up toward the voice. Chagrined, my cheeks flamed and I scrambled to grab my glasses once more, placing them carefully on the bridge of my nose so I could see him properly. There he stood, terribly handsome with wide eyes and full lips half-parted, brows raised as he looked down at me like a peculiar creature to study. Kim Seokjin.

When I took a moment to really look at him, there wasn’t a single thing I didn’t like. From the caramel top of his head to the bits of smooth forehead that showed through his hair to his playful round eyes to his lopsided half-smile.

“You okay?” he asked, leaning down at the waist to examine me.

My back went rigid and I coughed a little, slamming my book shut and standing to my feet. “I…I was about to leave,” I said without looking directly at him. If I did, I might embarrass myself again.

He chuckled and watched me shove my things into my satchel haphazardly, edges of paper sticking out at odd angles and several book corners straining against the canvas fabric. With a bow, I walked past him in the narrow aisle, careful not to touch him.

“Take care!” he called, whistling as he wandered back toward the register in the corner. He greeted the customer waiting there with a smile.

I watched from the doorway for a moment, scanning him in profile. Even his shapeless maroon bookstore smock looked handsome on him. He nodded gently as the customer made idle conversation, the two of them chatting easily. He placed her books into a paper bag and slid them across the counter, resting his chin in his hand and raising his eyes to offer his full attention. The customer, a young girl maybe a few years my senior, flushed just a little and a nervous smile spread across her face, eyes flitting around as she avoided his gaze.

I sighed and pushed the front door open, exiting to the sound of the overhead bell.

“You smell like bad coffee,” remarked Gaeul as I fell onto the plush living room couch.

She sat in front of the TV on the floor, criss-crossed, nursing a can of lukewarm beer as reruns of Produce 48 droned on. “Went to the bookstore,” I mumbled into a pillow, laying face-down on my stomach with my legs bent against the arm of the couch.

She reached back and gave my arm a smack before returning her attention to the screen. “Stupid,” she said.

I sighed and nodded, reaching out my fingers toward her. Without saying a word, she handed me her can and I took a greedy sip, wincing as the stuff slid down my throat. I bumped the can against her shoulder once I was finished and silently she retrieved it. I let my arm dangle, fingers brushing the plastic-covered floor, and shut my eyes.

“Did you talk to him?”

“Mhm.”

“What’d you say?” she asked.

I opened one eye. “Something dumb.”

She nodded, gaze glued to the television. “Predictable,” she said.

I inhaled slowly, glancing toward the new mural she was working on. A nature scene, the wall behind the TV was now dedicated to a half-finished paint project Gaeul had started the week after I moved in. Green pine trees were poking through grayish fog that ended abruptly where the unpainted white wall began. She’d been following a Bob Ross tutorial after seeing a video of someone else doing it online, but lacked the followthrough to see it to completion. The floor was still covered in plastic tarps from the living room to the kitchen, and each step crinkled, but it made cleaning easier. Consider cleaning your rent, Gaeul had said when she agreed to take me in, At least until you get a job.

“Wanna order in?” she asked, eyes affixed to the television.

We’d ordered in more times in the last few weeks here than we ever had at our parents’ house, mostly because of me. Chinese food containers formed skyscrapers in the recycling bin and not one of Gaeul’s nice ceramic plates had seen use since I moved in.

I sighed, shutting my eyes once more, and gave a defeated nod. “Yeah,” I said.

I washed my hands in the quiet restroom at Hyejin’s Books, trying not to look too long at my gaunt reflection in the mirror. Since moving, my skin had gone lackluster from lack of time outside and my once-long hair was now chopped short, curling from the beach town humidity, sticking up around my shoulders. Why’d you cut it? Gaeul had asked upon my arrival at her apartment. I hadn’t answered, only shrugged. After all, how was I supposed to explain to my sister that cutting it off felt like the only thing I could do? The only thing that made me feel like I was moving forward, even a little?

I adjusted my round rims on my nose bridge and patted my flushed cheeks, nodding once as I turned on my heel toward the exit. But as my fingers clasped around the doorknob, I heard a distinctive sniffle coming from the farthest stall. My back stiffened. Was someone crying? I swallowed hard, body like firm glass, and waited with bated breath for the sound to come again. Had I been preening in that bathroom while this stranger cried? All along?

I peeked over my shoulder, just a little, and bent enough to see the ground beneath the stalls. Indeed, a pair of sneakered feet rested on the polished linoleum, and a person sitting on the ground attached to them. I swallowed hard and lingered in the doorway, awaiting another sniffle, another sign of distress.

But none came. Just silence.

And despite my misgivings, I simply exhaled and absolved myself of guilt. Whoever they were, they didn’t want to be bothered or they’d be making themselves known. I didn’t want to risk upsetting them further, or earning someone’s anger. I pushed the door open and made my way out into the narrow hallway, my mind hanging back in that bathroom.

Gently, I repositioned my meager belongings — wallet, glasses case, memo pad — back into my bag with a sigh. Seokjin wasn’t working, and while he wasn’t the only reason to come to a lazy bookstore and kill time, a place where I knew I wouldn’t be in anybody’s way, he was a big part of why I braved the two-block walk along a busy main street nearly every day. How pathetic. I stared down at the tan skin of my hands, still poised to shove a book or two in my bag, and sighed. What use were hands if they were idle?

I shook my head. A flash of that endless darkness crossed my mind. If I thought too much about my disappointments I’d have the bad dream.

But as I turned on my heel and stepped into the walkway, I heard the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching. Perhaps if I’d have been more alert, the sound would have made me pause, but my mind still lingered on that sniffle. I was making something out of nothing, right? It wasn’t even my business, really. If they wanted to cry in a bookstore, they had that right, didn’t they? Who was I to pry anyway? And what if asking if they were okay made them mad at me?

My body collided with someone else’s. Someone solid, with more flesh and height than I had.

“Ah!” exclaimed a voice from in front of me, too loud for the mellow bookstore.

Another bookstore employee, the girl was holding a beautiful potted plant in her gentle hands, and as if in slow motion, she was swaying back on her heels from the force of our collision. With long, pin-straight black hair and a crooked smile, she was the goofy sort of pretty that made you feel at ease. Or at least, it should make you feel at ease. Unfortunately, looking at her now as she peered down at me with wide, chestnut eyes and lips forming a surprised ‘O’ I felt nothing short of panicked. She swung her hand out, seeking purchase, and clasped hard onto the strap of my satchel.

“Ah, sor-,” I began, voice weak, but before I could continue I heard the distinctive rrrriiiiip of fabric tearing apart.

Too late.

I didn’t even have time to mourn the torn-open satchel because with her pulling so hard in one direction and me still walking in the other, when the tether between us snapped she ended up yanking me down with her. Arms flailing as they scrambled to cushion my fall, my knuckles brushed something hard and another upsetting noise ripped through the quiet store, like someone had thrust open the emergency exit on a plane.

Crash!

I sat on my hands and knees, eyes wide and watering and focused on the ground in front of me to avoid looking at the ground beside me where I knew the carnage lie. Out of my peripheral, however, I saw the unmistakable array of broken pottery, mingling with moist soil and prematurely torn leaves. It seems my momentum had been strong enough to cause a casualty, and I’d grabbed the beautiful potted plant she’d been trying to protect on the way down.

“Oh no!” she cried, horror etched into her gentle features.

The two of us lie in a heap, limbs tangled, belongings strewn about in all directions. My heart was racing, face hot. I eyed the broken pot as it lay splayed out on the ground beside my fingertips. The shock and embarrassment had rendered me immobile, sitting slack-jawed on all fours, eyes wide. Why had I done that? Why hadn’t I contained my fall? Why couldn’t I keep from being in somebody’s way?

“Shoot…,” she mumbled as she scrambled toward the wreckage on her knees. She began collecting the jagged clay pieces, but before she could handle too many I jumped and clasped her hands to stop her. “Huh?” she asked, eyes round as she turned to me.

“You’ll cut yourself,” I said, eyes on the pieces.

I pursed my lips and turned the remains of my satchel upside down, wrapping my hands in the canvas as my belongings rolled around the floor, adding to the mess. I collected the pieces in my covered palm, holding the bigger chunks between my index finger and thumb.

“Thanks,” said the girl, her voice low as she used her smock to help. “I’m sorry for grabbing you on the way down.”

I shook my head, letting my mind focus on the pieces instead of the palpitations of my heart, the sweat gathering in my palms. Doctor Kim said when I felt it coming, I could circumvent it with enough focus. Just…focus on something else. So I did, watching with an almost catatonic gaze as my hands worked on their own accord, independent of my will.

“This thing was kinda expensive…,” she mumbled, sighing as I deposited the pieces I’d collected into the hamper she’d made of her smock. “I bet they’ll take it outta my pay.”

I swallowed hard and nodded, struggling to track her words as they left her mouth. Folks around the shop were staring now, spectating. It was hard to find something else to focus on when all I could think of was disappearing right then and there.

“Anyway, thanks for helping,” she said with a soft smile.

“Uh, yeah,” I said, nodding and pushing to my feet.

“I really am sorry,” she said, helping gather my things from around the floor.

I swallowed hard. “It’s okay.” I kept my eyes on the ground, eager to disappear from that book store and find a new place to spend my endless days.

I collected my things and carried them awkwardly in front of my stomach. I glanced around and found that every patron had paused their individual activities to watch the show. My throat constricted and my breaths became slightly more shallow. Before I could think too hard, I rushed out the door and down the stairs.

I sat by myself on a swing, all alone in a big, sprawling park. I’d only just turned seven, and the world seemed all at once too big and too small for me. Gaeul told me to wait for her there, wait until she was done with soccer practice so we could walk home together. But as sunset began to bleed across the sky in red and purple, the shadows started to look too long, the trees rustling too loud in the breeze. Picking at the skin around my fingernails, I slouched over my knees, eyes on the sand below that my toes couldn’t quite reach. My throat felt a little tight, and swallowing didn’t fix it any.

“Byul!” called Gaeul as she ran down the sidewalk toward me, waving her arms above her head with a gummy grin.

Upon seeing her, I smiled and slid off the swing. I ran to meet her halfway. “How was practice?” I asked, slurring a little with my missing front tooth.

She whistled and rested both hands on her hips with the smile of a champion, cleats tied and slung over her shoulder, kneepads slid down to her ankles. She was skinny, like a waif, knobby knees emerging from beneath too-big gym shorts. But to me, she looked like a superhero with the sun silhouetting her. My big sister, here to save me.

I hadn’t learned yet that there were things even she couldn’t save me from.

“Nevermind that,” she said, waving a hand with a loud laugh that crashed and echoed against the trees. “Jaehyun’s mom gave me some money for helping out with her lawn. Let’s go get some snacks at Auntie’s!”

My eyes went wide at the mention of food and I beamed up at her. Her round face was flushed, hair a mess, eyes nearly invisible with the force of her smile. And I knew that, if I had her around, I’d be okay.

“Let’s go through the woods!” said Gaeul, sliding past me on the playground path and pointing with one spindly arm towards the line of trees ringing the west side.

I stared into the rapidly darkening forest, squinting into its depths. It seemed the longer I looked, the deeper the woods became, and despite having played in those woods enough to know them like the back of my hand, something about it felt a little ominous that day.

I should’ve listened to my instincts.

“Let’s go!” called Gaeul as she jogged toward the tree line, leaving me to toddle cautiously in her wake.

I awoke with a start and stared at the analog clock on my wall. Squinting against the barely breaking morning outside my window, I saw the time. 4:03. My fingers found the empty bridge of my nose and squeezed. I grabbed for my glasses and slid them on, rubbing my jaw. There was no hope of falling asleep again, not after a dream like that.

At least it wasn’t the bad dream.

I stretched in bed and gave my fleshy thighs a squeeze, massaging the tension out of them with my fingers. My body had a tendency to seize up during dreams. Doctor Kim said it was because of my fitful sleeping habits, and that seemed to make enough sense. But it had certainly been a while since I’d felt these cramps.

I sighed, pushing myself out of bed and padding in my socks toward my yet unpacked luggage. I rifled through the clothes I’d been cycling for weeks, some of them washed and some not, and settled on an old Nirvana shirt Dad gave me before I left and a pair of shorts that allowed the warm air to unknot the cramps in my legs. Tiptoeing out onto the tarp-covered living room floor, I made my way to the front door and slipped on a pair of tennis shoes, not bothering to tie them, and slid a baseball cap on my head.

With a glance over my shoulder at the still, quiet apartment, I stepped out into the hallway and made my way to the stairwell.

Walking helped the muscles loosen up, and after thirty minutes of wandering the dawn-drenched alleyways and sidewalks around Gaeul’s apartment, my body felt relaxed again. Dawn was a nice time of day. Nobody was out yet, the businesspeople still tucked in bed, the late night wanderers making their ways home. It was just me, the lilac morning, the sleeping city, and the ground beneath my untied shoes.

Well, and the sound of jazzy lofi.

As I rounded the corner toward the arts district, about a block from Hyejin’s, I heard the muffled sound of music bumping quietly from an open window on the first floor of a narrow shop, nestled between two tall, windowed buildings. The storefront looked a little out of place in such a modern area. In fact, it probably suited the beachfront more with its brown shutters and faded turquoise paint. I approached it slowly, rubbing my bleary eyes to get a proper look at it. Who was up and working at this hour?

Park’s Pottery.

The sign was old, weathered, propped out over the sidewalk to attract attention from passers by. Well, it certainly attracted my attention. I wandered closer to the open window and peeked inside. I scanned the dim shop with a squint. It was small, but crammed with vases and teapots and bowls. Floor to ceiling were metal racks housing all manner of trinkets. The walls were adorned with tapestries, paintings, and posters from all over the place, and the floor was home to several elegant rugs, all splattered with dried clay. To the right of the front window was a cash register and to the left was an alcove with a bright, yellow warehouse light. That was the source of the music.

I crept a little closer, placing my hands on the windowpane, and craned my neck to see better. In that alcove was a spinning table and, with his back hunched over it, a young man with a bandana holding his hair off his shiny forehead. I raised my brows as I got a better look at him in profile. Dark hair and focused, serious eyes, he had cherubic cheeks and pouty lips as he worked his hands over the clay, smoothing it as it spun in rapid circles. His fingers looked capable, certain as they molded the material, occasionally dipping into a bowl of sludgy water and returning with biceps straining. It was almost like a dance. The hypnotic motions had me in a trance. He seemed so sure of himself, so confident. In control.

I didn’t even notice when the music stopped.

But he did.

He turned his head sharply toward the desk behind him and stared at his cell phone with a sigh. He sure was pretty. But before I could admire the stranger properly, his smart, dark eyes were upon me, sweeping naturally from his phone back to his clay. I stiffened in the windowsill and, as he opened his mouth and widened his eyes, I jumped and ran down the sidewalk, pumping my arms.

What was I, a criminal?

I sprinted quickly, squeezing my eyes shut as embarrassment turned my skin into hot leather. Great, I thought, another place I have to avoid.

“Wait!” called a high, gentle voice from behind me.

I turned to glance at the stranger as he exited the building, leaving the front door swinging behind him. He took off in a jog after me, fists clenched and still dripping with wet clay. I flushed and ran faster, desperate to avoid this awkward confrontation. My throat was closing, and not from the running. Each time I glanced over my shoulder, the stranger was right there, just a few paces behind me.

As I forced myself to run faster, I felt something tug at my ankle and before I could react, the untied lace from my right shoe was trapped beneath my left foot and I went sailing through the air. I flew for a foot or two before skidding to a stop on my bare knees, crying out in pain as my palms collided with the rough concrete. Wincing, I examined my hands and let out a strangled yelp as I found the skin had begun to peel away, revealing a layer of blood.

“Shit! You okay?” asked the same voice from behind me.

Heart hammering, I kept my head low, face obscured by my baseball cap, and nodded my head. “Mhm.”

I felt him approaching as he squatted beside me, glancing over my shoulder. “Ah,” he exhaled with a sigh. “Come back with me. I’ve got a first aid kit.”

I made no move to leave my spot, sitting on my skinned knees. But the young man was persistent and, upon seeing my reluctance, huffed and grabbed me by the crook of my elbow, leaving fingerprints of clay on my skin. Without a word, he led the way back to his pottery shop and I followed like a scolded child.

Well, at least the city was still asleep.

The young man kept his serious dark eyes trained on my hands as he applied several large bandages to them. He’d already taken care of my knees, and had demanded I sit in front of the pottery wheel while he took his time dressing my wounds. After what felt like an eternity in that dark shop, he finally spoke.

“Why’d you run away?” he asked.

I stiffened. Why had I? “I…,” I began, then shook my head. My heart rate had slowly returned to normal with the passage of time, and despite this man being a stranger I felt at ease around him. Probably because he hadn’t properly looked me in the eye. “I got nervous.”

He chuckled and patted my palm, glancing toward his half-finished work on the wheel behind me. “Nervous?” he asked.

“I was watching you through your window,” I said with a sigh. “Kinda creepy.”

He glanced at me for only a moment before shutting his eyes and offering a shrug and an easy smile. “I like having an audience,” he said.

I eyed him, his soft face, his slim shoulders and the dirty smock he had draped over them. He didn’t look like a potter. “Are you an employee?” I asked.

He opened his eyes and raised his brows. “Me?” he asked, then laughed and waved his freshly cleaned hands. “No, I own this place.”

I felt my eyes go wide, but tried to manage my expression. “You’re…you’re pretty young to own a pottery shop.”

He smiled. “Twenty-four,” he said with a nod. “It’s a family business, but my dad retired and handed the place down to me.”

I hummed as I glanced around. It sure was rustic. But charming nonetheless. Like a relic lost to time. “Your pieces are pretty,” I remarked as I scanned the racks.

He hummed, patting his thighs with a nod. “Well, after so long learning I’d sure hope my wares are good.”

“You get a lot of customers?” I asked, peeking at him out the corner of my eye. This was the longest conversation I’d had with anyone since moving out here, and for some reason I was reluctant to cut it short.

He chuckled and rubbed his jaw. “Mhm,” he said. “Why else would I be out here so early?”

“You work all day?”

“Nearly.”

“Every day?”

He smiled and met my eyes. “Nearly.”

“Wow,” I mumbled as I took in the shop from this new angle. I sighed. “Must be nice.”

“Hm?”

“Having something to do.”

I felt his eyes on me as my own eyes wandered, catching on little details all throughout the shop. A painting of Venus beside the door, a bare lightbulb, unlit, dangling from the ceiling beside the checkout counter, the frayed edge of a red and purple rug. I wasn’t sure what he was thinking, wasn’t even sure what I was thinking, but wordlessly I felt him shift as he sat on a crate in front of me.

“You wanna take something with you?” he asked quietly, lilting voice barely above a whisper in the silent shop.

I raised my brows. “Can you do that?”

He shrugged. “My shop.”

I chuckled and nodded. “I guess that’s true,” I said, sighing as I pushed myself to my feet. The young man joined me and gestured with one swooping hand toward the racks.

“Choose whatever you want,” he said, walking beside me as he weaved his way through the aisles. My gaze landed on a particularly beautiful flower pot sitting at eye level, just beside the throwing table. “Teapots are over here. Bowls are over there. Got a few-,”

“I want this,” I said, reaching for the pot with two careful hands.

He blinked a few times and met my eyes from the other side of the rack. “Oh,” he said, then nodded. “Alright.”

I ran my fingers over the flower pot. It had been intricately carved with swirling roses and twisting vines, leaves floating everywhere. It was definitely prettier than the one I broke, that much was certain. It looked about the right size. Hopefully they hadn’t already bought a new one.

Well, if they did I could just keep the thing for myself.

I offered the young man a tight-lipped smile and bowed my head, excusing myself to the exit. He followed beside me, eyeing the pot in my hands with a curious expression. Once in the doorway, I turned to him and gave one more bow.

“I’m sorry for spying on you,” I said, meeting his eyes carefully.

He smiled and, lucky for me, his eyes nearly disappeared. “Don’t worry,” he said. “Stop by again sometime. Maybe you can buy something.”

I nodded and smiled at the flower pot. “I will.”

“I’m Jimin, by the way. Park Jimin,” he said, holding out a hand for me to shake.

I hoisted the flower pot up on my hip and took his warm hand, shaking twice. “Nice to meet you,” I said. “I’m Lee Eunbyul.”

He smiled again. “Pleasure,” he said, waving as I slipped out the front door. “Hope to see you again soon, Eunbyul.”

I slipped through the front door of Hyejin’s Bookstore, still holding the flower pot close. I’d waited an hour for the shop to open and, allowing the morning staff a ten minute grace period to set up shop, was the first patron to enter. The shop housed two stories of books and, navigating the stacks expertly like a covert agent, I maneuvered my way to the second floor unbeknownst to the two opening employees. I hadn’t had the time to figure out which ones they were, but from the broad back and chestnut hair of the man standing at the coffee maker I was pretty sure I could guess at least one.

God, of course. During my most important stealth mission, my Kryptonite shows up.

Nonetheless, I tiptoed toward the register and, using the sides of my fingers as cushions, set the flower pot down beside the register with a wince. By then, several other patrons had begun filing in, braving the steep stairs to the second floor and lining up beside the ancient coffee machine. I kept an eye on everyone, but mostly Seokjin as he restocked the paper cups and coffee stirrers. Once I was certain the pot was placed perfectly, I took a half-step back and glanced over my shoulder at Seokjin, still unaware of my presence.

His hair was quaffed out of his face today, styled to reveal his forehead, and his skin was practically glowing. I wasn’t sure if I was more jealous or in love with the guy. Sighing, I wandered lazily toward my favorite spot by the window, resting my hands palms-down on the tabletop. A few moments passed in silence before I heard someone speak.

“Oh…,” breathed a voice from the register.

To my dismay, there stood the same girl from the day before, eyes wide as she stared at the intricate, detailed flower pot with wonder-filled eyes. She turned it around a few times, appraising it, before smiling softly and scoffing once. She swept her gaze around the bookstore and I let my head fall downwards, heart racing. If she spotted me, I was cooked. She’d know for certain who had left it there.

“Jin!” she called with a disbelieving laugh.

Seokjin jogged over toward his coworker at the register and, rolling up the cuffs of his white button-down, glanced down toward the pot. “Whoa!” he exclaimed, grinning. “Someone left it here?”

“Seems like it,” replied the girl, smiling stupefied at the gift. “I was just about to buy a new one after work.”

I had to admit to a little swell of pride at that expression. It felt good to do good, that’s what Dad always said. And even though the pot was just repayment for the broken one, I felt a little piece inside me slip back into place. Like cogs in a clock.

“Huh,” said Seokjin, and without warning his eyes found me.

I stiffened, ready to make a run for it, but was stunned into stillness as our gazes locked and his handsome face broke into a small, knowing smile. “Seems like someone’s looking out for you,” he said gently, still smiling my way.

I cleared my throat and glanced out the window at the pastel morning sky, resting my burning cheek in my hand and allowing my mind to wander to the faraway clouds that ringed the horizon.

I’m dreaming, I thought to myself as I examined my hands, the fuzzy edges where my brain tried and failed to remember the finer details. Last thing I remembered was falling asleep in bed. What had Doctor Kim said? If you know it’s a dream, you can wake yourself up if you try hard enough. I tried hard to feel my body, the mattress beneath it, the covers I’d kicked off of it in the middle of the night. I tried to reason myself back into a physical space, out of this dark, cold, colorless void. But the more I struggled, the more suffocating the darkness felt. I squeezed my eyes shut, but like when I was young I could find no solace in the pitch-dark backs of my eyelids.

“Alright, alright,” I said aloud with a nod, shaking out my hands. I glanced around the void for a moment, eyes scanning the depths. “Detail, detail,” I said. I managed my breathing. “Doctor Kim said to find a detail.”

I scanned the darkness, searching for something, anything, that stood out. Something that clued me in to this being a dream. Something I could use to shake my brain out of sleep. I took a tentative step forward, or rather what might have been a step, and felt the same cool air I always felt in this void. My throat was constricting the longer I spent in here.

“Detail,” I said, squeezing my eyes shut. I begged for it. I longed for it so hard I wondered if I could simply will it into existence. “A tear,” I began. “Or a fray.” I scoffed as determined tears marched down my cheeks. “A fucking shoelace!” I shouted into the nothing.

Frustrated, I fell backwards onto my bottom and submitted to the sobs that began wracking my frame. The chill bit my exposed skin and raised goosebumps on my arms. “Jesus,” I said aloud, rubbing them down through tears. “For a dream, this shit is too realistic.”

I sniffled and stared around me at the darkness. When I was young, I used to search for the end of it. I walked for what felt like miles in one direction each night, wandering endlessly until eventually I woke up.

I never did find the end.

“Because there is no end,” I mumbled to myself, kicking my toe into the nothing beneath my cold bare feet.

“Yes there is.”

I screamed and jumped upright, scrambling backwards away from the voice behind me. Gasping for breath with my heart hammering, I peeled my eyes open and saw to my horror and immense relief…

A young man.

Standing about six feet tall with kind, dark brown eyes and a dimpled smile, the man seemed…inexplicably gentle. He stood dressed in plaid pajama pants and an old t-shirt, no shoes like me, honey-blonde hair sitting like a mop atop his head, standing in all directions. He yawned and scratched his jaw, eyes half-shut. Had my brain conjured another person to keep me company?

For the first time, I wasn’t alone in here…

I adjusted my posture, staring at him for what felt like a long, desperate moment. And, without meaning to, I rushed toward him and wrapped trembling fingers around his arm. Despite my expectations, he was real. Tangible. My fingers clamped down on actual flesh. They didn’t pass through. A fresh wave of emotion swept me up and carried me away and wordlessly, hot tears rolled like raindrops down my cheeks. Still holding on to his arm, I dipped my head, leaning it against his firm chest, and sobbed.

Startled, he tried to step away from me, but I was putting too much weight on him. He coughed a little before, almost reluctantly, he raised a hand and patted my shoulder.

“Ah…um…it’s okay…?” he said, trailing off.

I sniffled. “I can’t believe it.”

“Hm?”

“Detail,” I mumbled, wiping my messy eyes on his white shirt.

“Ah!” he shouted as I leaned away and he saw the wet spots. “Oh shoot.” He freed his arm from my grasp so he could pat the stains with the pads of his fingers.

I sniffled and stared up at him, juxtaposed against the unfathomable darkness, eyes downturned to focus on his shirt. “You’re not real, are you?” I asked slowly, edging away. My brain wasn’t tidy enough to worry about a stained shirt…

So whatever he was, he couldn’t be from me.

His eyes flashed back toward me, sweet, heavy-lidded, pupils huge in the dark. “I…yes? Are you?” he asked, then squinted at me with those sweet eyes. “Have you been crying for a while? You’re very red.”

I blinked at him and took a half-step back, not trusting myself to speak again. I glanced down at my bare legs, covered only by frumpy panties and a big shirt, and tried to subtly guide the hemline down the skin of my thighs.

“You…you’re really a real person? Really?” I asked.

He chuckled. “Really really.”

I furrowed my brow and examined him from where I stood several inches shorter. His cheeks went pink under my scrutiny, but it was incomprehensible to me. “I’ve been having these dreams since I was seven and I’ve never seen another person,” I said.

He raised his brows. “Seven?” he asked. “Huh.” He peered down at me. “How old are you now?”

“Does that matter?”

“I’m just trying to make sense of it too,” he said, watching me carefully.

I sighed. “Twenty-two,” I said.

“I’m twenty-four…,” he said with a hum, rubbing his jaw with his right hand. Something about him was oddly intellectual, like he had answers to any question I could conjure. But my heart was still racing, my palms still slick with sweat. No matter how forthcoming he was, he was still a stranger in my dream. “Guess it doesn’t have to do with age. Maybe time?”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, frustrated.

He glanced at me before squinting into the darkness. “Well I started having these dreams at age nine,” he began, eyeing me. “Same time you did. I was just two years older.”

“So?”

“Maybe it’s connected?” he asked with a shrug.

“Doctor Kim said-,” I began, then stopped myself short, clamping my mouth shut. I crossed my arms and sighed. “It’s trauma-based. This whole thing.”

“Is it?”

I glanced at him. “Isn’t it?”

He smiled. “I’m not so sure,” he said, then sighed and took a step forward. “Why’s it so dark here?”

“You’ve been having these dreams since you were nine and you don’t know it’s gonna be dark?” I asked, cocking a brow as I sat down on the nothing beneath me.

He blinked at me. “Wait, it’s always like this for you?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Is there anything else it could be?”

He scoffed and crossed his arms, disbelief etched into his features. “Well,” he began, glancing around. “It can be anything, really.”

“Huh?”

Before I could interrogate him further, the blackness around began to give way to something else. Like spilling paint across a canvas, vibrant colors began to bleed from behind the stranger’s back, extending forward toward me. A frightened cry escaped me and I leapt to my feet, scuttling away from the colors as they spread like a drink tipped over. At first, the colors seemed shapeless but as they grew the image began to clear up, revealing soft edges and patterns and before I knew it I was standing on a beach, golden sand between my bare toes, purplish ocean rising and falling behind the man’s back as an invisible tide drew waves against the shore.

Tears pricked my eyes as I stumbled back once again, only this time I felt the warm sand beneath me, cushioning my fall. Gaping, I sat with my legs bent awkwardly on the shoreline’s slope, staring at the endless ocean and the cliffside forming a ring around the beach.

“W-w-what the hell is this?!” I screamed, and my voice didn’t echo, it just seeped through the landscape, swallowed by the sound of the waves. My tears returned, trailing hot down my face.

The stranger approached and crouched beside me, eyes wide. “Shit, I didn’t mean to scare you or anything! It’s just-,”

“Wh-what the fuck are you?” I asked, hands trembling violently. “I-I-I’ve never s-seen it do that.”

He blinked at me, genuine worry in his soft eyes, and shook his head. “I’m sorry. I thought you could do it too.”

“Do what?”

“Control it.”

“Control what?”

“The dream.”

I swiped a hand across my face, wiping my tears, and glanced around the beach. The longer I looked, the more beautiful it was. Like a snapshot in time. The sky was drenched in shades of lilac and amber and the sun seemed to live perpetually against the horizon line, never dipping below. A never-ending sunset. When I inhaled, I could even smell the salty seawater and fresh summertime air.

“What’s your name?” asked the stranger, coming to an uneasy crouch beside me.

I turned my wild eyes toward him and blinked. “Eunbyul,” I said weekly. “Lee Eunbyul.”

He smiled gently and held out his hands for me to shake. I was struck by the memory of Jimin from earlier that morning. Was this perhaps all he was? A manifestation of my memories of the day? “Kim Namjoon,” he said as he clasped his hand around my bandaged palm. “This is a first for me too, you know,” he said as he fell onto his bottom by my thigh.

I glanced at him. “What?”

“Having someone else here,” he said with a chuckle. “Not that I think you’re real.”

“I’m not real?” I asked, eyes wide, as I pointed a finger toward my chest.

He raised his brows. “Well how could you be? It’s not like this is a different dimension. It’s just my dream, right?”

“It’s my dream,” I said. “Listen, you’re really freaking me out.”

He turned to me with a furrowed brow. “Then you’re real? Are you sure?” He then rolled his eyes and rested his chin in his hand. “Stupid question. If you’re something I made up then of course you’re gonna say you’re real.”

“I’m a real person, Namjoon,” I said seriously, meeting his eyes. “I have a sister named Gaeul and a mom named Iseul and a dad named Doyeon. I’m from Sangdo-dong-,”

“You’re from Sangdo-dong?” he asked, eyes wide.

I nodded. “Yeah,” I said, timid pinned underneath his incriminating gaze.

He furrowed his brow and crossed his arms. “Huh.”

“Do you believe me?”

“I don’t know.”

“How can I prove it?” I asked.

He eyed me. “I don’t know.”

I swallowed hard. “Do I really seem like just character you dreamed up?” I asked, rubbing my eyes. “Do you really think your brain is that powerful?”

At this he chuckled and a little bit of the tension I’d been holding in my gut dissolved. I glanced at him, bathed in gentle dying sunlight, and found my proof. There was no way my mind could conjure someone like him. Something magnificent like this scene. I wasn’t equipped like he was.

“How did you do it?” I asked quietly, still scanning his fine features, his honeyed skin.

He raised his brows. “I don’t know how to explain it. I just kind of…do it,” he said with a nod.

I blinked. “That’s super unhelpful.”

He laughed. “Well…I guess the best I can do is say…think of a vivid memory, something really sensory, and try to put yourself there.”

“So you’ve been here before?” I asked, glancing around.

He smiled. “It’s a beach in the town where I live,” he said softly. “I came here when I graduated high school. All alone. And I just watched the waves until night came.”

“And what if I want to go to…I don’t know, Barbados?” I asked.

He laughed, a vibrant, bellowing sound, and his eyes squeezed shut. He hooked his elbows around his knees and grinned at the skyline. “Then I’d say study up.”

“Have you ever done it? Created a place you’ve never been to?” I asked, my curiosity forcing my inhibitions to rest.

He hummed. “Once or twice, but it’s harder. Gotta know what you want to see like the back of your hand for it to work.”

“And you do this every time?”

“Mhm,” he said with an easy smile. “A lucid dream is defined as a dream during which dreamers, while dreaming, are aware they are dreaming,” he said, sounding like an encyclopedia. Like he had it memorized. “That’s what specialists say.”

“So this is just a lucid dream to you?”

“Is it not a lucid dream to you?” he asked, raising his brows.

I blinked, mouth agape, and returned my eyes to the sea. “I never thought of it that way,” I said quietly, picking at the skin around my nails. “I guess since I couldn’t control them…”

He smiled. “But you can,” he said. “It’s your dream after all.”

I turned to him, brows furrowed, and exhaled slowly. “It’s my dream…,” I repeated with a nod. I turned to glance at the ocean. “I think I figured out a way to prove I’m real.”

“Mm?”

“If I can show you something you’ve never seen…that would be enough, right?” I asked, watching the waves lapping the shore.

He smiled. “I suppose.”

I nodded and squeezed my eyes shut. I focused on all my senses. The scent of old wood, pancakes cooking in the kitchen, far away. The feeling of Mom’s quilt beneath my fingertips, the cool air-conditioning blowing strands of hair around my face. The sound of muffled conversation through the walls, footsteps falling through the wood-floored hallways. The way my bed looked, tucked in a corner beside the window, white sheer curtains blowing with the breeze that Mom scolded me for letting in, the dresser in the corner, the narrow door, my box of toys half-open by the bed. I saw and felt it all so vividly I was certain that when I opened my eyes-

There it was.

I blinked at the dark wood paneling of my childhood bedroom, the beams criss-crossing overhead, the shiny floor. A few scoffing breaths escaped my lips in uneasy puffs, but before I could say a single thing, a voice retrieved me from my reverie.

“Wow,” said Namjoon from beside me.

And with that, the illusion crumbled and my bedroom faded away like sand through my fingertips. The image slipped in the blink of an eye, leaving behind only the black emptiness of nothing, all around us. I swallowed the lump in my throat and stared at the blackness for a few tense seconds. It had been there. My room had really, truly been there right before my eyes. I could feel it, smell it, touch it. Like I was right there.

I glanced at Namjoon and found him smirking at me. “Well,” he said with a chuckle. “I’ve certainly never seen that before.”

Before I could reply, I felt a vague tugging sensation in my chest, like I was being yanked from the inside. “Oh,” I breathed.

He glanced down at his own chest and nodded. “Yeah, me too.”

“W-wait!” I called, resisting the pull and reaching my desperate, clinging hands out to him once more. I grabbed his forearm in my hands and stared up at him, pleading. “I…I don’t wanna go yet,” I said, shaking my head. “I have so much to ask you.”

He smiled gently and gave my hand a pat. “It was nice to meet you, Eunbyul,” he said, taking a step away from me and breaking the tether of my grip. My hands fell to my sides and the pull became too strong to fight.

“Namjoon!” I called, but my voice was fading and so was he. “I’ll come back! I swear!”

“Maybe we’ll see each other again,” he said with an echoing laugh. “Maybe even in real life.”

I felt like I might cry again. So much had happened in one night. The fear I’d always harbored for this dark nightmare was all but gone. In its wake, anticipation so great it threatened to sweep me away like the inescapable force of a tide.

I awoke panting, sweat beading along my hairline. I swallowed hard past the dryness in my throat and reached for my water bottle, removing my glasses from the bridge of my nose and slipping them onto the table. I usually didn’t sleep with those things on. I drank greedily, shutting my eyes, and ran a hand through my hair before collapsing once more against the cushion of my bed. 4:03.

I huffed and set the bottle aside, lying still on my back and staring at the fuzzy outline of the ceiling, unable to see it properly with my glasses.

Again, I was awake before the sun.

Only this time, I couldn’t remember what sort of dream had woken me up.

#namjoon fanfic #namjoon fanfiction #namjoon fluff #namjoon angst #namjoon au #bts series #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bts reactions #bts imagine #bts reaction #bts fluff #bts angst #namjoon x oc #bts x oc #bts au fanfic #bts au

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checkbio-i-moved-accounts · 6 years ago

Text

Little White Lie

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Words: 10.5k (rip)

Summary: What starts out as a small lie for the sake of your friendship spirals a bit out of control. How will you get yourself out of this one? (College!AU)

Warnings: Angst ahead. Proceed with caution.

A/N: I’ve been working on this for a while I am so so so excited to finally post it! I hope you enjoy! <3

Waking up was very low on the list of things you liked to do, but today it especially sucked. The unpleasant taste of last night’s many mixed drinks lingered in your mouth and your head throbbed lightly. The birds outside chirping up a storm didn’t help the migraine either. It was then you remembered the party last night that you attended with your best friend, Hoseok. The moment Chi Omega announced a party at their place, Hoseok had all but begged you to go with him and you weren’t going to turn him down. However, considering the fact the loud bass from last night seems to still be resonating in your head, you ponder if turning him down would’ve been a smarter choice. Too little too late now, you already went and had to deal with the repercussions.

The first thing you noticed when you opened your eyes was this wasn’t your apartment. That was made apparent by the lack of decor on the white wall you were looking at. You groan and try to stretch before immediately regretting that decision. If the soreness in your legs and the slight ache in your back was anything to go by, you fucked someone last night and it was good. That makes a small smile spread across your face, here’s to hoping they were at least cute. You made another attempt to stretch yourself and were more successful this time around. Your back cracks and you let out a small appreciative sound before turning over to see if your catch of the night was still here. The sight of a sleeping Hoseok with the sheets draped over his stomach was the last thing you expected to see. You became painfully aware of everything around you, any sort of grogginess dissipating as you realize the weight of the situation at hand.

You look down at your bare chest and noticed the marks that littered your torso. You scan the room and see your dress thrown on the floor, along with your panties. Hoseok’s shirt and bucket hat were on his computer chair. Your stomach turned when you noticed his boxers hanging off a lamp. You were 99% sure if you lifted the covers, you’d find Hoseok was as naked as you are. You could only come to one conclusion.

You had sex with your best friend last night.

You’ve always wanted to be intimate with Hoseok but not like this, not a drunken hookup that you couldn’t even remember. Panic started setting in when Hoseok started stirring next to you. As you watched him nuzzle more into the pillow under him, you begged all the forces in the universe to keep him asleep. It seems whoever was out there heard your plea because Hoseok stayed in his state of slumber. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding as you rubbed your temples.

What now? Do you stay? Do you leave? Do you wake him? You didn’t know what to do, but as you remember the state of panic you were almost sent into over Hoseok waking up there’s one thing that sets into your mind.

He can’t know you two had sex.

It would ruin your years of friendship and make things weird. You didn’t want to lose him. That’s the main reason why you never told him your feelings in the first place. So as quickly and quietly as you could, you redressed and exited the apartment you frequently visited.

Within 15 minutes you were inside your apartment. With a long sigh you dropped your bag to the floor and kicked off your shoes. You flopped down face first onto the couch, not noticing your roommate Tatum sitting in the kitchen with a cup of coffee. Your distress must’ve been obvious because it took only a few seconds for her to realize something was wrong.

“Good morning sweet pea.” Tatum greets you cheerfully as always.

You grunt in response, waving in what you hoped was her direction. It was hard to tell with your face buried in leather.

“Everything okay?” She asks carefully and you don’t answer for a few moments because you aren’t exactly sure how to answer that.

How did you feel right now? You slowly correct your positioning on the couch and look over at Tatum. She gives you a reassuring smile and you wish it made you feel better, but it didn’t.

“Tatum...I fucked up.” You sigh and let your head fall back and rest on the cushion behind you.

“What’s wrong?” She asks as she makes her way over to the couch. She sets down her cup of coffee and gives you her full attention.

This is why you loved Tatum. You come home at 7:45 am on a Friday and she’s awake, bright eyed and bushy tailed and ready to help you in any way she could.

“...I fucked Hobi.” You state quietly, admitting it only made your heart sink more.

“I’m...what’s the problem with that? You’ve wanted to jump his bones for like two years now.” Tatum raised a brow as she replied.

“Well first off, we were both drunk off our asses and secondly I can’t even fucking remember it!”

The irritation was mostly due to the fact that your memory was shot. The one time you actually fuck your best friend and your brain couldn’t do its one job and store it away for you to get off to later? Life was a cruel son of a bitch.

“Ohhh,” Tatum nods in understanding, “I gotcha. I’m guessing he didn’t take it well?”

“I don’t even know if he knows. I left before he woke up.” You murmur as you pinch the bridge of your nose.

“What? You creeped out on him?” Tatum’s jaw drops in shock.

“What else was I supposed to do? Stay and let him wake up and see me and freak out?” You ask as you look at your roommate as if she lost her mind.

Tatum didn’t understand how detrimental this was to your friendship with Hoseok.

“Maybe he wouldn’t have reacted badly? You don’t know that.” She replies, trying to keep a positive approach, but in your eyes nothing good can come from this.

“Trust me, I know him. He would’ve freaked out. I’m not just some girl he may see around campus again. I’m his best friend, who he tries to see at least six times a week if he isn’t stuck in rehearsals. Even then I still see him every other day.”

You two met years ago through a mutual friend and had been inseparable since. When you didn’t have a date to homecoming, he ditched his friends to get cheap take out with you and go stargazing. When his long-distance girlfriend cheated on him, you stopped working on your thesis to comfort him and watch movies. When you broke your wrist, he went to your classes to take notes for you despite him having classes of his own. There were hundreds upon hundreds of memories you had with Hoseok and the thought of losing that over a drunken hookup made you want to cry.

“Okay, okay. It’s going to be okay. You said you don’t remember the hookup right? Chances are he won’t either and you can pretend it never happened.” Tatum suggests, but you can tell by the look on her face she didn’t think it was the right thing to do.

“Yeah...yeah, maybe.” You nod slowly and take a deep breath, “I need to shower, I feel gross.”

“Okay, I made you a bagel. It’s on the counter.” Tatum nods to the plate across the room and you follow her gaze to it.

“Thanks, Tate.” You say before heading to the bathroom.

You closed the door behind you and looked at yourself in the mirror. You looked about as great as you felt. You shed off your clothes and for the first time you see the full extent of the marks Hoseok left on you. There were quite a few hickeys and some small marks that could’ve been made by his hands. You wonder for a moment if you left any marks on him. You didn’t really ogle him for long before leaving so you couldn’t be sure. You stop your train of thought before you reached dangerous territory. Instead you turned on the shower and get in, determined to wash the feelings and this morning away and put it behind you.

Now dressed in comfy clothes, you lay in your bed watching some YouTube videos. You had no classes on Friday so your plans for today were to relax and deal with a slight hangover. You were deep in a clickhole, watching whatever video in your recommended caught your eye with no idea how much time had passed. Then a text from Hoseok popped up on your screen. The unexpected message made your body tense, allowing your phone to slip from your hands and land on your face. You cup your nose and groan as you flip over onto your stomach.

“At least no one saw that.” You murmur to yourself before you pick your phone up and go to your home screen.

The little number one near the message icon was taunting. The possibilities of what he could have sent you makes you hesitate to open the message, but it was now or never. You had to face it at some point. With bated breath, you opened the message.

[Hobi: The world is spinning and I hate everything.]

You chuckle as you write back a response.

[You: I told you the keg stand was a bad idea! You brought it on yourself]

[Hobi: I did a keg stand? Why don’t I remember that?]

He couldn’t remember the keg stand? That happened way before you got too drunk to remember anything. Maybe he didn’t remember going home with anyone. You’d never tell him, he won’t know, everyone wins!

[You: Because you decided to do it after 3 games of Beer Pong, you lost all three by the way]

[Hobi: That’s because my partner in crime wasn’t there to help me :( You’re my good luck charm]

You curse yourself for the way your heart flutters at that message.

[You: I told you I wasn’t trying to get too trashed! But then we played Never Have I Ever and that went to shit]

[Hobi: Ah yeah. You’ve done a lot of shit dude. I don’t know how either of us got home in one piece]

[You: Me either, I don’t remember shit after Wendy streaked through the house. Memory goes blank after that.]

[Hobi: Wait, Wendy Ryther? She streaked? And I don’t remember it? Fuckkkkkkkkk]

You laugh to yourself as you picture Hobi’s disappointed pout in your head.

[You: Your fault for getting wasted so early in the night!]

[Hobi: Well now that’s two girls I have no recollection of from the night. Great.]

Your throat goes dry and the panic from this morning comes back. Two girls? So he did remember it? You type out and erase six different messages before finally settling on one that seemed normal and not panicky.

[You: Two girls? What do you mean?]

The typing bubble pops up and you anxiously watch it and wait for Hoseok’s reply.

[Hobi: There was a girl at this party that I really vibed with. I’m pretty sure I brought her back here but she snuck out before I woke up and I can’t remember her face for shit. Don’t remember her name either. I remember getting us drinks, I remember us walking back to my place but it’s all very hazy. I was hoping she left a note with her number or something but nothing at all, just up and vanished :(]

You let out a sigh of relief. So he remembered taking someone home but he didn’t know it was you. Good. He’d let it go and this will be thing of the past before you know it.

[You: Sorry Hobi :( there’s always another party and there’s no shortage of girls on campus so]

[Hobi: Yeah you’re right but...idk I feel as if I really digged her you know? Like I wanted to get to know her better]

You smile sadly at your phone. If only he knew. He would change his mind quickly.

[You: Maybe she’s a student and she’ll be at another campus party! Have hope!]

[Hobi: Yeah you’re right! I’ll probably bump into her again, hopefully not shitfaced this time]

Your talk with Tatum comes to mind and a wave of guilt hits you hard. You consider coming clean and telling him it was you, but not knowing the outcome of doing so was enough to make you shut down that idea.

[You: Take it easy on the shots next time then. I feel bad for your liver]

[Hobi: I’m here for a good time, not a long time babe]

You roll your eyes before replying. The pet name was one he’s used with you for the past year or so. For a moment you thought maybe he was into you, but when he didn’t make any advances you realized it was only a name and nothing more.

[You: I’m tired of you]

[Hobi: Love you toooooo! Movie night? My place? No alcohol though, my stomach can’t take it right now.]

[You: Works for me! I’ll come over at like 7 or something]

[Hobi: Bring me ginger ale and I’ll love you forever]

[You: I’ll think about it.]

You perk up as you hear the front door open. Tatum was home and it was perfect timing so you can update her on your current situation.

Seven rolls around pretty fast and you find yourself back in Hobi’s apartment where you snuck out 12 hours ago. You try to push that to the back of your mind as Hoseok gives you a big hug.

“Hey! You look pretty good for someone who was plastered last night.” He says as he pulls back and takes the bag out of your hand. He leads the way into the living room and starts spreading out the food you brought over.

“I could say the same for you.” You reply as you give him a once over.

Unlike this morning, he was dressed in a shirt and sweatpants. You favored this morning’s look more than this one, but if he was shirtless right now you would be unable to focus on a movie let alone form actual coherent sentences. So it’s probably best he kept his clothes on his body and not on his lamp this time around.

“Took quite a bit of water and sporadic napping but thank you.” He flashes you a smile over his shoulder before heading to the kitchen for some napkins.

You settle on the couch and look to see what movie he chose. Scooby-Doo: The Movie. Typical Hobi. A few moments later Hoseok returns with a napkin and two cups. He pours you both some ginger ale before hitting play. You watch the opening scene in silence as you and Hoseok eat your food.

“About the party last night,” Hoseok speaks up after a few minutes, “do you remember anything from the night? Other than Wendy streaking.”

“You sound so bitter about that.” You say with an amused smirk.

“Doesn’t answer my question.” He mumbles as he stabs into the chicken on his plate.

“I remember everything up until Wendy, I told you that.” You remind him before sipping your ginger ale.

“So you don’t remember the girl I took home?” You tried to keep a casual look as you set your cup down beside you.

“Nothing, sorry Hobi.”

The look of slight disappointment made the guilt come back again, but soon it was replaced with the trademark ‘I-got-an-idea’ look.

“I know how to find her.” Hoseok says as confident as ever and you raise a brow.

What could he have come up with that made him so sure of himself?

“And how is that?”

Hoseok sets his food aside before revealing his ‘foolproof’ idea to you.

“By going to another campus party and finding her. I bet she would go to another party and you know me better than anyone else so if we work together, we could find her! Maybe. It’s worth a shot.”

“I don’t know Hobi.” You set your plate down as you shake your head.

“Come on! Pleaseeeee.” He clasps his hands together and gives you his puppy eyes.

“Really? You think that’s gonna work on me? Seriously?” You deadpan as you look your best friend in the eye.

He doesn’t reply, just keeps giving you that look and as Hoseok predicted, you caved and agreed to go with him to the party he planned to attend tomorrow. This was the start of something bad and you knew it, but you felt powerless when it came to trying to stop it.

“Please tell me you’re joking.” Tatum says as you put on your shoes.

You told her about Hoseok’s plan and how you agreed to it. He would be here in a few minutes to take you to his first ‘scouting party’.

“You are seriously feeding into the mystery girl shenanigans? You’re digging yourself into a hole you won’t be able to get out of.” Tatum continues as she watches you put on a jacket.

“I’ve been thinking about it! I’ve come to the conclusion that if I simply entertain the idea a bit, soon he’ll give up and then we can forget about this whole thing. 3 parties max and he’ll be over it. Trust me, I know Hobi very well.” You ramble as you zip up.

Tatum gave you a disapproving look but before she can say much else you yell bye and leave the apartment. You exit your building and are greeted by Hoseok sitting on the hood of a car. He smiles as you emerge and whistles.

“Lookin’ good! Don’t make me have to play bodyguard all night.” He jests as he hops down and makes his way to you.

“You’re just flattering me.” You giggle before leading the way to Lehman Tower, where the party was located.

“I always mean what I say. You trying to take someone home tonight?”

“God no. I don’t need a repeat of last night.” You sigh and put your hands in your pockets.

“Last night? You went home with someone Thursday?”

It was then you realized your error. Thinking quickly, you brush off his question.

“Nothing remarkable, ‘s why I didn’t mention it.”

Hoseok hums in acknowledgment before turning his attention back to the street ahead. Thankfully Lehman wasn’t too far away and after another minute or two of silence you reach the building.

“Hope this ends up being a good night for both of us.” Hoseok murmurs as he holds the door open for you.

It was really quiet and for a second you wonder if you came to the right place, but Hoseok leads you to the elevator and gets in before you can question anything. He clicks the P button and you wait silently as the elevator went up over 20 floors. As the elevator came to a halt, you could hear the loud music and people yelling. Once the doors open you see people lined up in the hallways with drinks, laughing and chatting in groups. With a few ‘excuse me’s you and Hoseok make your way through and enter the penthouse the party was in. This place was really posh for a college party, some rich kid probably organized it. How Hoseok got you two in was beyond you but as he handed you your first drink you found yourself not caring. Three drinks later you and Hoseok lean on a wall, lightly bouncing to the beat of the music.

“Alright, I got enough drinks in me to approach someone. Pick a girl.” He says loudly so you can hear him over the music.

“What? Pick a girl?” You repeat in confusion, forgetting why you two were here in the first place.

“My mystery girl! You know me well, I trust your judgment. Who do you think it could be?” He asks before setting his empty cup aside.

You look around the room and spotted at least 3 girls who seemed to be his type right off the bat. Cute, bubbly, slim figures, basically perfect. You’d blame it on the alcohol but you’re feeling jealousy like you never have before. You keep looking around and your eyes settle on a girl in your psychology class. She was prissy, whines a lot, super high maintenance and a pretty big bitch. The kind of girl that would roll her eyes when she bumps into you. The kind of girl Hoseok wouldn’t ever be with in a million years. Against your better judgment, you nod toward her.

“Her.” You nod to your classmate who you are 78% sure is named Cali. She was currently on her phone and ignoring everything around her.

“Her? You sure?” Hoseok asks as he looks her over. You could see the slight hesitancy in his eyes, but you weren’t gonna stop now.

“Yeah her, go get her.” You nudge Hoseok toward her and he gives you one last look before he shrugs and heads over.

You shouldn’t feel joy when you notice Cali ignore Hoseok's first hello or when she rolls her eyes and pretends locking her phone to talk to Hoseok is the most grueling thing in the world, but you do. You smirk a little into your cup as with each word Hoseok’s distaste for her becomes clearer in his face. He couldn’t hide his emotions well when he was drunk.

Your source of entertainment was suddenly blocked by a black t-shirt. That black t-shirt belongs to a very cute boy who was currently smiling down at you. You had a sassy remark ready to go but the sight of his warm brown eyes and dimples made your words die in your throat.

“Enjoying the party?” He asks before sipping his drink.

His voice was smooth and sweet like honey and you found yourself hanging off his every word in a slight daze.

“Yeah, it’s pretty good. You?” You manage to keep a steady tone as you look him up and down.

As expected, he was put together and trying to impress if the brands he was wearing indicated anything. He was the definition of eye candy and you find yourself trying to recall if Tatum had any plans to leave your apartment tonight. Maybe getting laid by someone other than Hoseok was the beginning of moving on.

“Good. Even better now. I’m Damien. What’s your name?”

“Get me another drink and I may tell you.” You hold the empty cup toward your new interest and he raised a brow before an amused smirk graced his features.

“You got it.”

Damien disappears to the kitchen and you glance back at Hoseok to see him looking bored. It seems Cali was giving her full attention and rambling about something, probably herself.

“Here you go.” Damien reappears at your side, holding out a red cup.

You jump a little, not expecting his return so soon. You sip from the cup and hum in delight at his choice. Not bad.

“Now, about that name?” He asks again, leaning a bit closer to you.

You chuckle softly, licking your lips before looking over at Damien again. You were going to give him your name, but instead a light squeak comes out as an arm snakes around your waist. You looked to your right to see Hoseok had at some point left Cali and joined you.

“We should head out babe.” He speaks to you but his eyes don’t leave Damien, giving the stranger a challenging look. As if he dared Damien to try and do something about him joining the conversation.

Damien returns Hoseok’s stare for a few seconds before he holds his hands up in surrender.

“I hear you man.” He addresses Hoseok before sending you a wink, “Have a good night beautiful.”

You watch Damien go before turning to your best friend.

“Cockblock much?”

“I’m hungry and annoyed, sue me.” Hoseok grumbles a bit as he takes your wrist and starts leading you out of the party.

When you both get into the elevators to begin your descent, you think about how you set up your best friend with a girl you knew he wouldn’t like. Morally it was wrong but maybe, just maybe, if you kept up this tactic for a bit he would give up. Yeah, this is necessary. This totally isn’t selfish in any way. At least that’s what your drunk mind told yourself so you wouldn’t feel guilty. By the time you came out of your head, you were back in front of your place. That was fast.

“Goodnight Hobiiiii,” You hug him tightly and inhale deeply, he always wore such nice cologne.

“Night y/n. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He says as he returns the hug and watches you head inside. Once you disappear on the elevator, he leaves and heads home. You hum softly as you kick off your shoes and enter your apartment. That wasn’t so bad. One or two more failed parties and Hoseok will give up this search and things can return to normal.

Or so you thought.

2 weeks have passed and you’ve been to 3 more parties with Hoseok in search of his mystery girl who was much closer than he knew. It would’ve been four but tonight you had to turn Hoseok down in favor of doing a project you waited way too long to start. You decide to take a break and go into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. Tatum was also in the kitchen, sitting and reading at the table. Her brown hair was up in a bun and she wore a t-shirt and shorts. She gives you a small smile and you wave at her.

“Leisure reading?” You ask as you gesture to the book.

“Nope. Required for class. Fun.” She says sarcastically as she marks the page and closes the book, “What about you?”

“Project for science. Fun.” You reply just as sarcastically as her, making Tatum laugh.

“How are things going with Hoseok? You’ve been partying a bit lately.” She asks as she turns herself to face you.

You take a moment to answer, there was no positive way to say what you were doing to Hobi despite the fact you felt it was what had to be done.

“Yeah...he’s still looking but I’m thinking he’ll give up soon! One more party.”

Tatum stares at you for a while before scoffing and shaking her head.

“Seriously? You’re still leading him on this wild goose chase when you know you won’t come clean in the end?”

Tatum’s tone made the guilt you were ignoring come back full force.

“I...It’s for the best.” You reply softly as you look away at the clock on the wall.

“You say that but it isn’t true! You claim to want to protect him and your friendship but you’re hurting him. You’re giving him hope just to crush him. You’re leading him on. There’s no nice way to put it. You’re being a selfish bitch. Why can’t you see that?”

You take a step back, not expecting this sort of reaction from Tatum. She was typically calm and patient, never raising her tone. However, what she said was right. You were being selfish, you were being a bitch, you were hurting your very best friend. The one who has done nothing but be the most supportive person he could be for you. You felt disgusted that you had let this go on for so long.

“I never meant for it to be like this.” You say softly after a minute of silence.

“I know, I know. But you need to face this now or get him over his mystery girl. You can’t let this continue.” Tatum walks over and puts an arm around you.

You couldn’t avoid it, as much as you wanted to. You had to tell Hoseok the truth.

“I won’t.” You say surely as you take out your phone and send a text to Hoseok.

[You: Can we meet at Ed’s tomorrow? I need to tell you something.]

“It’s going to be okay. I promise.” Tatum reassures you as she rubs your arm.

You sigh and nod before returning to your room. Hopefully Tatum was right.

You wake up the next morning and check your notifications. A few from Tumblr and some from random apps you don’t remember giving notification permission to. Nothing from Hoseok. You frown at that, drunk or not Hoseok has never ignored a text from you before. So you send another.

[You: ???? Earth to Hobi???]

You set the phone aside and go do your morning bathroom routine to keep you busy while you wait for a reply. Once you felt more refreshed and awake, you checked your phone and saw a reply.

[Hobi: Sorry, got caught up in something! 2 PM at Ed’s?]

Something still felt off to you about his lack of response last night but you brushed it off and replied like normal.

[You: Perfect! See you then :)]

You glance at the time and see its only 10:47 am. You had quite a bit of time, so you get a head start on one of your essays before heading over to Ed’s when the time came. You sat at the back booth which was basically you and Hobi’s official space. Your heart was pounding as it neared 2 pm. This was it. You were going to tell him the secret you tried to avoid for weeks. You consider texting him and calling it off, saying something came up and you’d meet up later. But then Hoseok enters the diner and you know you have to go through with this. He was smiling brightly as he slid into the booth across from you.

“Hey!” He chimes happily.

You eye him for a second. Something was definitely up. Hoseok was a naturally upbeat person but he was at levels of cheer that meant something good happened to him. Considering he went to a party last night, the amount of energy he had was suspicious. You’ve seen hungover Hobi more times than you can count and he closely resembled a disgruntled zombie who would rather drop dead again than be awake. However, currently he was drumming his fingers on the table and bopping his head to an imaginary beat as he looked over the menu.

“You alright Hobi?” You ask as you push your menu aside.

You usually got the same thing every time you come for breakfast so there was no need to look.

“I’m great! Better than ever. Why?” He questions as he glances up at you.

You squint at him a little and he laughs.

“Okay okay, you got me. I have something to tell you as well.” He admits as he bounces a little in his seat.

“Oh?” You say in shock.

Well this was sudden, but he looked like he may implode if you don’t let him tell you what it is immediately.

“Well out with it then. You can go first.” You state as you rest your elbows on the table.

Hoseok broke out into a wide grin as he leans forward a bit.

“You ready?” He asks in a hushed, excited tone.

“Born ready. Lay it on me.” You reply, mirroring him and leaning forward on your arms.

“I found mystery girl last night. At the party! After 5 parties, I found her and I will forever be annoyed that my brain allowed me to forget her because she is great.” Hoseok rambles with bright eyes.

He went on to tell you her name, year, major and more but it fell on deaf ears because you were in disbelief. He...found her? But mystery girl was you! You wanted to scream the confession at him, to let the secret spill and be free of this weight you’ve been feeling for weeks but that weight has increased tenfold and you were crushed. It felt like a kick to the gut, like someone poured a bucket of freezing cold water on you. You lost your chance to come clean and though you spent the past few weeks wanting anything but to come clean, having that opportunity ripped from you was very upsetting. It took Hoseok waving his hand in front of your face for you to come out of your head.

“You still with me babe?” He asks.

The pet name that once made your heart warm now made your heart ache.

“Y-Yeah, sorry I was just...just thinking.” You say as you lean back on the cushion behind you. Your eyes stayed on the table, unable to bring yourself to look at your best friend right now.

“You sure? You look a bit…” Hoseok trailed off as he tried to find the right word to use but you cut him off before he could finish his sentence.

“Feeling sick is all. I’m fine.” You make yourself meet his gaze and give him a forced smile.

“Well I rambled enough about Seoyun, what did you want to tell me?”

You could tell him right now. You could let him know that he slept with you and you were who he was looking for, but he looked so genuinely happy. In his mind, he accomplished a daunting mission he’s been working on for weeks. You couldn’t find it in yourself to ruin that for him.

“Hello, welcome to Ed’s! I’m Taylor and I’ll be your waitress today. Can I start you guys off with something to drink?” The waitress cuts into the conversation and you thank the heavens for her sudden arrival. You couldn’t think of anything to replace what you were going to originally tell Hoseok. While he told his order to the waitress, you sent a quick text to Tatum.

[You: SOS! Need you to get me out of something NOW, urgent! Please!!]

You lock your phone right before Taylor turns to you for your order. You tell it to her and periodically glance at your phone. If there was any time for Tatum to come through for you, it would be now.

“I’ll be back with your drinks.” Taylor says before walking off.

Your gaze moves to Hoseok who is giving you an expectant look. He opens his mouth but is cut off by your ringtone. You check the ID and see it’s Tatum. You answer quickly.

“Hello?”

You didn’t expect Tatum to be full-blown crying into the phone. You flinch and move your ear away from the phone a bit.

“C-Can you come home? I-I need you.” Tatum stammers before crying again.

You look at Hoseok who looks surprised. You understood why she was being loud now, she wanted him to hear.

“Yes, of course, I’ll be home in 10!” You say as you stand up and hang up. Hoseok gives you a sympathetic look.

“No worries. Go help her.” He says with a warm smile.

You give him a small smile back before making your way out of the diner. The smile was gone the moment you were outside in the cool afternoon air. Being alone gave you time to think about what just happened. Hoseok, your best friend and crush, is seeing someone he thinks is basically his soulmate. He was happy and coming clean wasn’t an option anymore. You played a dangerous game and lost.

You entered your apartment and the click of your front door shutting was the signal to your mind that you were in a safe space and could unleash the emotions welled up inside of you. You cover your mouth, trying to muffle a sob as tears came to your eyes and spilled down your cheeks. It was a useless action because regardless of your hand, your sobs echoed through the living room. You had no control over the sounds you let out or how hard you were crying. You slide down the front door and sit on the floor, not wanting to do anything but cry over the loss you felt. You didn’t notice Tatum approaching until she was on the floor next to you and giving you a hug.

“Honey,” Tatum says sadly as she rubs your back.

You felt bad for getting her shirt wet with your tears but you couldn’t help it.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She continues carefully, not wanting to make things worse for you.

You take a deep breath and try to control your crying enough to speak.

“He...the party he went to last night. He found a girl. Think she’s the mystery girl. I lost my shot Tatum. I fucked up. I’m so fucking stupid.” You speak softly into her shoulder before pulling back to look at her.

“But I guess it’s what I deserve, right? For leading him on, for being selfish and childish about the whole situation. He deserves better than someone like me. He always has.” You continue, that gnawing feeling of self-loathing coming over you.

“None of that. You’re an amazing girl even if you make some bad choices.” Tatum says sternly as she looks at you. “Hoseok would be blessed to have a girl like you.”

“Well now he can’t because he’s found someone. A dream girl. I can’t compete with that.” You sigh as you drop your head into your hands.

“I’m so sorry. I know this is cliche but it gets easier with time.” Tatum pulls you into another embrace and you let her. The comfort felt nice, but it didn’t take away the pain you felt.

“How about we binge watch some of your favorite shows and eat some ice cream? My treat.” Tatum singsongs, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

You chuckle a little, appreciating her attempt. You lift your head and look at her as you sniffle.

“I’d like that.”

Tatum helped you stand up and make your way to the couch. She stayed true to her word and bought huge cartons of ice cream to eat as you watched season after season of shows. Her commentary made you choke a few times from laughing so hard but you didn’t mind one bit. For a while, your mind let go of the events of the day and you stayed in this moment with Tatum.

You had two problems. Firstly, you had to see the guy you were in love with basically daily. Nothing new, you’ve been doing this for years. Secondly, said guy is with a girl he can’t shut up about for more than 5 minutes. You had no choice but to keep up your usual routine of hanging out with Hoseok. It’s been six days since he told you about Seoyun and somehow he kept finding ways to bring her into the conversation or he stops talking to you to send a text to her. Speaking of, he’s currently doing the latter for the 5th time since you met up for lunch.

“Hoseok. Seriously?” You sigh, annoyance clear in your tone.

“Huh?” He looks away from his phone though his fingers were still typing away.

“You keep breaking from your story and it’s frustrating. I’m here with you, can you put your phone away? I’m not on my phone.”

“Just one more text, she’s telling me about her day.” Hoseok whines as he frowns a bit.

“It’s 1 pm. Literally what the fuck could she have done?” You grumble as you avert your eyes to your food.

You don’t mean to be so sour when it came to the topic of Seoyun but this went past simply dating your crush. She had become a sort of wall between you and Hoseok and that pissed you off to no end. You never had to fight for his attention before and the sudden shift had made you more hostile than usual. Additionally, you had to completely scrap your project and redo it last night. The main water line pipe in your building broke so you couldn’t shower this morning and you overslept and missed your morning seminar which scored you a very passive aggressive and semi-rude email for your professor’s TA. Thankfully Tatum offered to reply for you because you weren’t too sure if you could resist writing back a similarly passive-aggressive response.

“Jeez, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.” Hoseok teases as he sends the text and locks the phone before putting it away, “Happy?”

“Honestly? No.” You reply as your open your water bottle.

“Can you blame me for wanting to talk to my mystery girl after spending weeks looking for her? Come on, I know you’ve had to have a crush before. You know the feeling of newfound interest and wanting to talk to that person all the time.”

Hoseok’s fond look only further soured your mood. You did know that feeling, it’s one you’ve had for a long time with the very man sitting across from you.

“Can you just do it while I’m not here? I’m tired of having to basically beg for your fucking attention.” You snap at him without really meaning to.

This was not your day and usually you could hold back the snarky remarks when it came to Seoyun and Hoseok but he’s been doing this for days now and you had reached your breaking point. You felt as if the world was closing in on you and it was never good to back someone into a corner. It inevitably led to lashing out.

“Beg? You don’t have to beg.” Hoseok states defensively.

“Yes! Yes, I do! I tell you a story and you miss a third of it because you were busy texting! It’s irritating. You’re pushing me aside for this girl who isn’t even the actual person you’re looking for!”

The words tumble out of you before you can think about it. You were exasperated and holding everything in was destroying you from the inside out.

“What are you even talking about?” Hoseok asks, starting to get slightly annoyed himself.

He had the nerve to be annoyed with you when he was the one treating you wrong. You open your mouth, ready to rip into him more when you remember you’re in public. You bite your lip, probably a bit too hard, to silence yourself. You had to get out of here before you said something you regret. You stand up quickly, your lunch the farthest thing from your mind as you quickly exit the cafe you were in.

“Hey!” Hoseok yells after you as he chases you down the path you were taking to exit the campus, “Get back here!”

You don’t turn around to see how close he is. You had one goal in mind: get away from him and recollect yourself. Being too on edge was going to result in a possible meltdown which is not what you need right now.

“I know you hear me!” Hoseok yells again before running to catch up to you and grabbing your arm. He spins you to face him, irritation clear on his face at how you were acting.

“Why are you so upset that I’m happy?” Hoseok asks and you can’t stop the laugh of disbelief that leaves you.

This motherfucker.

“It isn’t funny, I’m serious! I thought you of all people would be happy I found someone I have genuine interest in. You went to all those parties with me to find mystery girl and now you act like this when I have her? Why? Just tell me why.” He questions.

“Because she isn’t your fucking mystery girl you idiot! I am!” Your eyes well up with tears on their own volition as the confession finally leaves you.

The crushing pressure of the entire situation started to lessen and you were desperate for it to go away. So you kept talking.

“It was me, okay? You took me home, we had drunk sex and I woke up in bed with you and I panicked and I left before you woke up! I didn’t want to ruin our friendship over a stupid hookup that wouldn’t have happened if we weren’t drunk off our asses.” You ramble, tears running down your cheeks as you make gestures with your hands.

“So I kept quiet. I pretended I didn’t know who mystery girl was because I knew you’d be disappointed and I didn’t, I...” You pause to take a deep breath, “I’m sorry Hoseok. I know I should’ve come clean weeks ago but I was so scared.” You finish your ramble in a quiet voice.

It took some courage but after a moment of silence, you look over at him. His expression was a mix of confusion, anger, and disbelief but he didn’t say anything. The longer he was quiet, the more you regretted letting the truth out. Then realization washed over Hoseok’s face, but he still didn’t say a word. He just stared at you, his expression unchanging.

“Please...say something, anything.” You plead softly.

The lack of a reaction was making you over analyze everything, even his silence.

“I…” He starts but ultimately goes quiet again.

You knew it. This was a mistake. You needed to get out of here. You spin on your heels and run without looking back. You could hear Hoseok calling your name but you couldn’t stand to be there one second longer. You needed your safe space. You needed to go home.

The thing is, once you got into that safe space you didn’t want to leave again. You didn’t want to deal with the outside world and the shit it likes to hurl at you. So you don’t. You stay holed up in your room, only leaving to shower and get food. You email your professors saying you were feeling ill so you wouldn’t be attending class and you’d make up the work and get all the notes you missed. They were written so eloquently that your instructors probably had no idea you were in a blanket cocoon and sniffling as you wrote it. A few days have passed since you had lunch with Hoseok and he has made no attempt to contact you. You didn’t reach out to him either which left a lot of free time for reflecting on your friendship with Hoseok and the situation at hand. You take things one at a time.

First: your relationship with Hoseok. Your relationship with Hoseok was...unclear. You went on his social media to see if he had posted anything but he hasn’t posted a new tweet, Instagram post, or Snapchat story since you two saw each other last. So you had no way to gauge where his head was at. There wasn’t much you could do about that without reaching out to him.

Second: the situation at hand. Hoseok had interest in a girl, scratch that, he had an interest in you. Instead of confessing you kept it from him for almost a month, even with the knowledge that he really wanted to find the mystery girl. You encouraged his ‘mission’ for almost a month knowing he would not find what he was actually looking for. You intentionally had him talk to girls you knew he wouldn’t like because you were jealous. This small mishap festered into a huge mess and it all links to you.

You not being honest.

You being selfish.

You caused this.

Sure you were scared but it doesn’t excuse your actions and how much you may have hurt one of the sweetest boys you know. The epiphany was bittersweet. Your guilt tripled, which resulted in what was only meant to be a weekend of sulking becoming nearly a week of sulking. On the other hand, it made you realize you had quite a bit of making up to do with Hoseok. You needed to reach out first. The idea terrified you but there was no way around it. You had to handle this like a mature adult.

So you take a shower and put on fresh clothes with the intention to go to Hoseok’s apartment. You exit your room after putting in an order for pick up from your usual Chinese spot. By the time you made it there, your food should be ready to go. You peek into the living room and spot Tatum on the couch with a book like usual. She glances up and does a double take.

“Oh! Hey!” Tatum jumps up and sets her book aside, “How are you doing?” She asks as she fidgets with her hands.

You roll your eyes playfully, knowing she was holding herself back from giving you a hug. You open your arms and she smiles widely before hugging you tightly.

“I missed you. I didn’t want to bother you but I was so worried! You don’t know how happy I am to see you.” Tatum rambles into your shoulder before pulling away, her green eyes bright and joyful as she looked at you.

“I missed you too. Sorry for worrying you, I just needed time to myself.” You reply, giving her a small smile.

Tatum nods before she notices your shoes.

“You’re going out?”

“Yeah, going to Hoseok’s.”

Saying it out loud made a weird feeling settle in your stomach. Who knew how this could end? That was the exact question that landed you in this situation in the first place, so you disregard it. It doesn’t matter, you had to try. If he turned you away then you’d have to accept it and move on.

“Oh?” Tatum’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Well, don’t let me keep you any longer. Good luck.” “Thanks Tate.” You wave at her before heading out of the door.

You put your headphones in as you enter the elevator and put your music on shuffle. You focused on the lyrics instead of letting your brain wander to what you were doing. The last thing you needed was to talk yourself out of this. Thirty minutes later you found yourself in front of Hoseok's apartment building, takeout bag in hand and heart thumping. You pause your music and put your headphones away. Then a thought crosses your mind.

What if he wasn’t home?

You didn’t think about that. There’s only one way to find out. You take out your phone and open your messages. You start writing ‘Hello’ but then make a face and erase it, way too formal. Maybe just a hi? No, that felt too short and awkward. ‘Hey Hoseok!’ No, the exclamation mark made things too cheery. ‘Hoseok’ also felt weird, but you can’t really call someone a nickname when you aren’t talking, right? You groan at the sky. Why was this so damn difficult? It’s just a text message for christ sake.

“y/n?”

You spun around to see the very man you were just thinking about. Hoseok stood before you in a muscle tee and black jeans with holes in the knees. The duffel bag on his arm meant he was either coming from a rehearsal or from the gym. It felt good to see him in person and not on your phone screen. You scrolled through your gallery looking at old photos of you two more than you’d like to admit.

“Hey Hobi.” You inwardly pat yourself on your back for managing to not stammer or stutter, “How are you?”

Hoseok shifted his weight between his feet before responding.

“I’m okay. You?”

“I’m,” You pause for a moment.

The word ‘fine’ was on your tongue but things weren’t fine. You had come here so things could become fine.

“I’m not too good. Missing my best friend.” You lift the bag of takeout, “Was hoping he’d be up for some takeout and reconciliation.”

The slight hopefulness in your tone made you feel a little pathetic. You didn’t want to seem weak but pride wasn’t going to help you right now. Hoseok’s eyes soften and he nods before he leads you inside. You follow behind and ride up with Hoseok to his apartment. He lets you in and it felt a bit foreign to be here again. You slowly walk in and sit on the couch after taking off your shoes.

“I’m going to shower, I’ll be back.” Hoseok calls back to you before he goes into his room. You take the time to take the food containers out of the bag and set up for his return. That doesn’t take too long and soon you’re left with your thoughts again. He didn’t seem upset about you being here so that was a plus. It gave you some hope that this could end positively. How could you ease into the topic? It seemed pointless to beat around the bush, so maybe just jumping into the apology headfirst would be best? You were too deep in your mind to notice Hoseok had re-entered the room and was asking you what you wanted to drink. When he called your name for the 3rd time, you finally heard him.

“Huh?” You turn your head to Hoseok who seemed a bit amused at your zoning out.

“What do you want to drink?” He asks again.

“Anything nonalcoholic is fine.”

He nods and disappears into the kitchen. He comes out a moment later with two bottles of water. He hands you one before sitting next to you. You watch him pick up chopsticks and the container of noodles. He wastes no time in opening it up and filling his mouth. You bite back a smile. Goddamn he was adorable, even now he made your chest tighten. He glances up at you and notices you watching him.

“Wha?” He asks as he chews.

“You know I hate when you talk with your mouth full!” You groan and make a face.

“I know.” He says as a smug grin spreads across his features.

You laugh and shake your head. He was still your Hobi. Even after the days of silence. Even after all the bullshit you pulled. He welcomed you with open arms and a friendly smile. You don’t know what you did to deserve him. Maybe you didn’t.

“I’m sorry. I am so sorry. I was such an idiot and handled everything childishly. Drunk hookups happen and I should have come to you and talked to you about it the morning after. I was scared of what would happen to us but it doesn’t excuse what I did to you. Leading you on like that. Feeding you lies basically. It was unfair of me and I shouldn’t have done that. I hope you and Seoyun are happy and doing well because I bet she’s amazing if you felt so connected with her that she seemed to be your mystery girl. I hope that we can still be friends because I miss you. I never realized how much of my day revolves around you until I lost you.”

You stare at your hands as you speak. It was easier to be vulnerable and honest when you didn’t have to look into the eyes you’ve slowly fallen in love with over the years. You waited for a response, but for a long while there was only silence.

“Hoseok. I can’t do this again. I can’t take the silence. Please, I need something.” You say desperately as you lifted your gaze to him.

He set aside the food and has that unreadable expression on his face again.

“You’re right. It was unfair. You really toyed with me and at first I was upset because I thought you were just trying to make me mad, but when I realized it was true I was more hurt than anything else. You really think I’d toss you aside like that?” He asks softly.

This was a side of Hoseok he rarely let show. He was the sunshine, the happy one, he always tried to assume that role even when he was going through hell. He didn’t like anyone seeing him in an emotional state, but he learned to trust you with it.

“No! Yes? I don’t know. I was scared you’d regret it and be upset that you let yourself sleep with me.” You sigh and drop your head into one of your hands.

“You’re one of my absolute best friends. It would take a lot to break that. A lot.” He emphasizes before he chews his lip, “And about Seoyun, we aren’t a thing anymore.”

Your head snaps up at that.

“What?”

“Yeah. Finding out she wasn’t the girl I was looking for kind of changed my outlook. She’s a great girl but…” He trails off and messes with a thread on his shirt, “I kept thinking of you. It wasn’t fair to her, so I told her we should stop whatever it was we had.”

“Oh.”

You were stunned. He really called things off with her? He was basically praising the ground she walked on a few days ago.

“Yeah.”

There’s silence for a few more moments before Hoseok speaks up.

“Do you regret it? What we did that night?”

You think about it for a second before responding.

“Yes and no. I don’t regret what we did but I hate the circumstances it happened under. Do you regret it?”

Hoseok shakes his head no, “I wish we were sober but that’s it.”

“You’d fuck me sober?”

“I’d fuck you, period.” He replies without missing a beat and you both burst into laughter.

“Sorry, sorry, too blunt.” Hoseok says between chuckles.

“No! No, no, honest is what we need! Dishonesty is what got us here in the first place.” You reassure him as you calm down your giggles.

“Honesty.” He repeats, chewing his lip in thought before he nods, “Alright. I have a question for you.”

“Go for it.” You reply smoothly though you felt as if your heart was trying to escape your body through your throat.

Hoseok pauses to ponder something before asking his question.

“If we did do...this,” He motions between the two of you, “again. Would it be for fun? Or would there be something else?”

“Elaborate, please.”

You weren’t stupid, you had an idea of what he meant but you wanted to be 100% sure you were on the same age.

Hoseok sighs softly and pinches the bridge of his nose. Was he...nervous? That’s rare.

“Emotions. Feelings. Things like that.” His eyes were trained on the wall beside you as he spoke in a soft tone.

“Between us?”

“Yes, y/n. Do you want to just fuck me for fun or do you want this to be something exclusive?” He replies bluntly, tired of trying to ease into this line of questioning.

“Oh! Well,” You trail off as you fidget with the plastic fork in your hand.

He was giving you a chance to be completely open with him. Now was a good a time as any.

“Exclusive. With feelings. I’ve had feelings for you for a while.”

Hoseok looks at you when you say that, his warm smile starting to tug at his lips.

“It makes sense why I felt so connected to ‘mystery girl’ now. I’ve wanted her for a while. Just never thought I’d get her.”

“Well you were wrong, very wrong.” You inform him, tossing the fork onto the table in front of you.

“Could’ve had her sooner if she had been honest with me from the jump.”

You know he was just teasing but it still didn’t stop you from feeling guilty again.

“Hey,” Hoseok calls to you softly before putting two fingers under your chin to turn your head to him, “It’s okay. We’re okay.” He reassures you as he looks into your eyes and just like that, the guilt melts away.

You smile at him, heart beating a mile a minute as his hand moves to cup your cheek. He studies you for a moment, the air between you becoming more tense with each passing second.

“Can I kiss you?” His voice is so quiet, you almost miss his question.

“Can you kiss me? Not like I’ve been wanting this for years or anything.” You say sarcastically as Hoseok rolls his eyes at you.

“I’m trying to be a gentleman and you’re cracking jokes right now?”

Though his tone would make you think he was annoyed, his amused eyes gave him away. You’re ready to give him another sarcastic remark but then his lips are on yours and all words leave your mind as you melt into the kiss. Your lips develop a rhythm with his and without much thought your hands run up his chest. A soft growl emits from Hoseok’s chest as his free hand moves to your waist. You fist his shirt in your hand and pull until he’s hovering over you on the couch. Hoseok adjusts so the hand that was on your cheek is now holding him up, his other hand starts roaming from your waist. You spread your legs to give him more room to settle and are taken out of the moment by a loud thud. You both break away and look over to see what had happened. While you were adjusting, your foot knocked Hoseok’s food onto the floor.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” You ramble, slightly embarrassed as you look at the mess you made.

“It’s fine I have something else to eat right here anyway.” He says dismissively as he goes back to kissing you.

It takes you a moment to catch on to his suggestive tone, but when you do you hit his arm.

“Jung Hoseok!” You playfully scold him as heat flooded your cheeks.

“What?” He asks with faux innocence before bursting into laughter at the look on your face.

“You’re a pervert.”

“You’ll come to like it babe.” He whispers softly into your ear before trailing kisses from behind your ear to your collarbone.

As you tilted your head back to give him more space, you found yourself agreeing with that statement. You were already loving it.

“Depends if you can put your money where your mouth is.” You challenge, knowing how Hoseok wasn’t one to back down.

You felt him smile against your neck and next thing you knew Hoseok was picking you up and carrying you toward his room.

“Hey! I still have food to eat!” You whine as you watch your takeout container get further away from you.

“It’ll still be here when I’m finished with you.” He says as he kicks open his door, “You just may not be able to reach it on your own.”

With a promise like that, how could you turn him down? Food be damned, you’d return for it later. Right now you had years of pining to make up for and you had a feeling Hoseok would make sure you both remember it this time.

#jung hoseok x reader #hoseok x reader #j hope x reader #hobi x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfic #j hope fanfic

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