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urf1lterr · 2 years ago

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afterglow | pedro pascal [2/3]

"tell me that you're still mine, tell me that we'll be just fine, even when i lose my mind"

previous chapter: [1]

summary: being nominated for an oscar was a dream come true, until you had to spend the rest of the night near your deceitful ex who still loved you.

pairing: actor!pedro x actress!reader

genre: acting world!au, enemies/exes to lovers ?? au | angst, fluff, fighting, mature

word count: 15k

status: 2/3 complete

author's note: SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT LOVES. even though its gonna be three parts lol i still want you to want more. i've been confused on my writing because tbh- i feel like i could do better and keep rushing with these storylines and end up regretting them AFTER they are posted lol. not edited- it really isn't.

"Let's cut the chit-chat and get some real answers, why did y'all breakup?"

"Andrew!"

"Three days have passed, she's fine now," he defended, shrugging as Florence shot him an irritated look by his prying behavior.

It has indeed been a few days since the terrible night that consisted in you meeting your favorite artist, crying beside her, running awkwardly away right after, having a screaming match with your ex, and then passing out in the car.

So, you couldn't deny it wasn't a memorable night.

The past three days could've been better to say the least if your management team stopped spamming you with text messages concerning the fight, maybe even ignoring the loads of pictures of your crying face.

Oh, the pictures. Not a fun sight to see.

Luckily for you, the pictures were only ones inside the party near Andrew- not Pedro. Unfortunately, though, your picture was turned into a 'crying in the club' meme.

You couldn't exactly be mad over it, you loved memes.

Thank the Lords the paparazzi were clueless and never ended up catching your argument with Pedro or you wouldn't know how to cover it up.

You could never get away with the typical 'friends fighting' after he shouted how much he loved you.

And bless the celebrities near you for minding their business.

To clear up your meltdown, you took it upon yourself to send out a quick tweet the next morning with a "i'm sorry i'm an emotional drunk. one second we're talking about 500 days of summer and then...well you already know how THAT ends."

In that moment you couldn't care less if people believed you or not, this was going to pass fast anyway.

Now here you were, sitting in front of your kitchen bar as Andrew and Florence decided to pay you a visit because they missed you- or so they say.

Realistically, they wanted to see if you were still a hot mess.

Which you weren't, obviously.

Shailene would have tagged along, but she was busy doing grown up things, such as working on her latest project Andrew claimed which was a slight bummer. She was the mediator, now who else was going to stop the arguments calmly between your two friends.

Florence disagreed, shaking her head. "You can't just ask her that, it's impolite."

Sighing, Andrew sent you an apologetic glance. "Okay, I am sorry." Not taking his eyes off you, you could feel his curiosity and eagerness from the other side of the kitchen. "But we're all thinking it."

Judging by how unresponsive Florence became, you could tell she wasn't going to fight him on this. And well, she was secretly on his side because your fight with Pedro was seriously excessive.

She just wanted to know what he could've done to make you so angry, it didn't make sense to her if he did cheat. He didn't seem like the type, but some people do the most surprising things- so she couldn't really tell.

"Do you want the last reason or all of them?"

Widening his eyes, Andrew shares a glance with Florence for a swift second before finding your eyes. "Last reason?"

"The last fight we had that led us to finalize our breakup."

"Finalize," he giggled, leaning on the marble counter. "This isn't a divorce process."

"For a person who is so concerned about my relationship crisis, you seem to be catch on to the most irrelevant stuff."

"So you admit you still want to be with him," Andrew declared, giving a smug look as you tried to process his words. "If you're still stressing over him, it means you don't want to let him go."

"I never said I was stressing over hi-"

"Did she or did she not just claim she was undergoing a crisis-," Andrew interrupted, slightly raising his voice. "-a relationship crisis, to be exact."

Florence sheepishly looked your way, capturing your stern expression before slowly nodding.

Your male friend clapped his hands loudly before bursting out a wider grin, happy someone had his back. "There we have it, if he's on your mind that much to turn into a crisis- you still love him!"

Furrowing your brows, you didn't know how to respond. It was true, you had many moments where Pedro agitated you even when you haven't been near him for quite some time.

But isn't being wound up over an ex part of healing?

Truth be told, you knew your feelings for Pedro hadn't completely disappeared, but love? You weren't even sure love existed by your past experiences.

"I do not love him," you hiss, vigorously snatching the water bottle on the counter and aggressively opening it. "How can love be real? It's baffling."

"Questioning the real question with a question," he sneers, making Florence and you become confused as ever. "You're so in love him."

Florence cuts in, squinting her face in puzzlement. "Wait- what's the real question she's supposedly questioning with a question?"

"Love!" he cheers happily before placing his hand on his palm, dreamingly gazing at you. "You have your doubts on what love may be, but without knowing it you're having them because you're questioning your love to Pedro since you're too scared to admit you still love him."

"I don't get it."

Rolling your eyes, you swiftly turn away and head towards your living room to lay on your couch. You were not in the mood to have someone else tell you what your feelings were when they weren't you. "I'm done with this conversation."

Hearing a low slapping noise, following an irritated hiss, you could make out Florence's displeased voice. "See what you did! Now she's not going to tell us."

"So much for moral support, you really are nosy," Andrew fought back, whispering loudly.

A minute or two went by since you couldn't make out what they were saying before rushed footsteps soon made their way near you as your friends awkwardly smiled, hoping they didn't upset you too much.

Because they really wanted to know the drama.

Pushing him roughly from behind, Florence sent you an innocent smile as Andrew landed near your side of the couch, trying his best to hold his composure and not turn back around and start another fight.

Placing a light hand on your shoulder, you blankly glance at it before meeting his attention. "We just wanted you to know we totally understand if you aren't comfortable...expressing your past-"

"Get your hand off me and let's get this over with so you two can leave already."

Florence quickly sat right beside Andrew, both not offended with your statement because they were fully aware of how annoying the were becoming.

Before you could say anything, Florence quickly spoke aloud. "Start from the beginning!" Andrew slowly looking back to her, he sent her a confused look. "So we aren't lost, of course."

Laughing lightly, you nod before adjusting yourself on your seat. It was going to be hard to remember all the details clearly because there really wasn't an exact time issues occurred, it kind of just naturally appeared here and there.

Now that you think of it, majority of the tiny disputes during the earlier days of your relationship were probably on the same level as when you two were splitting, but maybe the dense ones created towards the end really made it hard to continue.

"If I'm being totally honest, we never really had problems when we first started dating. He was really great," you begin, clutching onto a pillow you found right beside you. "And he would always make sure to watch me make it inside my house before leaving, that was when I knew he wasn't some fling."

Andrew smirked, nodding proudly. "Classic move."

Smiling at the thought, you focused your mind to uncover the ugly truths that slowly tore you two apart.

"But then one day, I wanna say a few weeks after our second anniversary, we just started...fighting?"

Tilting your head, you look down as sad memories began pouring through your mind completely. "It wasn't our usual small fights over who left the bathroom floor wet or dropping his ipad in the pool-"

"-you dropped his ipad in the pool?" Florence coughed, bewildered by your scandalous actions.

"He wanted to know if it was waterproof," you defended.

"Was it?"

"No," you nervously reply, avoiding their eyes. "But he had it backed up and I bought him a new one!"

"That was kind of a bitchy move," Andrew muttered, catching your pissed gaze. "But at least you made up for it!"

Maybe it wasn't that great of an idea to just throw it in, but he did say he was really curious and wanted to dump it under the sink.

"Anyway," you start back up again, making Andrew lowly sigh in relief. "Our fights were never that serious, or at least not until he started filming for that new tv series he joined."

Florence spoke up, lightly questioning "The Last of Us?"

Nodding, you shrugged. "I guess it's normal to say the time apart did cause a rift in our relationship, but it wasn't too bad. He always made sure to call and facetime at least once every two days."

"But one day when he was visiting during his week break he just...snapped?" you frowned, not even wanting to visualize the tiny argument.

You had to for your own good.

"He had been home for maybe two days before he suddenly became moody. Like- his attitude was insane, I have never seen him like this ever," you sigh, closing your eyes for a second before continuing. "He didn't want to go out to eat, didn't want me to make him food, and when I offered to have it delivered he slammed the bedroom door on my face and claimed he was going to bed."

"Woah, why would he do that?" Andrew asked, seriousness splattered all over his face.

You wish you knew.

"Not sure, I just thought maybe work was stressing him out so I wanted him to have his alone time to clear his mind."

"Did that work?"

Sitting up straighter, you send a sorrowful smile. "For the rest of that week-yes. He ended up apologizing to me when I tried going to bed and said his manager was being tough on him for some scenes they had done."

You remember the moment you walked inside your bedroom, disappointed that he was awake. Not wanting to cause more tension, you planned to sneak under the covers and deal with the incident in the morning.

But his arms slowly wrapping over your waist as you had your back facing him said otherwise. Pulling you closer, you remember the soft "please don't be mad at me" he whispered near your ear, making sure you felt his tight embrace as if to prove you were his.

That night ended with you turning your body over to face him, accepting his open arms as a way to answer his pleading way of forgiveness.

Like always.

"Once he went back to work, we still talked- but I could tell he wasn't fully engaged like he always was," you sulk, remembering the first time you caught him not listening. "It got to the point where I purposely stopped answering his calls."

Your friends quickly send you a shocked look, you continue before they could intercept. "I couldn't handle his lack of attention, I would rather have him panic from the rejected calls than just tell him why I was upset."

It wasn't your best move, but you were frustrated. It wasn't fair that he was the one who got to treat you poorly and you had to accept it.

You admit, maybe if you communicated with him about these issues you could've prevented many future arguments and even saved your relationship.

But you were human and sometimes humans act human.

"Then what happened?" Andrew asked, a curious appearance plastering his face. "You continued ignoring him?"

Laughing lightly, you shake your head. It was the plan, but plans don't always work out. "Actually, he secretly took a flight back home one weekend and confronted me."

Gasping, Florence jumped up in her seat and moved her leg under her. "No way!"

"Yes, way," you sheepishly reply, embarrassed at the memory. You can still picture the way Pedro stood in your shared bedroom as you stepped out of your bathroom, jumping at the sight of him.

Standing with his arms crossed with his bags thrown by the door, he was determined to figure out what was going on with you.

"I wouldn't say we engaged in a heated argument, but it was surprisingly really emotional."

Andrew leaned his body closer, too interested not to let his questions slide. "Were you guys never emotional? I feel like every couple experiences those moments together- it's what makes them stronger."

It should've made you two stronger, but instead it made you weaker without you realizing it.

"Pedro and I had our minor instances, but it never involved problems we were facing," you began, sighing slightly. "All I remember was finding him standing near the bed with no emotion- none. I couldn't read what he may have been feeling, he just looked so....empty?"

"Empty? That's not good." Florence commented.

"That could mean a lot of things, not necessarily anger," Andrew added, trying to make you feel better.

"I knew deep down he was mad, as he should be- I was the one ignoring him," you defended him, taking full responsibility over your childish actions. "But I could tell he was more hurt that mad."

"What did he say?"

"What's going on?" Pedro questioned, his eyes not daring to leave yours as you freeze- stopping your attempts at brushing your wet hair, extremely confused as to why he was here.

He wasn't supposed to visit for another month, or so he said.

"Pedro?" you squint your eyes, still not sure if he was really in front of you or maybe you were daydreaming. You were high off many shots of espressos, it's finally hitting you. "Is that you?"

Still staring plainly at you, he stays right where he was. In any other circumstances he would have run up and wrapped his arms tightly around you, but this night was different.

He looked disorientated, out of place. His eyes lacked intensity as his body followed, looking as stiff as ever. Even his breathing matched his energy, calm yet unsettled.

You left him confused and he did not like that. "Answer my question."

Batting your eyes faster, you realize what was going on and where he was. Gasping, you do the exact opposite of what he wanted. "What the hell are you doing here?! You're not supposed to be home- you could get fired a-"

Taking a hold of your arms, he stills you and ignores your rambling. "What-" he begins, moving his right hand to the back of your neck and forcing you to focus on him only. "-is going on?"

Freezing, you try to back your head away from his grip but he tightens his grasp, making sure to not be too rough so he doesn't actually hurt you- he would never do such a thing. "I don't understand-"

"You haven't been answering my calls, what else is there to understand?" He sternly recalls, not wanting you to bullshit your way out of this. "So you either have been ignoring me on purpose to be petty or this is your way of hinting you don't want to be with me anymore."

Shaking your head frantically, you try to talk but he cuts you off again. "-And don't say you've been busy. You and I both know I would have figured out if you had added projects to your schedule- your mom tells me everything."

If this were a good time, you would have laughed at his side comment regarding your mother, but it wasn't.

"Not everything," you spit out, causing him to squint his face and release his hands from you.

"Are you trying to tell me something? Are you not happy? Is that why you've been avoiding my calls?" he questions, tilting his head in bewilderment, not liking your attitude at the moment. "Because if you really don't want to be with me you should've told me sooner than leaving me feeling fucking clueless while I'm out in another country working."

"I'm not saying I don't want to be with you-"

"But you aren't denying it," he intercepts, firmly nodding in realization. "I get it, I'm just glad I know now and won't have to wait another month to finally understand how you're feeling."

Walking away from you, Pedro walks towards his bags and reaches down for them. You scoff at his disturbed demeanor. There is no way you should be the only one at fault here- you both made mistakes.

Pushing his backpack off his hands, he watches at it lands on the floor before instantly finding your eyes. "Are you seri-"

"Just because I'm avoiding your calls doesn't mean I want to end our relationship" you shriek, glaring at him as his eyes soften at your hidden truth.

Your angered expression and stiff posture hits him like a brick, there was something really bothering you and he was too oblivious to acknowledged it until you began overlooking him.

Taking a deep breath, you watch as your boyfriend intently examines you as if he's trying to read your impractical mind. Sometimes, he wished you would speak up when something was bothering you, in fact- he has told you many times in the past to do so.

But the idea of patiently waiting until it erupts is what he's sure you've normalized in fear of desertion. Or maybe refusal of reality- the two of you weren't perfect.

"What's going on?" He calmly questions again, dropping any signs of fury and replaces it with worry and concern. Reaching out to you, he softly clasps your shoulder before moving in a few inches. "Am I making you upset?"

Slapping his hand away, you cross your arms over your chest in agitation. "I'm mad at you!"

Blinking a few times, he couldn't believe how fast you spilled and chaotic your energy was. He's never seen you act this hysterical and to be honest, he was really debating asking if you were on your period or not. "Why?"

Pursing your lips together, you release your arms and let them fall on your sides. "You know why!" With that, you turn your back to him and make your way back to your bathroom to hide.

At this point, you felt it was acceptable to act unbearable- he left you feeling insignificant and you weren't going to hold it in anymore.

If you stayed there any longer you knew you would break down into tears. Showing your vulnerable side this early into an argument was too easy, you have to show how bold you were in order to get your point across.

Or anger across.

But it was really hard to hold a grudge, he was just so- loving, despite your recent incidents. Deep down, he did care about you and wanted to validate your feelings- or as best he could.

Grabbing anything you could find near your sink, you begin opening some moisturizer and splatter it around your hands to keep you busy. You could feel Pedro come inside your shared bathroom but you don't dare to peep his way.

"Honey- please," you heard him release a soft sigh as he stood behind you, watching through your huge mirror in front of the two of you. He could make out your distressed appearance and you were absolutely not fine. "You can't just steer clear from this, we need to talk about it-"

Slamming the poor jar on the counter, you swiftly twist your body to his front and feel all the rage taking control. "But did you want to talk all those times I called you?! No, you didn't give one fuck about me or Leia!"

"You named your dog after Princess Leia? That's smart," Andrew butted in, grinning. "You know, since he's in the Mandalorian and Star W-"

"We get it."

Maybe it was wrong to bring your beloved corgi into such a serious topic, but she was abandoned by her father too.

"I did talk to you! I made sure to call you whenever I had time an-"

"I'm glad I made it into your schedule- but maybe if you considered adding some compassion and empathy it wouldn't feel like I'm just another business call you hate!"

Panting, you send daggers his way as his eyes widen. Did you just say he doesn't care about your calls? Impossible- he loves your calls, it makes his days better.

"You aren't a business call and you know that. Honey, please understand- hey!" He cuts himself off once you finally had enough of his poor attempts to defend himself, trying to flee but he ends up being quicker on his feet and yanking you back to his arms.

But once you were wrapped around him, even though it was for pure captivity and not warmth, you instantly broke down. He didn't know you were in tears until he felt his shirt become damp and still then he just thought you were trying to spit on him out of anger.

Hearing your tiny whimpers, he immediately glanced down and lifted you up to catch a clear view of your face, despite your protests and blockings. "Baby, I-I didn't mean to make you cry-"

"You don't mean a lot of things," you spit out, swatting his hands that dared to reach your face. You weren't in the mood to make up, all you wanted to do was sleep your troubles away, especially with the draining work day you had.

Continuing your pulling, Pedro began becoming annoyed with your strong protests against his affection. Isn't this what you wanted? "Why won't you let me hold you? I want to console you, can't I be your boyfriend for the night and tomorrow you can continue hating me?"

"You see my tears and now you want to hold me but admit we'll still be out of place tomorrow? That's acceptable for you?" you laugh ruthlessly, allowing space to be brought in front of you. "Do you hear yourself?"

Groaning, he rubs his face hard before speaking his mind, trying not to sound too furious and scare you. "What do you want me to do? I admit, I did lack some energy-"

"Some?" you snort to yourself, your face still wet.

"Don't interrupt me," he declared, shaking his head at how rude you were becoming. "I wasn't the best partner, okay?! There, I admit it, but you don't understand how it is working constantly and not being able to see family and friends and-"

"It's like you don't even know me at all," you ignorantly chuckle over his nonsense and walk towards your bed.

What a way to dismiss your feelings.

"That's not what I meant," he sighs, following after and stopping you from opening your covers and hiding underneath them. "It's just hard being away from everyone I love, I'm in a different country. It's not like I can drive an hour away and suddenly see them!"

"I can't do that either!"

"Can't you just please, please, please- consider that my mindset is not good right now," he declares, his eyes filling with sadness as his arms slowly find your waist. Taking a deep breath, you watch as he looked up at the ceiling before biting his lip. "I know I am not being the best partner right now- or for the past few months, but I am trying."

As soon as uncertainty flushed your face, his hands tightened as his expression deepened into an emotion you never seen him explore before- dejection.

"I can't promise you I'm suddenly going to wake up and give you 110% every interaction we have," he began, his voice lowering as he tried to keep his emotions in check. "But I confess- I am being a little shit and I am willing to work on that. Just please- please don't push me away. Try to understand my situation."

He wasn't wrong, his life switched around once he accepted the role of Joel Miller and you should've known from the start he would face some difficulties. Maybe you were being too self-centered and invalidated his feeling too, not just him.

Sometimes he wasn't good with words when expressing himself and made you feel as if you weren't as popular as him, but you knew it was never his intention to hurt you like that. He had a heart and loved to use it.

Fighting over work should never be a reason to be miserable especially when it's how you both get your income.

"I-I understand," you lightly speak up, watching as his eyes light up by the sound of your now calm voice filling his ears. "I just want you to know that it didn't make me feel good-"

"Of course it wouldn't make you feel good, I was being horrible," Pedro intercepted, pulling you into a tight hug and landing his face in your neck. "And if I wasn't thousands of miles away I would totally spoil you with kisses and chocolates as my sorry."

"Chocolates are still in favor," you joke and feel him softly swat your bottom in disapproval.

Pulling away, he leans his face closer to yours and plants a sweet kiss upon your lips before backing up an inch and whispering softly, "I love you, you know that right?"

Smiling, you slowly nod and surprise him with a deeper kiss before answering him back with a familiar, "I love you, too."

"You better," he smirks, pulling his body on top of yours, hearing your light squeaks once your back hit the mattress and his lips snuck their way into the crook of your neck.

"Did you end up getting chocolates?" Andrew immediately questioned once you finished your long recollection of memories.

"That's not important," Florence rolled her eyes.

"I mean he did promise her it."

Chuckling at his curiosity, it amused you how focused he was about some candy. "Yes, he did- for like a month and then I got over them."

"Understandable," Andrew replied, looking down at his lap.

Florence jumped over him, making herself sit closer to you as he winced at her sudden movements. "Then what happened?! I mean, there had to be more right?"

"My god woman, I hope you're not working for TMZ," Andrew joked.

She shushed him before leaning closer to you, signaling you to continue on with your memories. "After that fight, things became pretty normal again. We would call each other with far more energy than before and he would even fly back home often to keep our communication strong."

"And how long did that last?"

Frowning, you took a small breath. "Like three months- then we started fighting more."

"Over?"

Rubbing your face, you groaned. "He went back to lacking energy! But that's not even the worst part."

"Please don't tell me he cheated," Andrew begged, covering his eyes with his hands while pulling a sorrow look. "I would never be able to look at him the same."

"I don't know if he did cheat- but I did find out two months before we ended things that he stayed the night at his exes."

Loudly gasping, the company you had began freaking out with their jaws dropping- literally. Florence angrily furrowed her brows, "you've got to be kidding? How is that allowed in a relationship?- It's not!"

Crossing your legs, you shrug as a way to answer her. You really did wonder what was going through his head when he did that. Sadly, you couldn't believe a word he said after you found out what he did.

Maybe that's why you were fine with ending things- because the trust was slowly disappearing.

"Not to mention he would always be with her and ditch plans with me," you form a tight smile, trying not to make things awkward but it was too late.

Who could possible hear this and not feel embarrassed for you? Classic move on his part to follow the 'being friends with my ex is okay' stereotype, but it only left you feeling unwanted and flawed.

Were you not good enough to be in his arms all those times he ditched you for her? And why couldn't he tell you what was really going on- unless he was truly hiding something unspeakable.

"Spill the beans."

Hearing a door slam, you jump up in a daze. You could feel sleep still linger on your body as you crank your neck to the side, capturing the bright '12:47 pm' located on top of your nightstand.

Slowly yanking your body up, you don't stretch as you hurry out of your room to the living room in search of the mysterious person who was either your missing boyfriend or an intruder.

Catching sight of his bright yellow t-shirt as he opens the refrigerator, you could feel your body boil up. "Where have you been? You snuck out last night without even telling me- do you even understand how worried I was?!"

Watching as he gradually turns his head to face yours, Pedro closes the fridge before leaning against the kitchen counter- completely relaxed despite your current state.

"I was out with friends," he declared, grinning to try and take pressure off from you- it didn't work. "I'm sorry, I will tell you next time. I didn't mean to worry you, my love."

Placing your hands on your hips, it pains you that you secretly don't believe a word he's saying. Normally, if this were the case, he would text you if you were sleeping or call you in the morning to inform you with what he'd done.

He did neither one.

Maybe you should test him? Ask him questions and see if he'll freeze up?

"And who were you with?"

He smiled, grabbing a cup from the pantry while easily answering, "Diego and Oscar- we had a couple of drinks and Oscar thought it would be best I stay the night."

Nodding swiftly, you examine him to see if there were any signs of him lying- there weren't. Fuck, you forgot he was an actor. It's literally his job to control his emotions! "And why didn't you call or at least send a simple text?"

After hearing your words, Pedro sends you a small smile before gently placing his cup down. Walking up to you, he opens his arms. "Baby, is that why you're so upset? Because I didn't call?"

Before you could answer, he engulfs you in his arms before swaying you both around. Feeling vibrations as he let out light giggles, you instantly dropped any suspicions you may have had because he had to tell the truth- he would never lie to you.

It's surreal how easily you could throw any convictions out the window when he touched you. It's like he jogged your memory.

"Well, why didn't you at least text?"

Removing his head from your neck, he squeezes you waist and sends you an amused smirk . "Because I was insanely drunk and if I would've used my phone it probably would have resulted in me leaving you hundreds of drunk voicemails confessing my love for you."

"And that's bad?"

He chuckled, shaking his head before pinching your side. "No, but it sure as hell is annoying."

Standing up straighter, you cautiously nod at his answer and watch as he lovingly smiled down at you. "Okay, I believe you."

"Did you really believe him?" Andrew asked.

"I call bullshit," Florence confidently declares, strong on her view that Pedro was not an honest person.

"Let me finish the story!"

Loud footsteps could be heard near your hallway as you stood behind the oven, trying your best to not burn these damn chocolate chip cookies.

Such a basic recipe yet so complex- it was truly aggravating.

"Y/n? Where are you?!" you heard you assistant squeal from a distance.

Trying to properly put your mitten on, you murmur a small "kitchen" before preparing yourself to open the oven. The amount of times you burned yourself thinking it was cool enough not to wear protection-

Point is- always wear protection.

Opening the oven door, you pull the tray of freshly baked cookies towards you as the footsteps became clearly audible. Right when the cookies were in your grip and being lifted, you heard your assistant yelp-

"Pedro was caught leaving his ex's house two days ago."

Throwing yourself up into a standing position, you forget about the tray of cookies until you feel the burning sensation upon your left arm. You accidentally pulled the tray too close to you. "Ow!"

Instantly panicking, your assistant rushes to your side in support and grabs a towel to fill with ice. Pressing downwards on the wound, you wince at the pressure that was building.

"What the hell are you talking about?" you still question, extremely curious to uncover what this situation was.

His ex? That's absurd, he hasn't dated anyone in years when you first met. It's definitely not like he was in contact with them when you made it official, he was always firm when it came with communicating with past relationships.

That was a big no-no, especially when one of your ex's tried reaching out after your last movie dropped. Pedro made it very clear how unhappy he was when he made an appearance at your premiere- your boyfriend not daring to leave your side and even blocking your view whenever your ex had the chance to gawk you up close.

At the time, people thought Pedro only attended because he was close with the director and has always been friendly with other actors. Little did they know he was being extra friendly with you behind the curtains.

"Someone snapped photos of him outside of her door! It looks like he just woke up, too." Grabbing the phone from her hands, you pull it closer to your face and watch what the screen uncovered.

There he was, your boyfriend of two-years smiling brightly as he steps outside her door in the clothes he wore the night before. The same ones he manipulated you with about being with Diego and Oscar that night.

Not just that, but peering on the side of the door was indeed his tall, beautiful ex who definitely aged like fine wine. Hell, she was gorgeous and everybody knew that.

And the fact that they broke up due to their long distance, at the time, did not help this situation. Now that they lived a few cities away, what now? Were you just a doormat he could walk all over and eventually throw away whenever he wanted something new?

Placing a gentle hand on your shoulder, you refuse to take your eyes off the screen as your assistant begins speaking. "Did you know he slept over?" Glancing up, she takes your downcast face as an answer and swiftly pulls you in a tight hug. "Oh no, I'm so sorry."

You were sorry for yourself, too. How could he lie right to your face so easily knowing he was doing it- intentionally. And the most fucked up part was he probably knew you would believe him- just like all the other times you did.

"I saw that picture!" Andrew exclaimed, bewildered at his recollection. "I thought the paparazzi caught him lacking after a hook-up- damn, I wish I would've known you were together sooner."

"Same, I would have unfollowed him," Florence added. "And nobody would've known it was because of you- since you two never been public."

Forcing a smile, you give her a tiny nudge on the arm. "Gee, thanks for being so considerate."

"Continue!"

"Open the god damn door, y/n. You are being overdramatic- it was one night! Nothing happened!" Pedro yelled, pulling the car handle harshly as you searched through your bag that sat on your passenger seat- looking to see if you had everything you needed before your flee.

Let's just say, things were pretty...eventful once you discovered his scheme.

For starters, after bawling your eyes out on your poor assistant's shoulder, she made her departure in order to clean up the spare bedroom she offered you to take if you weren't comfortable staying at your own place.

You accepted.

Once she was out the door, you fled to your bedroom and grabbed any suitcase close by and began stuffing it to the brim, not caring how disorganized it was professing as you reached for more clothes.

You were almost done packing your second bag full of makeup and bathroom necessities when you heard your front door open. Jumping up, you felt your eyes widen once you heard your name being chanted on by your boyfriend. "Y/n?!"

"Fuck," you whispered to yourself, drastically glancing around your now messy bathroom to make changes to your plan- only take things you really need.

Seconds pass and you find yourself zipping your bag and rushing out the door, that was until your body roughly collided with another- causing you to drop your belongings and land on the floor. Groaning, you hesitantly rise, immediately finding your boyfriend's body nearing yours as he pleads to help you off the ground.

"Baby, I'm sorry! I didn't see you coming out," he apologizes, using his fingertips to clasp your forearms to level you. "Look, I need to tell y-"

"Get off of me," you grit, forcibly slapping his palms off you, causing him to cease and stare stunned. He has never seen you once be this aggressive. Sure, you would reject his embrace whenever you two fought here and there, but slap? Not ever.

Brushing roughly past him, you gripped your larger suitcase by its handles and made a beam to the closest exit. You couldn't be around him, not when thoughts of him being unfaithful constantly drowned your head.

A strong tug of your makeup bag made you halt your movements, not by choice, as Pedro made sure to tighten his grip to prevent you from leaving. Glancing down at his now white, clenched hands, you glare. "Let go."

Shaking his head, he stared you down- irritated that you would just pack up and leave so quickly without even hearing his side of the story. Yes, he should have told you what really happened that night- but he knew how you'd react.

It was better to keep it sealed until he was ready to unveil- or so he thought.

"You let go," he hissed, raising one of his hands and smacking yours with it. You hate how much stronger he still was while only using one hand while you had two- fuck his strength and your poor muscles.

Groaning, you dig your feet onto the ground harder as you continue your tug-a-war charade with your selfish boyfriend who didn't seem to believe space was an understandable coping mechanism after he shattered your small heart.

"Fine," you yelp, shoulders falling slightly as he eases his grip- still holding on though. "We both let go on 3."

Tilting his head, he suddenly grew suspicious by your random middle ground. He knew you well enough to know you don't give up that easily, especially when he's fully sure, by your bolting efforts, you saw the picture. "How do I know you won't just run off after?"

"You're faster and stronger than me, you'll catch me eventually."

Internally agreeing, he knew you had a point. Even if you did escape, your little legs weren't going to get you far- he knows from all the times he tackled you down after you countlessly would steal his food.

"1," you begin, eyeing him to see if he would follow.

"2," he stared at you back, cautiously watching your every step.

Taking a deep breath, you count again. "3!" With that, you release your grip from your bag and watch as he still clutches on to the strap. "What the hell- we agreed on 3 we'd both let go!"

Nervously chuckling, he placed the bag on the ground and sheepishly smiled at you. He was glad to see you finally calming down. "Sorry, I didn't think you would actually do it."

Sending him an annoyed glance, he scratches the back of his neck for assuming you wouldn't follow your word. "Trust me, I always tell the truth."

Wincing at your cold tone, he frowns by your hard demeanor. "About that- I was going to tell you-"

Softly placing a hand over your head, you release a sound of discomfort and miss the way his eyes wander in curiosity.

"Can we talk about this after I take my supplements? I am not feeling too good," you cut him off, slowly touching your forehead as you watch his concern grow. "I forgot to take them this morning."

"You know you get bad migraines when you don't take them," he declared, sighing as he raised his hand and began softly rubbing your temple in ease.

He believed you were being serene because you weren't livid and allowed him to stop you from leaving- how wrong he was.

"I know but I had a crammed morning-"

"This is why we need to hire someone to walk Leia, we don't have enough time majority of the week!" he exhales, making you stare at the floor for the point taken. But there was no way you'd hire someone to walk your dog, that's ridiculous and a waste of money. "We'll talk after, let me grab them- stay here."

Sadly nodding, you allow him to flee towards your bathroom in search for your medicine. Peering you head a few inches to the side, you wait till the coast is clear before slowly, but firmly, grabbing your once lost bag and dashing out of your bedroom.

"I almost forgot about Leia," you muttered to yourself, instantly feeling bad at the thought of how quick you were to forget your baby. How terrible of a mother were you.

And what even was more mind blowing was how Pedro didn't catch your innocent acting. Truthfully, he must be trying to be extra helpful so you would believe him. Too late.

Finding your white corgi near the kitchen, you whistle lowly for her to follow as you peddled your way to your garage. "C'mon doggie, if daddy notices our escape plan he won't let us leave that easil-"

"Y/n?!"

Jaw dropping, you shoot a glance of panic to your dog, who only blankly stares back, before rushing to your parked car. "Just like Batman and Robin- now jump in," you hushed, opening the back seat so you could not only throw your bags back there- but also your tiny-legged corgi who struggles at first, but eventually makes it in.

Once you jumped into your seat and turned on the car, you catch a breathless Pedro rushing out through the door to your side. "Fuck."

"You tricked me!"

"You slept with another woman, asshole!" you yell back, glaring as he rolled his eyes- outraged by how unreasonable you were becoming. All he wanted to do was sit you down and have a normal conversation about this, but instead you kept running away.

Once again, he thinks you need to work on your communication skills.

"You used your failing health to your advantage- how sick are you?" he yelped, offended.

"They were gummy supplements!"

Touching your car door, he sternly peers at you as you quickly lock your doors in case he tried opening it. "I did not sleep with another woman," he started, inhaling strongly before releasing it. "Why would I do that when I am in a committed relationship? Huh? Do you think I am capable of cheating?"

Shrugging innocently, you pull a sarcastic face. "Not sure, I do know you're capable of lying- maybe infidelity is the cherry on top?"

Mouth gapping, he sends you a look of hurt and for a second you feel terrible by your choice of words. In your heart, you wanted to take it back- but your head thought otherwise.

"I would never be unfaithful to you- that's not who I am," he firmly states, feeling like absolute shit that you would even accuse him of being with another woman when you were all he thought about every single second of the day.

Dryly chuckling, you nod along to his words. He feels his heart ache, as if hundreds of knives jabbed through the delicate muscle by your painful mien. Did you really think that lowly of him?

"That's who you are to me now."

Once those words flew out of your mouth and he was able to process it clearly, he paused. Whole body turning stiff and cold, he scolded you profoundly before fiercefully charging towards your car door and pounding for entrance.

It was like a nerve was touched and he was not willing to be forgiving anymore. You struck him hard and he knew you meant it out of pure anger- not genuinely, but his awareness soon became replaced with treachery and he so badly wanted you to pay for your foul words.

Mentally checking off your items before departure, you inhale sharply before lowering down your car's mirror and pressing your garage remote- allowing the door to gradually rise and Pedro to panic.

Cursing in his head, he couldn't let you drive away or else he might never see you for days and he couldn't bear the thought of you moping around in agony without at least hearing from him- the man in the picture- what actually happened that night.

Pressing on the lever and angling down to reverse, you nervously press on the gas and allow your car to drift back as your poor dog watched through the backseat his dad embarrassingly urging you to not go.

You prayed the neighbors couldn't hear a thing, if the cops came you're sure you would never go out in public for at least six months.

Realizing that it was now or never, you see from the corner of your eye a figure running towards the back of your car before a loud thump was heard.

Shakily, pressing on the brakes and putting your car on park, you jump out in horror by the sight of legs near your back tires.

You hit him.

"Shit!" you gasped, involuntarily sprinting- as if your body just knew how to react- and dropping down to your boyfriend's lifeless body-

"You ran him over?!" Andrew and Florence shrieked, interrupting your storytelling, causing you to glare and shush them.

"Shut the fuck up- it's getting to the interesting part!"

Hugging his body tightly, you could feel your face began to fall down and your body slowly begin to tremble. In a matter of seconds, you just knew your garage wasn't going to be a pretty sight to see.

Hitching your breath, you run your hands to your boyfriend's chest and shake him softly in hopes he would open his eyes- he didn't. With tears flushing down your face, you sniff as you grip onto him harder. "Please w-wake up," you begin, trying your best to keep your touch on him but you were a jittering mess. Not being able to stay still, you press your ear over his chest to see his he still had a pulse.

Sighing in relief, he did.

Squeezing his face, you frown as his expressionless face stills. Realizing he might have passed out over a concussion, your lips begin to tremble as you finally breakdown in tears and cradle him.

Leaning over from his side, you bend your body and embrace his head into your neck. "I am such a-a fucking idiot," you squeak, your eyes shutting as you don't have the power to keep them open. "I-I love you- I should've just stayed and t-talked-!"

Cutting yourself off, you ironically feel like the lifeless one despite your literal unconscious boyfriend being in your arms at the moment. Bitch, you really had the nerve. Swiftly kissing his cheek, you plunge yourself into his neck and cushion him with your body- being as fragile as ever when handling him.

Quivering in misery, you keep a strong grip onto him before you felt pressure along your side. "It's been minutes and you still haven't called 911? I could've been dead by now."

Screaming, you instantly drop the figure once on top of you and force your thighs to back up, causing you to sit perplexed on the concrete floor.

Glancing back up, you find your boyfriend brightly grinning your way, using his arms to hold his upper portion up as you looked back in confusion. Didn't you hit him?

"I was my own stunt double for some scenes," he speaks up, smiling to himself proud as you continued staying still, confused as to what had just happened. "As long as you have the right mentality- you can take a pounding."

Registering where he was going with this, you scoff and quickly allow your feet to hit the ground. Following after you, Pedro jumps at your unpleased sight and watches as you cooly open your back door to let your dog jump out before marching towards the door to your house.

"Wait? Are you mad at me for that, too?" He calls out, tilting his head in question and proceeds to get his answer by the slamming of the door behind you. "Never mind."

Angrily storming through your hallway, you accidentally run into the wooden desk placed against the wall. "Ugh!" you scream, turning around and giving it one hard kick before making your way towards your destination- the kitchen.

"What did the desk ever do to you?" Pedro mumbled to himself, stopping right by it once you were out of sight and fixing it back up against the wall, making sure the books settled on top were nested properly before going after you.

"So that's why one of the legs is chipped? I noticed that-"

"Shut up, Andrew."

"Sorry, go on."

Finding you near the blacked marbled kitchen bar, Pedro ceased his movements. To be honest, he was nervous to confront you. Not only did you find out he slept at his ex girlfriend's house, but he made you believe he was dead.

This was not going to end well.

"How could you do this to me?" He hears you ask, you back being in his peripheral view as you leaned your body over the counter, hands gripping the ends roughly.

"Do what?" he idiotically responds back, mentally slapping himself for having the audacity to question something he surely knows.

Slowly turning around, capturing his soft yet worried eyes, he catches onto your tear ones and breaks down on the inside. "Tell me the truth." you gulp, averting your eyes to your feet as you sense him bobble his head. "Did you sleep with her?"

Choking on air, he frantically shakes his head in dismay, not believing you would actually think that despite the past half an hour of him comprehending that you might so. Maybe he just couldn't believe it would ever come out of your mouth- but this whole situation made him nauseous.

Steadily finding his balance, he inched towards your frail body as you kept your contact with the floor strong, not daring to move it even when the sight of his shoes play in your mind. "Honey," he lowly calls out, lifting his fingers to your chin and hastily bringing your vision to his own. "No- I did not sleep or engage in any sexual nor romantic activity with her."

"Then why did you go to her house and not tell me?!" you cried, nudging his hand off your face, him immediately aiming towards your waist to still have you near. "Why would you do this to me? Why would you sleep over when you know how I would feel?"

"I can't tell you," he confesses, whispering softly. Feeling your face fall, you erupt into tears again as you lift up your palms to hide behind them.

Hiccuping, your hands twitch as they support your weight and force you to fall on top of the counter and continue watering your tears there. Everything was unfair and he couldn't seem to realize how bad your fights have progressed throughout the months.

"If you really care about me," you whimper, still behind your hands as he rubs circles on your waist. "You would consider my feelings and understand why I should know what you did with her."

Sighing, he releases you waist and rubs his forehead in frustration. Pedro wasn't the type to hide things in relationships. In fact, he was amazing when it came to expressing feelings and being honest while you were the same- but you typically took longer to reveal your troubles than he did.

But no matter how loyal he was to you, it wasn't his place to share someone else's business no matter who the association may be.

"I know, baby. I know- believe me," he whispers, pulling you in for a hug and lifting you off the counter as your sobs were felt among his chest. It broke his heart. "But I can't betray her, she needed me and trusted me to see her. I can't just deceive her."

"But you can do that to me?" you reply, catching him off guard as he shuts his eyes tightly by how accurate you were being. "It's okay, I understand."

"No," he shakes his head, groaning before staring you down. "You don't understand, hell- I don't understand this either. But what I need you to know is I did not kiss, flirt, wink, tease, or touch her in any sexual way. We did not have sex - there was no removing of any clothing-"

"Then why did you sleepover?!"

"She needed me," he simply replies, causing you to laugh ridiculy.

"I needed you and you left me," you spit out harshly, not believing how he could defend himself and think you would ever fine with it.

Grunting, he runs his hand over his hair before pouring all of his stress onto you. "What do you want me to do? I told you what happened- she needed me, I helped her, it took longer than expected so I fell asleep on the couch- do you want to touch my knotted back for proof? Because you can!"

"Why am I the one being yelled at?" you respond, watching his face fall in disappointment.

Staying in your position for a minute or two, you continued examining him as he did the same, not knowing where this was headed. That was until he motioned with his hand for you to move closer.

"Come here."

Furrowing your brows, you pause at his words. Did he think hugging was going to solve all of your problems- because it wasn't. "No-"

Feeling his arms glide up along your upper body and finally wrapping around your shoulders, he pressed you up against his chest into the warmest bear hug you might have engaged in.

It was...peaceful.

Sighing, he felt your body soften by the touch. Relaxing, you closed your eyes as he made it his mission to not ease up on his grip. "I didn't do anything with her," he whispers, laying his face comfortably on your shoulder. "I promise, I love you."

Sadly, his confession made you break down more as tears flooded your face and your body fell upon his grip. Easily wrapping his palms on the back of your head, he cradled you tightly and never left your sight once the rest of that day and week.

And that's how that fight ended- with you trusting his sweet nothings and letting him take over your body with his hugs and kisses because he somehow made you believe him.

Every single time.

You wish you could have moved on from that topic that night as you allowed him to show you how much he loved you, but unfortunately that wasn't an option.

Especially when paparazzi exploited more pictures with him and his ex the following weeks later.

"And what about your last fight? You know- the one that ended things," Andrew started, making you halt. "What happened then?"

Quickly standing up, you brushed your sweatpants down before sending him a tight smile. Now that you talked about sad memories you hadn't really thought of in months, you knew the mention of your last fight would only break you.

You weren't ready to undergoing the same pain you felt that night.

"I didn't know these talks about my past would take a toll on me, but they have. I don't want to talk about it, but I appreciate the two of you checking up on me- I really do, but I think its time for me to take a shower and maybe nap- it's been a tiring day."

Feeling your discomfort, Florence and Andrew exchanged a weary glance before looking back up to you, hesitantly nodding. Probably an intense memory, they were determined not to mention it again unless you came forward.

"Alright- but give us a call if you ever need a shoulder to cry on or just plain old company!" Florence smiled, wrapping her arms around you for a quick hug before pulling back. "We can even have a sleepover."

"Count me out on that one," Andrew joked, bending down to give you the same hug. "But for real, you can cry on my shoulder any time."

"Thanks," you giggle, soon following them towards your front door as they say goodbye to your dog before departing in their own cars.

What an emotional day it has been.

"Do I really have to go? It's no use- I already seen the film. I don't want to rewatch it," you whine as your manager hushes you.

Walking down the side of the theatre, you clutch onto the oversized, black leather jacket you were wearing as your manager and assistant walked on either side of you, directing to to the entrance of a random theatre in the city.

Since the Oscars, nothing has really changed. It's been about three weeks now and there wasn't chaos anymore- it seemed like news about that night had already faded.

Regularly, you did chat with Florence, Shailene, and Andrew on the phone- individually at times throughout your past weeks- but nothing too crazy.

You all had your busy schedules and your manager was still being as hardworking as ever trying to exploit more of you to the press and on the screen. Safe to say, every time she had news it would always be something impressive.

Except for today, when she proudly announced after barging into your house during breakfast that there was a new film premiere you had to attend.

It's not like you opposed the idea- but you watched the film when the production team invited you to their private screening. It would be useless watching it again.

But as persistent as ever, your manager claimed there would be great press and directors attending the public's premiere, following with "an Oscar-nominated actress like you must make themself remembered."

As dramatic as always- but at least she was highly active in your career.

She did everything to make you get noticed, especially when you were at your lowest point mentally after your breakup.

Now onto past relationships, you hadn't heard any news regarding Pedro since you last saw him. Not that you wanted to, but for some reason he was still on your mind. Due to the fact you did sit with your friends ranting about your shared troubles, that's likely the reason.

But all jokes aside, you seriously can't stop thinking about him.

However, you were too scared to admit this to anyone. You tried telling Florence, but every time you mentioned his name she would immediately disregard him, pissed by how he treated you.

Which you loved that she had your back, but you needed someone else to have his own- oddly.

Maybe it was your head deep in thoughts that revealed how you were feeling, but your assistant seemed to notice that you weren't okay- mentally.

After checking in and finding a small crowd, you accepted that maybe most of the audience were in their seats already despite the film starting in almost an hour. Nudging you once your manager left to find one of the producers, you glanced at her as she motioned you to move towards the wall.

"What's up?"

She made a face, practically laughing at your question before continuing on. "Why don't you tell me 'what's up?' The whole ride here you've been silent and I know it's not because you were tired- you slept all afternoon, what's really up?"

Chuckling, you roll her eyes at how nosy she was being- but you knew she only wanted to help you. After working together for years, it was a ritual both of you performed: don't let the other be sad.

Surprisingly, it worked every time. She would hide you from people who upset you while you let her have more vacation days whenever she felt the same.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're thinking about him, huh."

Eyes widening, you shake your head quickly as she laughs at your poor attempt of denying her idea. But she knew right from the moment you got lost in your head that he was the one to blame.

"Don't worry, I won't tell," she whispered loudly, causing you to shove her as she laughed louder.

"Shut up, someone might hear you," you hiss, watching as she tried holding her breath to stop herself from cackling again. She just looked like a fish in need of water.

"Don't think about him then," she teased. "If it's making you lost in your thoughts! Wait- why is he in your head? I thought you hated him?"

Coughing, you shake your head. "I don't hate him- I could never."

"Never?" she raises a brow in shock. "I think we're seeing some progress here. You're falling back in loveeeee with him."

"No way," you scoffed as she grinned heavily. "I'm just thinking about the Oscars since that was the last work-related event I've been to since today and you know- he was there so he ended up in my mind...for a little."

She slowly nods, teasing a smug as makes it pretty clear she did not believe one word you said. Your assistant has seen everything, so she is quite familiar with your thoughts regarding Pedro.

She knows when your happily, sadly, angrily, and crazily daydreaming about him. In this case, she's stuck between happily and crazily- not seeming to find any hints of fury and sorrow through your expressions.

But definitely warmth and frustration- all due to him not being able to leave your head.

"When are you just going to admit you still love him?" She blurts out, causing you to snap your heard towards her. "Everybody sees it, you obviously have a soft spot for him if you let him be near you."

"Near me? He's never near me," you laugh. "And I never show signs I want him back, I don't. I made it clear for months now after perfectly avoiding him at all costs."

"Yeah, but he's still on your mind- that must mean something," she declares, causing your small grin to fall into a tight line.

That must mean something.

Did it?

Shaking that thought away, you reject her idea. "It means he traumatized me."

"It means you're in denial and scared to be with him again," she replied, placing her hands on her hips. "Look, I just know you two are meant to be. Next time you see him, talk to him. Tell him how much you care for him- even if you don't want to admit it in a lovey-dovey way. It can be friendly!"

Giving her a strange look, she lowers her energy quickly before looking around the room, making sure no one saw how enthuastic she became.

"You get the point!" she rolls her eyes. "Just be nice, maybe the both of you can form a friendship or just drift apart knowing there's no hard feelings."

"But there is hard feelings," you declared, pointing out the obvious.

There is a reason why you two broke up, like there is also a reason why you despise him. It all comes down to history and actions, which you've both experienced- which is why, again, you broke up.

"Just..." she started, thinking about it for a second before sending you a sincere glance. "-give it a shot. If you don't hate him, like you said, it wouldn't be terrible to be civil."

Slowly nodding, you understand where she's coming from. This tension between Pedro and you was getting old, and the fact it was only you adding fuel to the non-existent fire since you've broken up is sad.

Especially when all he's been around you was sweet and considerate of your feelings, leaving you alone when he felt your energy- except for that one night, but you have to admit that was your fault for riling him up.

The roughness of heels came marching your way, forcing the both of you to instantly lift your head- finding your manager striking a fake breaming grin with two men beside her. She was trying too hard.

"Girls! This is Greg and Shawn- the writers of the film!" she exclaimed, fluttering her lashes rapidly as both men awkwardly raised a hand, waving it.

Releasing a tiny chuckle, you do the same as your assistant walks closer, sticking out her hand to fully gain their attention and introduce herself.

What can you say- she was a charmer.

Wrapping an arm around your shoulder, your manager slightly pulls you closer to the strangers and strangely bobbles her head- preparing whatever gibberish was about to spit out of her talkative mouth.

"Y/n- the boys thought it would be a great idea to sit in the vip selection among other A-listers- isn't that just lovely? We are very grateful for your offer-"

Boys? Oh god- now she was bonding for her hopeful chances of getting a call for an audition.

Compelling a sweet smile, you feel the only possible response you could give them was a meaningless 'thank you so much' after she literally put you on blast to communicate more. The funniest part about this situation was- you already watched the film!

Clearly you never met these writers- but instead the director himself! Your manager should be satisfied enough with that.

"Would you look at the time,-" Greg- you believe, softly gasps while raising his arm to examine the tiny apple watch planted. "Guests are probably filling up in their seats by now, terribly sorry- but we should probably go."

"I hadn't realized how close we were to showtime- we certainly must continue off our conversation after the film is over!" Shawn proclaims, making your manager nod far too quickly. "I look forward to meeting again."

With that, the two men inclined their motions of farewells before taking off down a dimmed hall, likely finding the exact destination set to premiere their comedic film.

Sighing, you send daggers to your managers who barely blinks before coughing out a swift, "What?"

"You really couldn't wait till after the film was over to sweet talk them?"

Dramatically rolling her eyes at your annoyance, she waves you off by your sudden introversion. It was her job to throw her best compliments about you too them, and she knew you were still too young to understand that everything she did was for a cost.

You.

"C'mon grumpy, let's locate the theatre before you start whining that your feet hurt, too."

Feeling your mouth slightly drop from her remark, you hear your assistant cackle right beside you, using her right palm to hold in her giggles while you mentally prepared for what comeback to throw her way.

You got nothing.

Huffing, your legs followed hers as she guided the two of you towards the same hall the men approached minutes before. The closer you've walked, the larger the capacity gathered around.

For such a low-budget film, it sure did gain quite the crowd.

As the rolling of the ending credits flooded the screen once you sat the last two and a half hours trying to act as if you didn't know what was coming next, you wish you had it in you to say the second time made up for the first- but it didn't.

There we have it, tonight was just not your night and endlessly enough- you couldn't blame it on some silly excuse of watching the same film over again.

Not even your assistant's sneaky offerings of her red licorice lifted your blues- and that speaks enough volume to say the least.

"That wasn't so bad, now was it?" the whole-heartedly voice of your manager's voice filled your ears as the three of you sat in the same lobby as before, still not finding a way to escape a cold room.

Oh how you abominated the sharp hits of the air conditioning- it frankly made coming to the theaters a horror unless layers of clothing and a blanket was tagged along.

"Why can't we leave? The film is done and people are walking out."

"We still have to talk to Shawn and Greg!" your manager declared, presenting a look of pure determination to get her way with their levels of skill.

Groaning, you throw your head in absolute exhaustion. Fairly, if your manager hadn't had made such an early visit during the morning hours you're sure you would've been in a better mood.

It was like the more you interacted, the less energy you had to give.

In order to survive the next few hours, you needed your phone or who knows how your fake laughters will sound.

And you call yourself an actress.

Sliding your hand to the back of your pockets, you wait for the feel of your large iphone to surface- but that moment never comes. Swiftly, you check your leather jacket ones just in case you slipped it there without realizing.

You didn't.

Anxiously glancing towards your assistant, your trembling hands find her arm. "Have you seen my phone? It's not on me."

Examining your hands before meeting your eyes, she shrugs it off. "Relax, no need to have a nervous breakdown- I'm sure you left it in the car with your bag-"

"No, I had it on me during the previews."

"We did go to the bathroom, too- why not just go check those two places?" she suggests. Concerned filled you, hoping nobody was capable of actually stealing your phone- it would be such a hassle getting another one. "I'll check the bathroom, you check our seats."

Agreeing, the two of you sneakily escape your manager when her back was turned, unpleasantly speed walking down the familiar hall before parting ways to your needed locations.

Opening the thick, black doors and striding up the long runway, your eyes are met with the same darkened seating area you were in less than twenty minutes ago.

Then and there, you use this desertion in power- running towards the middle rows consider 'vip' and begin your inspection. Fuck, you wish your had some form of light to help- you couldn't see shit.

Sliding your fingers among the seat, you lift up the cushions in hopes it mysteriously pops up, but all you find is pieces of popcorn and gum glued down.

Gross.

Feeling your eyes begin to water, you were sure you were seconds away from crying like a little kid over the loss of your beloved possession before you heard a deep voice call out for your attention.

"Is this yours? I heard it ringing when I came back in and- uh," the person froze, not having the ability to finish off their sentence as you gradually lifted your body off the floor into their view.

Hopelessly praying the stranger was regarding your phone, your eyes search for their hands first and there it was- your phone!

The corners of your mouth lift up, as well as the creases around your eyes as you internally cheer for your discovery. However, it faltered once you noticed a familiar tattoo laying on one of their palms. Moving your eyes up, you're sure your smile completely disappears once you recognize those brown eyes.

How did you not catch onto his voice from down there?

"Uh- yeah- that's mine," you nervously reply, choking on your words that probably made you sound like you were about to lose consciousness by how strung you were, and hesitantly reach out for the device.

Pedro quietly lets you grab it, not saying one word as your hands collide for a split second before the object was back in your own. You didn't miss the name that appeared on the lit up screen when touched- your assistant must have tried calling you to see if the phone would ring in the bathroom.

Smart.

Avoiding awkward farewells, Pedro swiftly turns around and makes his way down the theatre stairs, not daring to continue on with the barely existing conversation you shared. He's leaving, that fast?

Thinking about all your past interactions, he would always try to chat with you- even when you did give him the coldest shoulder of all time- because that's who he was: kind.

But now he's...walking away?

"Hey- uhm," you begin, following clumsily after him, almost tripping on one of the steps as he reaches his final steps and doubtfully turns your way. Once you stood another step ahead of him, you feel that swirling feeling in your stomach again.

You were nervous- you've never felt this way around him during your breakup- never.

Adjusting your arms inside your jacket, a small smile is extracted out of you as you watch his stay flat. He did not look interested one bit and it frightened you to death. "Thanks for finding my phone- I-I was really scared there for a minute."

Not reacting to your little laugh at the end, he replied- dull. "I didn't know it was yours, I would have given it to guest services if so."

Ouch, you're sure you're hurt expression was recognizable on the outside as much as it pained you on the inside. He really did not want to talk to you, even when you're showing your appreciation.

He really was over you.

"I know," you squeak out, not missing the way his eyes tiredly scanned your own as his body stood there stiff as ever. "I just wanted to thank you, that's all- you saved me a lot of trouble."

Coldly laughing from that, he nods. "I'm sure I have."

Your body tingled with rage as he carelessly ignored your warmth and threw jabs in return. "What's with the attitude? I'm doing nothing wrong here- I'm trying to be friendly."

Inching up, his face presents a sullen one and you immediately feel intimated by the height he owned and used as his advantage. Just the first few seconds before he spoke alone made you feel his displeasure. "And what about all those times I was friendly? I received shit so forgive me for allowing you to experience the same treatment you give others."

Loss for words, you were speechless and didn't know what to say back. For one, you were alarmed by his hard demeanor he gifted to you. Second, humiliation soared throughout as he called out your imperfections.

In other words, he wanted you to know you were a bitch.

"And I take that back but-"

Pedro was about to burst out laughing in front of your face, but he held himself together in sake of your feelings. Can you believe that, despite the misery he still cared for your state of mind. "Taking back isn't apologizing."

Sneering, you cross your arms as his eyebrows furrowed in irritation. "Apologize for what? You were the one who fucked my life over."

Scoffing, he shakes his head in vexation by your lack of empathy- as always. "Countless of times we would contemplate our faults and how we could move on and now you're discounting your wrongdoings- typical."

Pedro did not want to have another unpleasant argument with you, especially in a public setting again, and decided it was best to just walk away. If he kept his mouth shut, he wouldn't make this altercation worse.

Meeting his broad back, you lightly gasp as he ignores you altogether and makes his leave far too early for your liking. Charging towards him, you feel his back solidify once your fingers yank him to a halt.

You were not done with this conversation, but you did know once you got home you were definitely going to regret how toxic you were radiating in the room.

"Typical? What do you mean by that?"

"Knock it off and let me walk away, y/n," Pedro warns, still facing his back towards you after blocking your attempts of moving him. "We both know how badly this will end."

You know, but for some reason you don't want him to leave. Was that so bad?

"No, I wanna hear exactly what you have to say about me- maybe it'll make me recognize the ignorant ego I have."

"You're talking out in anger, you're trying to cause a fire that I won't let you ignite," he simply replies, his eyes still not found by his hidden appearance.

Very poetic.

Scowling profoundly, you don't realize what you're doing until you're finally met with his provoked display after. Stalking around his body, you stand in front of him and jab a finger towards his chest. "You're preventing me from bettering myself, isn't that what you always wanted?"

Leaning down until his face with inches away from yours, you make out his hard features clearly now. His face expressed discomfort as his eyes creased while lifting- even his lips stayed hard as a rock. "I'm going to tell you one more time, let me go."

Ignoring his cold shoulder, he inhaled a sharp breath before taking matters into his own hands. You don't want to listen? Fine. But he wasn't going to let you drag him into this any further.

Right as you push another finger up against him, your wrist was taken and roughly pushed down by your side as Pedro's body practically belted against yours. "Get off me!"

"Not until you stop fucking around," he grunted, immediately widening his eyes in realization. He knows you don't like when he casually curses directly to you- even when he doesn't harm. "Sorry- I-I meant when you stop playing around."

Praying that a smile doesn't escape you, it made you feel some type of way capturing his manners and how even though you two were on rocky terms- he still had some respect for you.

"Why are we even fighting right now?" you sigh, slowly softening your muscles in forfeit.

"You tell me- it sounds like you want my attention," he casually replied, releasing your hands and stepping back an inch. "Considering you won't let me leave."

"I'm just trying to have a normal, polite conversation! Is that so wrong?"

Softly laughing, he shakes his head in disappointment. "You don't get it."

Scrunching your face, you become lost by his words. "Get what?"

Scanning the wall before meeting your eyes again, Pedro motions his hands between the two of you. "What do you think will come out of us having a conversation? Acquaintances? Maybe a friendship?"

Thinking about it for a second, you feel your head eventually nod as he squeezes his eyes shut in return. Was that not what he's been trying to do- end in good terms? "It's what's healthy for us."

"Us?!" Pedro groans, sending you a tired gaze that had you weak to the knees. "There is no 'us' anymore. You made that perfectly clear after causing a scene last month in front of your friends."

"I didn't plan on that happening a-"

"I'm even letting go the bigger scene you caused inside the after party- isn't that enough to understand why I feel this way?" he adds on, frustrated that you would think otherwise.

You were the one who caused the attention and brought a bad look on his name. He should be shouting at you like you would have done to him if the roles were reversed.

"I'm not saying we should get back together, all I want-"

"-is a friendship? Some sort of relation that won't make us strangers?" he interjects, causing you to stay silent. That was all he needed to understand what you really wanted: not to let him go. "Look, we had our history, but I don't think it's good we keep in contact anymore."

You swear you felt all air leave your body as your face felt cold. Was he breaking up with you- in life itself?

"I-uhm don't- I don't understand," you cough, scared to make a bigger fool out of yourself. You're sure you probably look like a ghost by how much color you've lost since his recent reveal and again- you were grateful this room was dim. "Why can't we at least be friends? Not even that- why can't we at least know we have each other in our lives? Why end up as strangers?"

"What do you mean? We hadn't talked to each other in almost a year till last month! We basically are strangers," he exclaimed, causing you to look down at your feet as your heart ached.

He wasn't wrong- you just hadn't realized he's been right. And to blame was you, not him. You pushed him away in the first place, he was only kind enough to oblige.

And it was surely pathetic how now you wanted him back in your life, even if it meant not even talking just to assure yourself he still had your back.

He didn't.

"Y/n..." he sadly muttered, trying his best not to hurt your feelings as you were still continued to stay downwards- not wanting to disclose more hurt. "You didn't even say happy birthday to me, how can you be considered a friend? Friends don't do that, not to me at least."

This caused you to glance back up to him, disagreeing immediately as to what he was trying to get at. Of course you knew it was his birthday, you celebrated two with him in the past! "I didn't want to make things weird-"

"You never do but still avoid me like the plague and breakdown whenever I'm too close to your liking. I'm sorry for trying to do what's best and leave us in the past,-" he explains, closing his eyes in discomfort, "-but I can't keep letting this go on. I'm too old to be going back and forth as if this is some high school relationship- it's not."

High school relationship- you never knew simple three words could have you shrinking in guilt.

"And I know things will be easier for you when the time comes- I won't be around to nag you," Pedro tries to lighten up the mood but you can't break the line upon your lips. You were emotionless and it made Pedro upset.

Why would he be upset? You finally deserved learning your lesson after treating him as if he was nothing to you. But despite all your flaws, he still cared for you.

He cares so much that he's willing to let you go so you can do better things in life- without him.

Trying to find the right words to say, you give up. There isn't much to discuss now that he wants nothing to do with you.

You fucked up- for real this time.

In fact, you shouldn't even be hurt- you wanted this. Or at least that's what you thought before last month when he wasn't on your mind 24/7.

Maybe it was the way he begged for your forgiveness after not seeing each other for so long that made you realize how badly you adored him nearby.

Maybe it was the attention he was giving you after you continuously rejected his pleads, furthering the argument until he stormed off in the end.

And maybe you should've took his concluding estrangement announcement seriously before he left you last month.

But just like they say, you never know what you have until it's gone.

"I see," you quietly respond, slowly nodding as a faint grin forms among Pedro's lips, appreciating your cooperation over this mess. "Maybe it is best if we stray away from each other- you can even delete my number."

"I already have," he accidentally blurts out, not realizing how bad that sounds until he hears it himself and cringes. Your sufferable reaction didn't make things better.

"You know what," you fake a laugh, trying to calm your voice as you feel it about to crack any second. The tears were heading your way- you just knew it. "Fuck you."

Pedro's face falls, taken back by your inappropriate language. "Excuse me?"

Noticing your rushed attitude, he wanted to stop you and tell you everything was alright. That everything was going to be easy and how the two of you would get passed this.

But he knew he'd be lying.

"You heard me, fuck you," you casually slip out, scoffing as his eyes darken. "For someone who's so kind to others, I would have thought you would know what words were right to say."

"You're one to talk, sweetheart," he chuckled, staring at you in repulse. "Every time you talk you always have to neglect someone else, I'm fucking glad I don't have to witness that ever again."

"Me too, my family was right- you are a joke who wasted my time."

With that, you make your leave to have the chance of having the last word. Maybe if you left this room faster he would forget about your comment. You knew it was harsh but you didn't know what else to say.

You wanted him to hurt- but to what extent?

Your arm was instantly tugged as Pedro pulled you back, not letting his grip go as his face was still filled with resentment. "And your team was right, you are a bitch."

Freezing, you stare at him in shock as his face doesn't fall once. What the hell is he talking about? "Get away from me or else-"

"Or else what? Weren't you the one physically blocking me from leaving minutes ago? What has changed?" he tries to smirk, manipulating you into believing how ruthless he could be when really he was dying to tell you the act he was pulling. "Cat got your tongue?"

Your face felt hot with rage as you yanked your arm off his hand, catching him by surprise as you glared at him. "I'm so glad I never took you back, you're fucking pathetic."

"And I'm insanely glad you didn’t, saved thousands returning that fucking ring."

Those twelve words made you halt and even made Pedro speechless. By the staggered look planted on his face, you could tell he didn't mean to say that.

Ring? As in, an engagement ring?

Weakly failing to stand straight, you felt your voice crack. "You were going to propose?"

Shaking his head, he swiftly backed away. "I need to go." Before you could stop him, he was already out of the theatre and probably near larger gatherings of people that would only prevent you from talking about this more.

Holding your face with your hands, you couldn't even cry. You didn't know what to do, you were utterly lost for words.

If he was really going to propose like he hinted at, what meaning did your last fight have? Nothing made sense and you don't know how you could move on from this now that he wanted you out of his life completely.

Hearing doors open, you instantly averted your gaze in hopes he had come back in and planned to properly finish what he started.

Instead, you manager came barging in while gripping onto your assistant's wrist harshly.

"Where the hell have you been?! I've been looking for you everywhere and to find out your stupid assistant-"

"Don't you dare disrespect her," you sternly cut her off, watching as her face falters by your sudden tone. "If you're here to pester us some more, feel free to walk home."

Laughing in shock, your manager tilts her head at your rudeness. "Excuse me? It wasn't my fault your assistant wondered off. After everything I have done to protect you and your career you feel the need to throw me out-"

"Did she hurt you?" you cut her off, focusing on your assistant who has gone quiet. You notice the redness on her small wrists before she slowly nods, looking down in fear your manager would try something else.

"You're fired," you simply state, pushing past your frantic ex- manager as you lightly guide your assistant out the door.

You ignore the rage your ex- manager unveils as you make it back to the lobby. Ignoring the waves random people sent your way in hopes of finding your destined car sooner so you could help your assistant with her injuries and be home already.

And in bed to think about what the fuck just happened tonight.

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lemonhemlock · 4 months ago

Note

Do you think S3 will be for the greens because this is not it. Rhaenyra and co are getting all the juice. They get a cohesive narration at least. Sure most of it doesn't make sense but the pov of her with Jace is far more compelling as a concerned mother and a son she loves and takes seriously vs Alicent and Aegon, who she thinks of as scum. The blacks are getting the sympathy vote. Maybe S3 will focus more on the greens though I can't foresee it going well after this abomination of a season. Seven hells and all that. How on earth they are going to save the greens after this Idfk. They are ruined. It was supposed to be Rhaenyra who slowly descends into madness.

So, I know there is a lot of talk going around about what exactly constitutes "bad writing" and what is just copium from fans who are simply disappointed that their headcanons didn't come true and, to answer this ask, I'm going to try and give my take under the cut.

To begin with, I think it's normal for people to whine and rant about the direction of the show, even if they're just disgruntled that the writers made different choices for the characters. It's early days! We are very much in the midst of things and there hasn't been enough time to go through the five stages of fandom grief or whatever. However, I do find it short-sighted and (I'm not trying to be mean, but I don't want to mince words either) childish how some are using this as a launching pad to present themselves as the the depositories of true media literacy, because their preferred interpretation of whichever character came true at the expense of another. All this, of course, to take swipes at people who had other interpretations they considered annoying or delusional. IDK, I am just of the opinion that it contributes to fostering an unwelcoming space where fans start feeling circumspect when it comes to engaging in the fandom because they fear committing to any opinion for fear of ridicule.

I would therefore ask people to consider that, the way TV shows are made, there probably existed in that writers' room various directions they could have taken (some complimentary and some contradictory) and it naturally follows that one version had to win out against the others. So, to think that because some people sat down in a meeting and decided to settle on Interpretation A instead of Interpretation B somehow means you were right all along and all the others were wrong and that makes your takes superior is just dilly-dallying. HotD as a media production has many decision-makers involved in its creation, it's not just one person whose textual hints you correctly deduced using reasoning skills: there are probably people in there arguing just like we are about what Aemond should do or what Alys should be like and they might also disagree with each other and have different ideas.

Anyway. I look at HotD as a living, changing organism that can morph according to who is involved in its adaptation, not as a fixed, pre-determined thing that I can "guess" at and correctly predict. What if they change the writers this summer and S3 retcons everything we've seen? What then? It's a ping-pong fandom blaming game that disguises a quest for self-validation through parasocial projections and I don't think is very productive. If you ask me, it doesn't seem to me that these writers have much a clue what they're doing half the time.

As a general rule, some changes from the book I am probably not going to like to matter what (and I think that tracks for most people; everyone has their particular preferences). But I honestly think I could have been OK with them in the end had they been executed better and I am going to give a couple of examples of what I believe constituted "bad writing".

For instance, I really wasn't wowed by the scene in which Otto gets fired. The plot and acting choices fell flat to me. Aegon is too... unresponsive and Otto's monologue falls apart at a minimal examination. It's not necessarily the idea of Otto criticising Aegon that I'm so turned off by - I know it is a talking point that the shattering of the image of the greens as a family is what's making others salty. But consider the fact that it's illogical and directly contradicting to Otto's own actions. Last season in episode 9 he was planning for a long time to have Rhaenyra assassinated, with the approval of all members of the small council sans Beesbury, and Alicent had to become angry and put her foot down to defend Rhaenyra. The whole dramatic "the King would not wish for the murder of his daughter" line. Now Otto is mad because Criston sent someone to assassinate Rhaenyra? It's been a few weeks between these events and nothing happened to Otto so that he might have a change of heart.

It just takes me out of the story and prevents me from enjoying any bollocking he might give. It's too goofy. These writers want the greens to have conflict, but they don't know how to create engaging and believable sources of conflict. It's baffling because the sources of conflict are so many, yet, instead of choosing a reasonable element that might create differences in opinion, they have to invent stupid shit that compromises the entire process. Otto could be mad at Aegon because Aegon has been making lots of rash decisions or is turning the Red Keep into a whorehouse or whatever. But he hasn't literally done anything. He is shown to be impatient and impulsive but has always heeded the advice of his councilors when they started arguing back, so what gives? What is so unbelievably bad that could cause Otto's and Alicent's attitudes towards him?

Speaking of Alicent, a short while ago, she stood in front of a dragon in a desperate attempt to protect her son. You might think a traumatic event like this would cause a person to re-evaluate their relationship. It would be a normal reaction for Alicent to think her son has been disappointing overall, but, even so, it looks like she really doesn't want him to die after all. At least in the short-term? But, no, it's like the even had no bearing on her and she keeps acting like Aegon is the worst king alive when he hasn't made any grave mistakes - has actually been acting quite tame since then.

This is what drives me up the wall so much - all these traumatic things happen to the greens and they have no reaction to them. Apart from Aegon crying over Jaehaerys, on the whole, they are so emotionally passive. Maybe when in the midst of something gruesome they are 15% sadder, but they get over it quickly and return to their baseline gloominess. This is so easy to see and criticise, yet I am certain there is someone out there who is going to read this and think that I just want them to wail and dramatically bellow out a Hamlet soliloquy. "Everyone grieves in their own way". And, again, I find that kind of conversation tiresome because I can't help but read a disingenuous intent behind it - there is no way they are not being dishonest in refusing to acknowledge that the lack of emotional dynamism is an element many people find deeply unsatisfying in fiction.

I've said it so many times now, but the writers are constantly shying away from associating the greens with any kind of positive emotion (apart from a couple of measly scenes like Aegon being happy when interacting with Jaehaerys and the Alicent/Gwayne scene - which came in episode freaking 6 out 8 btw). When you have an entire group of people whose emotionality is so static, their part of the plot falls flat, too, because it looks like there are no stakes, nothing matters, they're going to be as miserable no matter what happens to them, so why bother? It prevents the viewer from getting invested and it's just plain boring to witness. A scene like Alicent charging at Rhaenyra with a knife would never have happened this season the way these characters are being written. She would have gone straight back to bed after the maester stitched Aemond's wound.

And this is such a huge and pervasive problem with the show right now that it does feel gaslight-y and duplicitous to be counter-acted with arguments in the vein of "you're just mad because you disagree with the characterisation". I know it's not always coming from a place of malice, but it is a little frustrating, what can I say!

Coming back to the ask, I am in the minority now when I say that, on the contrary, I think TB are written in a more interesting way because at the very least they behave like people! They are shown having emotions commonly associated with people, not robots. They grieve together, they bond, they are devastated - Rhaenyra had an entire mini-arc of needing to find Luke's remains herself in order to grieve and they all held a funeral together and were quite touched). They fight for real or have mini-arguments or are disappointed in each other. They talk it out and sometimes they make-up and sometimes they don't (like Daemon fleeing Dragonstone). They have emotional range.

Yes, it can get a little boring sometimes - I do not necessarily disagree with those complaining that Rhaenyra is constantly shown being undermined by her Small Council. A queen struggling to be taken seriously and trying to please everyone while also looking for ways in which to minimize harm is not going to be the most riveting topic to watch, but it's also not not interesting, you know what I mean? Not a long while ago it was a hot topic of conversation to say that TV executives should bring back filler episodes because it allowed characters to breathe and everything did not have to be so dramatic all the time. Well, this is what a filler episode would look like.

Ultimately, this group of writers are not too far off D&D's level of understanding themes. The books were about how, beyond legal arguments, feudalism and patriarchy are systems in which sometimes even siblings start turning on one another because of issues like inheritance, to devastating effects: they are not systems conducive to happiness or prosperity. Instead, the show is about a villainous side vs a righteous side. They won't be able to get away from this fundamental bastardisation of the text, because they never bothered to understand what it's about and so they'll just change whatever they have to and introduce as many non-sensical elements in the adaptation to fit this misjudgment. As a result, I don't think they'll be able to satisfactorily correct S3, but I hope at least they will make it less annoying.

There are still two more episodes to go, but, my goodness, even disregarding themes, this season is scoring so low in the rewatchability department. It feels like drudgery to get through.

#ask #anon #hotd s2 #hotd critical [storytelling]

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alexandersimpleton · 10 months ago

Text

Frederick sat in the bath tub. He had been at a party. It wasn't one of those fancy ones the only royal were invited to. In fact, Frederick was pretty sure at least half of the partygoers had committed a crime at some point.

But he didn't like the rich people parties. He preferred these ones. The parties where he could get along with some of the people, and there wasn't any pressure to keep up the family title or whatever.

But it had gotten so loud... People were yelling and there was food or something and the smell of it still permeated his nostrils and just-

Ugh.

So he sat. After a few moments, he slowly began to remove his hands from where they'd been clamped against his ears. He started to relax a bit, leaning back.

And then he went right back up into fight or flight mode when the door opened and immediately slammed shut again.

Frederick looked over. There was someone sliding down the door. They had yellow boots on, and a brown hoodie with bear ears. They slid down, falling to their knees, before the room went completely silent. An epithet.

The girl turned around and sat down, relaxing a slight bit at the quiet, before immediately ceasing to do so upon seeing Frederick.

She yelled something silent for a few moments before the light green tint left her eyes.

"Ah- I'm- who are- I'm sorry- uh-" the girl stuttered around her words, tugging tight on her backpack straps, while Frederick similarly flailed to explain himself, until they had both devolved into simultaneous, incoherent mumbling that eventually tapered off into them just awkwardly staring at each other.

Frederick worried at his hoodie strings. He was wearing a dark purple hoodie with pastel purple accents around the edges of the sleeves. It had simple embroidery all over. It was several different kind of dragons, all in simple back thread. His pants, on the other hand, were simple and black.

The girl broke the silence first. "So... What're you in for? Heh heh..." Her voice broke at the end of her awkward laugh.

Frederick didn't want to talk right now "Loud..."

The girl had a look of recognition on her face. "Yeah..."

She walked over and joined him in the bath tub. "Mind if I..."

Frederick nodded.

She nodded back.

They sat in silence for a while. It was still kind of awkward, but I was a comfortable silence.

"My name is Molly by the way."

Frederick nodded. "Frederick."

The girl looked down at her lap in thought. A look of surprise crossed her face, and she snapped her head to face him. "Wait.. like, Frederick the prince!?"

Frederick blushed, but ultimately resigned to the accusation.

"Oh my gosh- uhm, I'm sorry your highness- I just didn't think that-" Molly's bumbling reflected off the walls. It felt louder than it it probably was.

The volume wasn't helped by the sound of someone crashing through the door. "Did I hear something about there being a prince in here!?"

Frederick flinched and then froze. He was 13 again, hiding from Them. They had crashed through the door, their faces sick and grinning like serpents. They would pick him up and they'd touch him and they'd hurt him and they'd- two gentle hands pulling his hands away from his scalp- Frederick vaguely heard voice in his head he didn't care he couldn't care they were holding him by his back he couldn't breath- Giovanni held him gently by the the wrists, trying to coax him to breath with him. In for 11, put for 7. He repeated the mantra. He was unresponsive at first until- the voice got louder and louder. It was telling him to breath but he couldn't. Not enough was in his lungs and his ribcage was caving in but he made it for 5 this time, and now 7... The illusion slowly faded away.

Frederick was at a party. They were commoners. Not Them. Why.. was Frederick still thinking about Them?

The boy opened his eyes. A man with pink hair was in front of him, looking him up and down for signs that he was still hyperventilating. Upon seeing that he was lucid, the man stood up the the bath tub. Frederick quietly muttered a "uhm, thank you" while wrapping his arms around his legs.

"Oh, it's all cool, it happens with Dark Star sometimes." the man responded like he'd offered to deliver a message from one of his coworkers and not like he'd just coached someone out of a flashback freak out.

...

"Anyways, Bear Trap, who's this?"

"Oh that's-" Frederick blushed and grabbed the hem of his hoodie as he looked away "prince Frederick." She told Frederick under her breath "This is VINCENT, my boss."

The man's eyes filled with sparkles. "You're a PRINCE!? Hey Bear Trap, should we rob him?"

Frederick startled a little and scooched back from the pair.

"Boss, he seems pretty nice."

"What was that Bear Trap? I'm gonna rob him unless you tell me not to."

An Assertive look crossed the Molly's face. "Boss, no. Please."

The man smiled. "Only because you asked nicely." He patted Molly, or Bear Trap, on the head. She chuckled. Frederick stared with mild bewilderment.

He turned towards Frederick. "So, what kingdom you from?"

"Plaid."

"Yeesh." The man made an expression that seemed to suggest he felt bad for him. Frederick only partially disagreed.

"Wait, doesn't that prince like, really like green? Why are you wearing purple?..." The man eyed Frederick with suspicion.

Frederick shrugged. After seeing his vibrant green eyes, everyone just started.. putting him in green. They got really upset when he wore something else. Frederick figured it was because Blaine was red and Lance was blue, so they needed another color coordinated prince.

"I don't know. People told me to. I probably look bad in purple anyways..."

"No no, you look like- like a space prince!" Molly said, Frederick only realizing now that she looked to be in middle school.

Frederick's eyes lit up. "Like the Little Prince!" He blurted out, but immediately blushed and scrunched his hood over his face. "I mean- uh-"

The man popped Frederick's personal bubble and leaned in to look at his hoodie. "Oh my gosh, is that a DRAGON!?" he asked, somehow seeming more like a middle schooler than Molly did.

"Oh yeah, it is."

"Oh my gosh, you're a prince have you slain any!? Do you have cool battle scars, can you show me a dragon!?"

"Uhm, no..."

"Oh!" He said, with zero disappointment whatsoever

"Do they actually breath fire?" Molly asked, mildly curious and a bit squeamish.

She has unwittingly set off the brain dominos.

"Oh yeah, they actually do. Or, well, the ones he was pointing at do. They're not actually fire dragons though, they're lava dragons. All that stuff about them sleeping on mountains of gold are just myths because of how they would sometimes steal gold from castle treasuries. They actually melt it down and use it for nests to raise their young. There are actual fire dragons though, They're just smaller. They have this really cool thing they do with this other species of dragon, where one produces a gas heavier than air so it sits on top of a lake and the fire dragon would set it on fire and kill tons of migrating fish and they share.. the..."

Frederick stared at the two people that he had forgotten were there. He froze in place, taking notice of how his hands were frozen mid gesture. A mortified pink slowly clouded his face.

VINCENT MURDER quickly noticed how Frederick explained things. He was the kind of kid that could make dirt sound interesting with just how excited he was. VINCENT remembered his reputation in his kingdom as the grouchy one that never smiled, but he came to realize that was because his smile would always take the show if he did.

The boy stammered, covering his mouth and making his words even less legible than they already were.

"No no, that sounds really cool" Molly said "Are those kinds of dragons on your hoodie?"

Frederick nodded

"Hm..." VINCENT murmured. "What about this one? It doesn't even have legs."

"Oh, that's an earth dragon. It's one of the only dragons that can't breath anything other than air. It makes up for it with sheer brute force"

"Cool." VINCENT said.

"Where did you even get this?" Molly asked "It looks really fancy."

"It's this clothes store in the shade kingdom. I saved my allowance for like, a year to get this..."

"You're a prince and you have to save up to buy a hoodie?" VINCENT asked, unconvinced.

"Oh, father gives my siblings way more allowance than me! I don't think he likes me very much..."

Oh God. Did he just say that out loud? He said that out loud. What is wrong with him!?

The boy chuckled awkwardly, trying to play off whatever that was.

"Why not!?" VINCENT let out a scoff of indignation. "You like DRAGONS! Who wouldn't like someone who knows this much about dragons!?"

"I mean, Blaine has his own fan club and Lance is the champion of like, 10 separate sports. I can't really do much other than read books, and I rant about things no one cares about, and I'm a coward and I'm stupid and have gross vomit colored hair and-"

VINCENT grabbed him by the collar and picked the boy up. "That's it!"

VINCENT proceeded to drag Frederick out of the bathroom and back into the party. Specifically to a bunch of teens in surprisingly good costumes.

It wasn't a costume party.

"Behold!" VINCENT said with a flourish. "MY MINIONS!"

Frederick gulped. "M- minions?"

"Yep! We're the best bad guy group in Sweet Jazz City!" VINCENT turned towards his minions. "And behold, my minions, honorary cool guy Frederick!"

The boy's head snapped towards VINCENT. "You think I'm cool?"

"Uhm, yeah?" The man said like Frederick had just asked if the sky was blue "You're a prince that knows everything about dragons. Your family is a bunch of weirdos.”

Frederick blushed a little at that. He guessed knowing about dragons was cool.

The group of teens crowded around the boy, asking about prince things and what it was like.

“Uhm, I don't kill dragons, the palace is kinda just a regular house but big (even if I wish it wasn't) and I don't have to take special classes or anything because I'm the youngest and probably not getting the throne.” Frederick tried his best to answer every question he heard, but it was all a blur.

“Guys, maybe you should stop crowding him?” Molly asked so quietly that nobody heard her. She got that same Assertive expression and said, louder “Guys, stop crowding him.”

“I'm so proud…” VINCENT murmured in the background.

The teens all backed off and started asking one by one. Or, well, about as one by one as you can get a bunch of teenagers asking questions to a foreign prince.

"Do you have like, your own armory?" One with blue hair asked, bloodlust shining in her eyes.

"I think my family does. I don't really like fighting though. I prefer reading."

The questions continued for the rest of the night. Somehow it was actually fun.

And before he knew it, he was on the stairs of the host's house, staring up at the stars with VINCENT. Just nonsensical chatter.

"What kind of books do you like to read?" VINCENT asked.

"Mostly fairy tales."

"Oh yeah, I like those too. Heros killing dragons. They are so cool.

"m hm. I d'know, I just- they make sense, y'know? Like with people, I have to take up so much effort just to look normal. With eye contact and what you're apparently supposed to act like, and when you want to move around but you're not supposed to because 'you look like a child' and I just.. fairy tales are just easy, I guess. There's a good guy and a bad guy and that's it. Sometimes I wish people were that easy..." Frederick didn't quite know why he was spilling his guts to some random from a party, but he was too tired to fight it.

"Yeah, I get it. People can be stupid sometimes, but isn't the complicated stuff worth it? To have friends and family that help you with things, and that you help with things? I think my friends are worth it, at least. Plus, I don't care if you look 'childish'" VINCENT said it in the stupidest voice he could, making Frederick laugh.

It was proceeded by a smile. A smile so small that VINCENT doubted anyone else would notice. And yet, his smile was practically as bright as the sun.

They sat silently for a moment, Frederick letting VINCENT'S words sink in.

"So, what kingdom are you from? I never got to ask you."

"Oh, I'm from- uh-" VINCENT decided to just go with honesty this time. "Pastel."

"Oh, my fiance's from there actually." Just thinking about her made Frederick smile.

"You're getting married? Are you like, way older than you look or what?"

"No, I'm 17. It's like, an arranged marriage thing."

"I.. oh." VINCENT didn't like the implications but he figured if Frederick was happy it was probably fine.. maybe.

"Her name is Gwen. She's really nice and makes really good food and I just.. I was super scared of her at first, but she's the greatest."

"You were scared of her and the made you marry her anyway?"

"I- yeah?" Frederick responded "She was the nicest person ever to me, and I just assumed she was evil because her looks creeped me out. I was just being dramatic."

VINCENT didn't respond to that. Frederick looked over to him, and he had a look that seemed like a mix of concern and contemplation.

"Hey Frederick, how would you like to be my minion?" VINCENT stuck his hand out with confidence.

"I, uhm.." Frederick felt worried, to say the least. He never had liked the idea of being evil but.. he felt like he could trust this guy. "Screw it, sure." Frederick shook the man's hand.

VINCENT excitedly sprang up onto his feet, Frederick hurriedly following. "Okay, okay, we need a bad guy name for you! Uhm, let's see.. you like dragons, and fairy tales.. dragons, fairy tales... Hey kid, what's your favorite book?"

"Uhm, The Little Prince" Frederick responded almost by reflex.

"Like a dragon.. prince.. dragon prince? Dragon... Heart! Dragon heart! What do you think?"

"Uhm, sure?" Frederick said, rather flustered by the set of words crammed into his brain so fast. In hindsight it didn't fit him very well.

VINCENT quickly reintroduced his Minions to Frederick, this time by their minion names. He reintroduced Frederick to them too, this time by Dragon Heart, with an enthusiasm that reminded him of Lance.

"Yo, Dragon Heart, we were all planning on hanging out and getting pizza after this party. You wanna come? There'll be soda..." Flamethrower drew out the word temptingly, like trying to draw an animal out of a den with treats.

"I don't think my father would let me. I'm not even supposed to be at this party.."

"What's your dad gonna do, no pony for a week?" Flamethrower said, jokingly but no condescendingly.

"My father can do a lot of things..." Frederick looked away uncomfortably. Flamethrower frowned and look at his boss. His boss nodded.

"Well," Molly said, quickly picking up on the situation "if you weren't supposed to be here anyways, than your dad's gonna punish you either way, right? Will it really be that much worse if you go to a friend's house too?"

"I guess not.. wait friend-"

"Than let's go! Woop woop!" Dark Star called out, practically dragging Frederick out the door. Before he could process what just happened he was in a car, probably Flamethrower's given how embarrassing the driver was being about him, that was definitely not meant to fit this many people.

Upon seeing Frederick, she smiled more like a cute little auntie and less like the mother than Flamethrower was calling her by.

"Aww, does my little boy have another friend?" Pinched Frederick's cheek. "And what your name?"

"Moooom stop!" Flamethrower tried to pry his mother off, but it was in vain.

"Uhm, it's-"

"Flamethrower's mom, this is our newest minion- ow" VINCENT attempted to stand up in a grand introduction but bumped his head on the top of the car "Dragon Heart!"

"Aren't you just a cute patooty!"

"Moooom" Flamethrower groaned again."

"Now, bring us to your house! We have to revel in our evilness!"

"Alright then. Buckle up everyone."

For the whole way, the entire evil team, bar Frederick, laughed evily. Even Bear Trap, but it ended up sounding more cute than evil.

And following that was a night of reveling in their evilness. Aka screwing each other over in video games.

Frederick proved that he was extraordinary gifted at Mario Cart, to the despair of everyone else.

"Beginner's luck finally running out, eh Freddy?" Said the one with purple hair and a star pin as Frederick slipped into the lower places.

"Maybe.." Frederick hadn't been better than anyone at anything before, so he was milking this for all it was worth.

So, when Frederick slipped into last place and got a blue shell, he grinned and hung onto it. He hung on until Flamethrower was just about to win first.. and then bam!

"Noooooooooooo!"

"Bwah ha ha ha ha ha!" Frederick belted out the best evil laugh he could, reveling in the screams of his fallen foe. Flamethrower had beaten him by a hair last game, and this was Frederick's revenge for all the gloating.

Silently, while Frederick wasn't looking, he fist bumped with a few other members at finally getting him to put the act down.

A few more games of getting absolutely rekt by Frederick later, VINCENT held up a phone.

"Behold, my loyal minions! I'm ordering pizza!" The theater voice dropped. "Who wants some?"

A few minions said yes, a few were too full of chips and soda from the party from earlier.

"Uhm, sure." Frederick said quietly. "I haven't had it before, so..."

The room went quite. For a moment Frederick panicked. Did he say something wrong!? Did he do something wrong!? Were they gonna-

The group all mourned for Frederick.

"If this is the cost of royalty than I wanna stay a commoner!" One yelled.

"We are getting you pizza if it's the last thing we do." Molly said, oddly serious.

Frederick ended up liking pizza. It didn't hold a candle to what Gwen could make, but he'd take this over crappy breakfast bagels any day.

And when Frederick finally fell asleep to a movie on the couch, Giovanni tucked him in, and for once Frederick didn't have a single nightmare. Just dreams of a bunch of stars taking in a little prince.

#cursed princess club #epithet erased #crossover fic #for the two people that know both these fandoms #im one of them

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traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors · 2 years ago

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I don't a hundred percent think it's valid to call myself traumatized by the clinical neglect and possible gaslighting I went through since I was a child but also I know denial is a thing tm

When I was young, like really little like seven or so, I was misdiagnosed, so I was given the wrong meds for eleven years that once even interacted with antibiotics and nearly killed me, other kids didn't exactly like hanging out with the kid that talked about going to psychiatrists on the weekly and to a therapist after school, I used to think if I couldn't buy my meds and take them everyday I'd just idk blow up or something, worst of all the incongruence of having the wrong label on me and going through all the shame and ableism without the treatment part made me start gaslighting myself, I never felt suicidal but it was like everyone else expected me to be and somewhere a long the way I was just expecting to die young anyway even if I had anxiety attacks whenever I read about the statistics and never really pictured any way in which it could happen I'd just think of how little people would mourn me and say fuck them I'll be here for as long as I can just to prove them wrong while still expecting to lose some kind of abstract fight that people projected on me

Now I got the right diagnosis and it is such a better fit, the pandemic made it really easy to test with certainty where my brain would go if left by itself and it was stability like I was told I could never attain. Since then I'm happy I'm thriving every self esteem issue I used to have is gone every guilt over expenses I used to feel is gone I have a solid support system and it's been that way for a couple years now

I just see the effects still linger in some small things. I still don't drink when my friends do even if I know it wouldn't actually mess me up that bad, I don't really know how to begin imagining a future past thirty or so for myself and changed career paths already due to it, I never thought I could have any romantic relationships despite wanting to until now and I find myself so scared something will happen to me and I'll die a virgin, people that grew up around me still show up sometimes via mutual friends or social media or attending the same college and I so desperately wish I could explain myself or that they could know me for who I actually am because I'm also curious about them in all honesty but I know in their minds I'm just the poor crazy kid and there's no way to suddenly approach them without reinforcing that, me and my classmates needed the institution to intervene in our class the other day and they sent us directly to a therapist to explain the situation and it wasn't even about me and I wasn't even alone but being there again after so many school counselors office that did the opposite of helping me I couldn't look the guy in the face even when he wasn't an old white dude and actually helped us it still left me unresponsive and jumpy when someone else I barely know got too close and needing to hang on to a friend's arm and I got dizzy and had my thoughts on loop for hours and barely got home being able to properly speak again and I kept shortly saying I was fine and trying to steer away from the others (which I never do) just because attention at that moment would be awful

And I still think it was just me trying to fool myself into making my existence more interesting than it is, like a kid pretending to be a tragic tortured soul, like I was acting out so all my friends there would pity me despite the fact I usually hate being looked at like a fragile little thing that needs help

It's difficult for me to believe the doctor would be stupid to the point of not noticing every atypical factor in matching me to that first diagnosis, the age especially, but also pretty much everything about my personality, he was either fucking arrogant enough to believe he molded me into "one of the good ones" or he did it on purpose because it's easy money when you lie to family so they think they'll have to go to you forever. I moved out of my parents as I cut contact with him and I still remember how invested he seemed in vetoing my decision and insisting that leaving me alone was a terrible idea like he never wanted me to be independent and if we asked I'm sure he'd make it seem perfectly sound and well intentioned

My mom still says I should understand they were doing their best with what they knew, that it's not their fault gender discrimination is a thing that may have weighted in favor of the wrong diagnosis in the past (even if they show no indication of growing out of those views), and wanted to help and worst of all she said that I should be grateful. I don't want to be grateful I want to stay spiteful and never have to talk to someone that looks at me like that again

I'm thinking of changing therapists to one that shares my neurodivergence and understands this stuff, part of me thinks I should work on this repulsion of being a patient and giving someone authority over my mental wellbeing ever again, and another part want to cut the cost entirely, glad to be bitter and dodgy of medical professionals forever as petty as the reason I have for it may be

I mean this in the nicest most genuine way I can but I don't know how I'll feel reading a copy paste you're valid response either It'll probably just reinforce me thinking I'm full of shit and trying to feel special if I had to guess

Hi anon,

I'm so sorry about what you've been through.

I can see how this misdiagnosis has had a huge effect on you, not only your social life but how you feel about yourself. I'm so glad you were eventually able to get the correct diagnosis, that must be so relieving. But of course I can also see how this diagnosis doesn't undo the effects of the misdiagnosis, and how there's still things you're struggling with. Particularly, with growing up not expecting to live long, it may feel unfamiliar or overwhelming to think much farther ahead in your life, or even know what to expect.

I also understand that want to be closer to the people in your life, and to not only feel like you know them on an intimate level but that they can truly know who you are, what you've been through, and how those past experiences shape the person you are today.

I feel that if you believe your friends think you're crazy, then perhaps you deserve some new friends. You deserve friends who are patient and understanding, especially after what you've been through. I can also see how your mom's outlook on the situation is damaging to you, as she seems to be trying to justify things that don't need to be justified.

It makes sense why you may want to change therapists, it can be good to have someone who understands your experiences more personally and can thus answer you from a more accurate angle. But I also understand why you may be hesitant about trying, because you've had negative experiences with medical professionals.

The thing is that trauma is defined not by what happened, but by how you responded to it psychologically. In other words, if you feel traumatized by what happened, then it's trauma. It does matter what happened, but it doesn't determine whether or not you're "allowed" to be traumatized.

I hope I could help. Please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

#mod bun #trauma talks #tw abuse #tw medical abuse #tw child abuse #tw emotional abuse #trauma details

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restnowyourhardshipisover · 2 years ago

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C'mon, chill out. Dream said he has brought up Season 2 potentially not happening in the Discord server and people were sympathetic and understanding. It is not like this is just him deciding to shit on everyone's parade, a lot of people other than him were also too demotivated to pull through with the plans. Ofc Tubbo and Tommy will be sad but it's not like Dream himself is delighted at there being so many complications with Season 2. Shit happens

Certainly, shit happens. I have been from the off pretty critical of the willingness to just wait forever on people who might-maybe want to do a finale to all be done. And waiting on Dream's vacation. I've also openly talked about how a more extended time between seasons might be productive as a lot of the fans who were creating pressure creators didn't want are the sort to move on quickly.

There was never a time in DSMP's history where some members were not experiencing some form of burn out or unavailability. That's the nature of the content creation beast.

And there were probably many contributing factors, from Dream being unresponsive to the uncertain delay, to the fandom failing to internalize that the lore would not be continuous or extant.

But let's not pretend it's "just" Tommy and Tubbo being "sad". That's frankly, extremely disrespectful to many creators on the server. Everyone on the DSMP is extremely kind and understanding so I'm sure that they were in this case too. They're all professionals. They're Dream's friends. They care about him and are going to be supportive.

But we also know that people have been waiting patiently and with baited breath for the announcement. And I'm not going to pretend doesn't suck for those that regularly streamed, for those where the server was a home or a main revenue stream. For those who'd burned out or been uninterested in the baggage heavy later parts of season one but excited to start fresh and have fun wars.

But that's also the nature of collaborative projects. Someone owns them or runs them and you have to respect their decision.

But let's talk about the post I actually made: Tubbo is, if you're unaware, currently live streaming every second of his life both waking and sleeping. While going to a major awards show. And is MY streamer. I will be deeply disappointed in everyone even peripherally involved if he has to find out from a dono, or from checking pings. Because that sucks. Go look at how much excitement is in Tubbo's eyes when he got a ping from the discord. And you tell me to calm down again for caring about those feelings.

Also while it's likely not your intent. I can not emphasize enough the irony of being told to "calm down" in this fandom for the mildest criticism of Dream (that let's be honest isn't even a critism of him so much as an acknowledgment that Tubbathon BE LIKE THAT) . People clawed at the walls and cried vengeance from their absurdist parasocial conjectures from Dream talking during Squid Game about being happy.

#discourse

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mayumiiyuu · 2 years ago

Text

vii. hellfire.

the kaleidoscope project masterlist

September, 1986, Hawkins, Indiana

I wrapped myself securely in my blanket as my eyes fluttered open. July had passed and September had just rolled in. I didn't know what day it was, all I knew was that I had locked myself up in my room since the day I came back from Oregon. Memories of that trip came flooding back to me every waking hour, all the wires and other medical equipment hooked up to my biological mother, barely keeping her alive—if you could even consider that living—faded into view, the sick, joyless laugh of Dr. Peters echoed throughout my mind, taunting me as she told me what I had done.

I couldn't even look at my own reflection after that, too ashamed, too frightened of my own face, afraid that my eyes would glitter red again.

Most people would tell me I was blessed, chosen by the gods themselves to give me the power to rearrange molecules and summon energy with a flick of my hand. They'd be wrong, utterly, stupidly wrong if they had ever thought that. My abilities were a curse, a burden to bear for the rest of my life, in constant fear that I'd hurt those closest to me.

I completely shut everyone out, pushed all my loved ones away for their own good. I was a monster, capable of doing nothing but leave destruction in my wake. Contrary to what Dr. Owens had said about me and my abilities, I wasn't a protector, a superhero who used their powers for the greater good.

I was made to be a weapon, biologically altered to decimate armies, my only purpose was to wreak havoc upon a battlefield, as Dr. Peters had said.

I called her a liar, refused to believe her. Now I did, and I regret ever going there, listening to her, having my heart ripped out and my insides tangled. But do I? Do I really? I can't bring myself to answer that.

My chest has been heavy for days now, weighed on even more as a memory of what happened when in arrived reached the front part of my brain no matter how hard I pushed it to the back. I figured my mind was stuffed full of memories, stupid painful heart wrenching memories, filled to the very brim that it managed to escape.

Once I returned home, I isolated myself, no matter how much my mother, my adoptive mother, my real mother, the mother who I didn't put into a coma, tried to reach out to me, hold me in her arms. But I was too afraid, fearful that I would somehow hurt her. She confronted me, stance stern and unyielding but voice steady and patient as it always was.

"(Y/N), please, you know you can talk to me, I'm here for you, I always am."

I knew she was, she had been with me through the most confusing parts of my life, as constant and devoted as a mother should be, what my biological mother could have been. That was why I could barely meet her eyes whenever she'd be in the room, reminded time and again of what I had done.

Seeing as I was unresponsive, she reached her hand out towards me, to squeeze my hand and bring me close as she always did whenever I was upset.

"All you will ever do is hurt people, that was what you were made for."

Dr. Peters' words flashed through my mind like lightning, quickly and rapidly, leaving nothing but agony in its wake, causing me to flinch from her touch.

"Please don't touch me," I whisper, tucking my hands behind my neck, hiding my face in my forearms as I felt my eyes glow. "I don't want to hurt you."

As I look up, guilt causes my heart to plummet to my stomach when I see hurt etched onto her features, her usually soft and kind eyes downcast as she sighed, taking her hand away.

"Okay, take your time, love. But don't even think for a second that I will ever leave you."

I close my eyes as I bring myself back into the present, clawing myself out of my own suffocating thoughts. The sunlight that filtered into my room left a bitter taste in my mouth as I remembered the dejected tone of Robin's voice over the phone, coming up with endless excuses whenever she asked me to hang out with her; the way I shut my eyes tightly as I covered my ears with my pillow that time Eddie had come to my house, hearing his crestfallen 'oh' when my mother told him I didn't want to go out.

No matter how alone I felt, it was my own doing, I had no one to blame but myself.

As night soon fell and my room grew dark, the shadows grew ever bigger, as if they were closing in on me, playing tricks on my mind. I wasn't afraid of the dark, but I was deathly afraid of silence, the kind that made your ears ring, the kind that felt so thick you could use a knife to stab through it.

It reminded me too much of the days I had spent in the cell for a room I was provided with in the labs, my mind growing numb with boredom and nothingness. I hated them all for throwing me in a cage to rot, but this time, as I locked myself into my room and pushed everyone away, the cage I put myself in were for their own safety.

My gaze turned towards the door as I heard a knock. Since I had isolated myself, my mother came to my door three times a day to leave me a meal, always writing me sweet notes of reassurance. I kept each note tucked away in my nightstand.

I cracked open the door and picked up the tray of food. She made my favorite, leaving me two juice boxes. I smiled at the memory, our initial meeting when she had gifted me a bunch of juice boxes because she noticed how much I liked them.

Another knock sounded at my door.

"Yes?"

"(Y/N), can we talk?" Came the concerned voice of my mother, soft and tender.

I close my eyes, whispers resonating throughout my skull as I leaned my back to the door. I felt the buzz of energy in my hands as they were engulfed with a red aura, clutching them to my chest, praying for it all to just go away.

"I can't.." I whisper, so quietly I don't even think she can hear me.

But she does.

"You—you don't have to come out. I just, I missed you." I don't even need to see her to feel the ache in her heart as I heard her voice falter.

"I miss talking to you, reading with you, hearing you laugh. I know it must be hard on you, whatever it was you found out on that trip, but I'm here for you, (Y/N), and as much as I want to be there for you, help you, I can't do that if you won't let me."

I let out a shaky breath, gritting my teeth together to prevent a sob from erupting in my throat.

"You mean the world to me, (Y/N), and it hurts me to see you hurting, knowing I can't do anything."

Throughout all the fear I held inside my heart, I searched hard and deep for some sort of courage, to harden my resolve and open the door and throw myself into my mother's arms.

"I-I heard you," I say, slowly, I don't find courage, all I find is another memory. "I heard you that day, when I met Joyce and Will and Jonathan. I always wondered how quickly you adopted me, fostered me, when I was told it would take years for that to happen. So why? Why did you take me in?"

A moment of silence passes before I hear a sigh from the other side of the door.

"You remember when you asked me about dating people?" I hear a soft chuckle as she says that, tittering as well, that moment fresh in my mind as she brought it up. "I told you I didn't want to get married, never really did. But I knew I wanted kids."

I twiddle with my fingers as I listened to her intently, loud and clear despite the door that divided us.

"I tried to adopt, to foster, been through all the orientations, but—I don't know, I felt like I wasn't ready. Until I met you," the weight I felt on my chest seemed to lighten at her words. "I knew you needed someone, I told you I knew what that was like, to be alone your entire life, my parents passed away when I was little. I was left with my aunt, who wasn't the best person. For most of my life I was guarded, too afraid to care. Until I found my passion in medicine, knowing that I somehow made a difference in people's lives opened up my heart. It was hard unlearning all that, but I did, slowly. And the moment I spoke to you, got to know you, I knew that you needed someone. So you wouldn't end up like I did."

Finally, I find a drop of courage within myself as I stand, unlocking the door with a click, creaking softly as I opened it.

My mother held her arms wide open, welcoming and nurturing. That was when I knew how truly unwavering and unconditional her love for me was as she held me in her arms.

The shadows that clawed at my mind, the ghosts of my past that hung around to haunt me dissipated as I felt the warm embrace of my mother.

....

I had a week left before school, unsure how to spend it since I've been avoiding my friends left and right, so I spent most of my days reading and making art.

I sat at my desk, scribbling furiously at my paper as I sketched an idea that randomly came into my mind as I waited for another piece to dry. My room was a mess, surrounded by gesso and charcoal and cups of dirty paint water because I was too in the zone to replace them (and I also may or may not have felt lazy). I had just finished sketching out a flower that crawled from a messy, bleeding, volcano heart when I heard a tap on my window.

My eyes glow involuntarily, taken by surprise at the sound, whispering a soft 'shit' when I noticed I had accidentally scorched the paper when my suddenly fingers fizzled with energy.

I huff, standing from my hunched over position as I walk towards my window, figuring that a bug was buzzing around, trying to get in. I jolt, stupefied as I saw the infamous grin of none other than Eddie Munson.

I scramble to open my window.

"Jesus, Eddie, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"I could be asking you the same thing, toots," he grunts as he fumbled through my window, very ungracefully crashing onto the hardwood floor with a thump. "Why've you been avoiding me?"

I reach my hand out to him, helping him to his feet.

"It's not just you." I mutter, unsure what to say.

"And here I was starting to think I was special." He says sarcastically, placing a hand over his chest to feign hurt, but I knew the look in his eye was genuine.

"I'm sorry, I just, I haven't been in the right state of mind lately."

"Good to know you've finally realized how batshit crazy you are." He nods.

I shove him lightly. "Shut up, weirdo."

"I'm the weirdo? Speak for yourself," He snorts, ruffling my hair. "Got paint all over your clothes and face like you're a regular Jackson Pollock."

I laugh at his antics, swatting his hand away from my head as my cheeks burned. I always reacted that way whenever he touched me, butterflies swarming and the tips of my ears flushing like a lovesick teenager—which I most definitely was not, I think. Whatever was between him and me was strictly platonic. I brushed off each of his shows of affection for playfulness.

"So," he starts, hands on his hips as he quirked a brow at me. "You gonna tell me why you've been holed up in your room for weeks?"

I bite my lip, unsure whether or not to tell him the truth, whether he could even handle it. "It's..complicated. I'm sorry."

"Well," he blows a breath through his mouth, causing his lips to form a fart in noise, which I laugh at. "I can think of some ways you can make it up to me."

I raise a brow at him. "Yeah? Hit me."

"Just follow me, alright?" He says before he's back to slipping out my window, just as clumsily as before. He looks back at me, gesturing me over when he sees my hesitation. "Come on, Willows!"

I shake my head, my tongue poking out of my mouth as I smirked. Leave it up to Eddie Munson to finally get me out of my house.

....

We rode in his van, aimlessly driving around Hawkins until we reached a clearing, fields of grass with wildflowers that poked through it sheened silver as the light of the moon gleamed.

"What're we doing here?" I turn to Eddie as he opens the door.

"Thought you'd like to go moon watching, maybe hunt for ghosts and spooky shit." He smiles as he helps me out.

"Pretty sure we're a few months early for that." I nudge him with my elbow.

"Why? Don't ghosts just exist everywhere?" He shrugs, slinging an arm around my shoulder as we walked through the grass.

"Yeah but it's be easier to find them on Halloween, y'know, when the veil is thin and all."

He scoffs as he plops down on the ground, splaying his legs out while he rested his head on his hands. "Never took you for the superstitious type, sweets."

I roll my eyes at him as I take up my own spot, the grass felt soft and downy against my aching back, maybe I needed to improve my posture.

"Eh, I'm a little stitious."

Eddie cackles at my joke, nudging me with his knee. "That was a good one." He holds a hand up for a high-five.

"I know right?" I slap his hand, and for a moment I feel his hand linger against mine, pulling away quickly as I looked away. It was as if my hands fizzled with electricity as ours collided, but as I look to my palm I saw no red glow.

"Hey," he gets up, propping himself on his elbows. "You okay?"

I shake my head. "It's nothing."

"Definitely not nothing if it's part of the reason why you've been pushing Robin away, too."

I turn to him, puzzled as my eyebrows furrow. "You—you talked to her?"

"Yeah I mean, I wanted to check how you were doing, even if you didn't talk to me, so I figured Buckley would be the next best thing." He fishes a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket accompanied by a lighter. I watch as his lips wrap around its butt as he flicks on the lighter. I tear my gaze away before he notices.

"Oh," I mutter softly. "Sorry, it's just, yeah, like I said, it's complicated." I hug my knees to my chest, resting my head.

"Well, I'm here for you, as much of an idiot as I make myself out to be, I give pretty good advice." He says as he takes a puff of nicotine, blowing the smoke on the other side so the breeze didn't let it float towards me.

I arch my brow at him, incredulous. "Yeah? You mean like that one time you helped me smuggle a kitten into school? Or wait, maybe that one time you dared me to jump into the lake for shits and giggles might've been a better example of your sage advice."

"Silence, young Padawan," Eddie says as he raises his hand right in front of my face, causing me to snort as I shoved it away.

"You're not that much older than me, you know."

Eddie scoffs, rolling his eyes. "As far as I know, I'm practically a gazillion years older than you, Willows."

An image pops up in my mind, my real birthdate typed down on my case file.

"Actually, I uh, just found out recently that I'm technically older than I thought I was,"

He cocks his head at me, almost bird-like with the way he stares at me curiously. "What do you mean?"

I sigh, shaking my head. "I was actually born in like, '68 so.."

Eddie's eyes grow wide before he slaps his hand on his forehead, throwing his head back in laughter, smoke rising from his mouth as he held the cigarette with the corner of his lips. "Damn, you are old!"

I flick his forehead, sticking my tongue out at him. "Not as old as you, grandpa!"

We both giggle like children as we both attempt to poke each other playfully, cigarette stick long forgotten as he stubs it out on the grass, swatting each other's hands and dodging each poke as we goofed around. Eddie's hands were quick to tickle my sides, causing me to squeal as I fell back, guffawing so hard my stomach hurt.

I shut my eyes tightly, holding my hands against my chest to ensure they didn't accidentally buzz him with energy—which has happened once before, quickly covering up the mistake by telling him it must've been static energy.

"Stop! Eddie I swear, I will actually bite you!"

“Why? So you can turn me into a werewolf? Don’t mind if I do!”

He doesn't stop his ministrations, so I snapped my jaw at him threateningly, causing him to flinch, which then only made him harden his resolve as he tickled me mercilessly. Having had enough, I wrapped my legs around his waist, flipping us over so I was on top. I swiftly pinned his wrists down, my chest swelled with pride as his once defiant smile faded into one of surprise.

"I said stop." I say, breathless from laughter. He stared up at me, brown eyes gazing deeply into mine before his gaze flickered to my lips—only then I had noticed how close we were, noses almost touching as I felt his breath on my face.

I feel my cheeks warm, releasing him from my grip as I slid off of him. "Sorry." I mumble.

"Nothing to be sorry about, sweetheart," He rubs the back of his head. "Though I will say, next time you plan on pinning me to the ground, maybe—just maybe, give me a warning?"

I giggle, rolling my eyes as I nudged his shoulder. "Whatever."

A moment of silence passes between us, no tension filled the air, no incessant worry to fill up any awkwardness with idle chatter, just peaceful, comfortable silence. The only sound that filled the air were the hum of crickets. We lay down on the grass, admiring the moon and the stars.

In that moment, everything seemed to be okay. My worries far behind me as I laid beside him, pointing at groups of stars and making up our own constellations. Stars and stars, nights and nights, wandering the small world of Hawkins, but in that moment, we were in our own world, a world too big and bright and too full of stars for sleep.

It's almost the early hours of the morning when he parks in front of my house, opening up the door for me, ever the gentleman, as always, his fingers brushing the small of my back as he helped me back up into my room through the window.

Before I can wave him goodbye and goodnight, his eyes light up as if a lightbulb switched on in his brain.

"Oh shit, almost forgot!" He sprints towards the direction of his van, I cock my head in confusion when he returns, something in his hand as he tosses it over to me, which I catch—barely, it hits my face. Damn you Munson and your deadly throw.

I unfold it, it was a shirt, crumpled and unkempt, but my eyes widen in realization as I saw the logo. Hellfire Club.

I remember how Eddie had pulled me by my hand that one time he had spotted me eating by myself, nose tucked securely between the pages of a book. He forced me out of my recluse, as he so often did, introducing me to his friends. We spent that lunch hour sketching and doodling various potential logos for his club, muttering critiques into my ear as he drummed his ringed fingers on the table.

"You're invited to our campaign!" He whisper-shouts, loud enough for me to hear but quiet enough not to wake my mother.

I wave at him as he jogs off, sending me a lopsided grin as he waved back.

I went to my bed with a smile on my face that night.

....

March 21, 1986, Hawkins, Indiana

I jolted forward in my bed, waking up in a cold sweat as I recalled the nightmare I just had. A nightmare not built upon past memories, this one seemed far too real despite the otherworldly elements tied to it. Glowing red portals, the sickening sound of something snapping, and the sound of a ticking clock resounded in my head as I ran from a shadowy figure.

I closed my eyes to calm me down, evening out my breathing as I felt my fingers spark. I lay back onto bed, promising to myself that I'd get a good night’s sleep, for the sake of the last chapter of the sadistic campaign Eddie had designed. I needed energy for that.

Being friends with Eddie meant indulging in his interests, Dungeons and Dragons being a particularly big one that occupied his mind almost always—apart from metalhead music, his hyper fixation on guitar, and other miscellaneous nerdy hobbies. I didn't mind, I loved seeing his eyes light up whenever he talked about something he was passionate about, my eyes tracing over his smile lines in adoration.

"Can't believe you're genuinely friends with that dude, (nickname)." Steve grumbles after having had a strange conversation about Robin, the object of her affection (Vickie), and boobies.

"You know, if you only got down from your high horse and actually talked to him, you'd see he's not too bad." I hum as I zip up my backpack, finishing some last minute homework.

"I beg to differ." He rolls his eyes, causing Robin to elbow him.

"Then beg." I say flatly, face completely blank of any emotion.

"I—excuse me?" Steve shakes his head, a dumbfounded expression on his face as he looks at me through the rear view mirror.

"You're excused." I smile as I apply a coat of strawberry flavored lip gloss.

We eventually make it to school, giving Steve a pat in his shoulder as a quick thank you before Robin and I got out, laughing with one another as we joked about something I couldn't quite remember while we headed towards the gym for the pep rally.

"Good luck Robin!" I call out to her as she stalks towards the other band kids, giving me a smile and a wave.

The pep rally came and went, and soon I found myself sat beside Robin, scribbling in my notebook, glancing at Eddie now and again as he made his theatrical speech, snorting at the face he made at Jason.

Robin side-eyes me as she nudged my arm. "See something you like, Willows?"

I roll my eyes at her. "Shut up."

She chuckles, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, did I tickle a heartstring there?"

Memories of that night with Eddie stirred my heart, the way his gaze flickered to my lips caused my face to burn. I quickly turn away from her. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Riiight." Robin hums, grinning. She toys with the sleeve of my top, the front of it displaying the logo for the Hellfire Club. "Nice shirt."

Even now, as I stood in the dimness of the club room, preparing for the campaign, Robin's shit eating grin is plastered in my head, burned into my skull as I silently fumed. Stupid Robin and her stupid teasing. Why was I so affected anyway?

I stumble as I bump into something—someone, rather, who put their hands on my shoulders to steady me.

"Woah, easy, babe, you'll trip over your own feet if you don't watch where you're going." Eddie chuckles before he makes his way over his throne, sat like a true Dungeon Master, intent on making this campaign a treacherous adventure through hell.

I shake my head at him, only for my gaze to fall upon the door as Mike and Dustin walk into the room, a girl standing between them who I presumed to be their sub, since Lucas had his big game tonight.

"Absolutely not." Eddie's voice echoes throughout the room.

"You asked for a sub, and we delivered." Dustin gestures towards the girl.

"This is Hellfire Club, not babysitting club." Eddie comments, causing the others to laugh while I arch an eyebrow, already interested as the girl who glared at him.

"I'm 11, you long-haired freak." She fires back, causing my eyes to widen at her confidence.

The standoff ensues, Eddie walks over towards her, taunting her, to which she responds with a snide comment, causing Gareth and Jeff to snicker, which earns them a glare from Eddie.

"What's your class and level? Level 1 dwarf?"

I roll my eyes playfully as the others laugh, crossing my arms across my chest.

"My name is lady Applejack," the girl who we now knew as Erica, Lucas' younger sister, starts, completely unfazed even as Eddie towers over her. "And I'm a chaotic good half-elf rogue, level 14. And I will sneak behind any monster you throw my way and stab them in the back with my poison-soaked kukri. And I'll smile as I watch them die a slow, agonizing death. So, we gonna do this? Or we gonna keep chitchatting like this is your mommy's book club?"

I let out a chuckle, shaking my head as I nodded towards her.

"I like her."

"Good to see someone in this club has a brain." She remarks with a shrug.

Eddie smirks, holding his hand out for her to shake.

"Welcome to Hellfire."

....

After a relentless, absolutely brutal game, I finally got the chance to rub a win into Eddie's stupidly adorable—er, okay-looking face, as Erica rolls a perfect 20, signaling a critical hit.

Long live the power of women.

I walk out the doors to the school, laughing, rejoicing and celebrating with the others at our victory. Eddie wraps an arm around me and I have to use all the willpower within myself not to explode as his eyes find mine.

"Had fun?"

I shrug. "Guess you make a pretty good Dungeon Master, Munson."

"Don't I know it?" He chuckles as I nudge him. "Hey, I gotta go, wanna hang out tomorrow?"

"You mean 'would I like to watch while you practice the solo to Master of Puppets'?" I arch a brow at him, causing him to pat me on the back. "Sure, pick me up whenever."

"You know me way too well, Willows." He shakes his head as he removes his arm from my shoulders.

That night, as I lay on my stomach, book in hand as I immersed myself yet again in another world, I let out a hiss as I felt my head suddenly start to pound. I massage my temples, a migraine as worse as the ones I had when I used to be forcibly tranquilized racks my brain.

Visions engulf my mind, red lightning against dark clouds, bat-like creatures screeching as they swarmed, a house in fractures that floated in the air, a disfigured creature walking towards me.

Chimes of a clock echo in my ears as my head continues to throb. Then it fades away in an instant.

My eyelids flutter open, I feel my fingers twitch with energy, causing me to rub them until they stopped.

My stomach turns as I feel the hairs at the back of my neck stand, my intuition screamed at me that something was wrong.

I shuddered, remembering the dark figure in my dreams, the glowing red portal that split the ground open.

What the hell was that?

....

taglist: @preciousbabypeter @iiheartbowie @beebeerockknot @nightless @lovelydivs @r-royce @lunar-flwr @naughty-koala07 @slutforsteve @chaoticvigilantes @loudbluepancake

#eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #stranger things season 4 #stranger things #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things smut #eddie munson smut #stranger things fic

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lookforthefuture49 · 3 years ago

Text

Yo!

I got a fanfiction, finally. I don't expect it to be read much here, but here are the links to fanfiction.net and Ao3 pages for it respectively:

Ao3

Fanfiction.net

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13947355/1/Universal-Wars-aren-t-fun

Ok now I can paste it.

Enjoy <3

[Note: this story is only to be on Archive of Our Own/Fanfiction.net under the username DoubleKKookie and on Tumblr under the username Retrooutlaw. IF YOU SEE IT ANYWHERE ELSE, PLEASE SHOOT ME A PM! This is also kinda meant for funsies, obviously.]

Note note: half created by AI Dungeon. Yay for Ai Generated fanfiction lol

[Universal wars aren't fun//1//Battlegrounds]

Izuku's hair ruffled in the wind, the view of a crumbling city crossing his vision. It was odd, how one minute the world was peaceful, and the next an inter-dimensional war decided to happen. During this war of many universes, most of his world was ravaged. Izuku figured he would probably be safe, at least for now. His world might be a battleground, but he wasn't in the midst of the fight. He wouldn't hurt people from other worlds just because some of their worst villains wanted to attack other places. In fact, Izuku just wanted an excuse to help these new people, to stop their worlds from being ruined too. His plan was to travel between the worlds.

Except, all he got was a dazed sense of incompleteness as the world around him seemed to flicker. For a moment, it seemed as if he were home again visiting his mother over a break, excited to see what his friends did. He could feel a couple of tears form, but of happiness, of joy. However, just as quickly as this flicker came, it left, and he came to the realization he was just remembering the past, that he was still alone in the forest, and that seemed to worsen his sad state.

Izuku turned and took a few steps. He had to get moving, and he had to get moving now. He didn't quite know where he was going, but he knew it was far from his home. All he knew was that he had to keep moving, and find a new reason to fight. So, Izuku decided to just keep walking. He made his way through the forest, dodging branches and occasional bokoblins.

Bokoblins were odd, as he'd never seen them before the inter-universal war began. They hadn't even kinda existed in his world, but now he felt like he was fending the creatures off every other step. He never attacked them, but it seemed like he was constantly running from them, even if they were obviously weak.

This rural area he'd found himself in looked to be nearly untouched by the war. Still, there was this odd sense of unease, and Izuku felt like he was being watched. Like he was being watched every step of the way.

Fearful of this feeling of a watchful eye burning a hole into his back, he began to speed up, getting to the point of running. Running as far as he could, as fast as he could.

The more he ran, the faster he felt himself becoming. He couldn't tell what time of day it was, but he knew that it had to be night.

He ran for what felt like an eternity before stopping, legs buckling under him

He fell to the ground, trying not to cry out. He stood back up, deciding if he was going to be upset about a stupid war, he was gonna do it where it was safe, so he stumbled away from the wide open area he was in, and eventually found a flat-topped building, which he entered before reaching the roof and staring out at the more rural area he had found himself in. What modern building were there, such as this one, were overrun with vines and ivy.

He sat down on the roof and wrapped his arms around his knees, finally letting everything soak in. This situation was garbage. He'd been left behind by the civilians who escaped, he had no idea where his friends were, and he had no way of contacting any heroes or any of his peers to come to his aid.

Izuku didn't want to think about the possibility that they were all dead, but looking at the modern buildings being overtaken like this one, he couldn't help but think such a thing. If the entire town was this destroyed, how on earth could THEY be ok?

He didn't understand how something so bad could happen. How the world could ever go back to normal after what was happening right now, Izuku didn't know. But, all he could do now was try to help, and help he would. The moment he saw a portal open, it was his door to purpose, to other people, whoever they were.

He didn't care what world he stepped into. He didn't care if he died, he just wanted to make a difference. It was no longer about this world, about him, or any of the pro-heroes he once loved. Now, if it meant death, he'd stop this war. He decided right then and there he'd do it for his friends, for his family, for All Might, and for whoever he met on the other side of the portal he was adamant on finding.

He wouldn't fail. Lifting his arms from his legs, he rested his face against his knees and took a deep breath. He lifted his head up, staring to the sky.

"I promise, I'll save everyone. No matter what."

...

Izuku sat on that roof for several more minutes before deciding to resume his search. He stood up, left the roof, and began to walk again- until he heard something. Multiple people, a fair distance away behind him. Judging from what he was hearing of the conversation, they hadn't noticed him yet, and were rather focused on someone who sounded distressed and wanted to get away from them. He hid behind the building as the group of people came into sight, listening into their conversation closely.

"LET ME GO!" He heard peirce the air, and when he could see the group, he noted the man who yelled it was being dragged by the arms by two other people, and this man also looked.. unexplainably odd. His appearance didn't matter now, though. What was important was the predicament he was in.

"Would you just put me down already!?" He snapped again.

His supposed captors looked even angrier than they had initially.

"Our leader says that's not allowed, bucko." One of the two people holding him said. His voice was gruff and southern.

He had a goatee and his hair was slicked back. The other one was female, model-esque.

She had long, curly blonde hair, calm blue eyes and slick red lipstick, which was weird for someone to be wearing in this kind of situation.

"Our orders are very clear. Boss wants you."

"I DON'T KNOW WHO YOUR STUPID BOSS IS BUT I CAN ASSURE YOU-"

The southern-sounding captor pulled a lighter from his pocket, and with it lit, rammed it into the torso of the man. He let out a blood-curdling scream and then didn't say another word afterwards. he, nor his clothes, had caught on fire, oddly enough. The southern guy snarled at the man. Izuku wasn't entirely sure who was good or bad in this situation, but he was irked by the entire scene. The only hard part was deciphering if the one who was captured by these two was good or bad, as saving a villain in the midst of a crazy war would be pretty counter-productive. From the way this man's captors were talking, however, he figured he was either a hero like him, or just in the moral gray trying to stay out of things.

Taking a risk, he stepped out from the shadows...

"Stop!" He yelled at the top of his lungs. They turned to look at him, and their eyes went wide.

He pointed at the man. "You two! Release him right now!"

"What do you think you're doing?" The southern one hissed angrily. "This is none of your business, kid! Go back to where you came from!"

His eyes flicked to the man, who seemed to be either knocked out or unresponsive, as he hadn't even twitched when Izuku shouted in his general direction.

"I don't care! He's being mistreated! I won't stand for it!"

The model (At least, Izuku assumed she was a model) whisper-hissed something at her comrade, who just scowled and shook his head. The two started arguing in hushed voices, as the man they dragged here was now beginning to stir.

When he did open his eyes, fear was clear in them immediately, probably thinking the glare Izuku was directing at his enemies was for him. He calmed after a moment, however. The pair seemed bugged but opted to leave without the man now that they'd been found by someone else. (Maybe that's what they were arguing about) They dropped the man harshly, although he didn't seem to be bothered by this at all. He seemed more bothered by the burn mark just below his chest, which, while small, seemed to be quite painful. It was hard for Izuku to gauge what the man was feeling, though, since he looked dead. Not just figuratively, but quite literally rotten and dead. It was strange, but Izuku decided not to question it, for that wouldn't help either of their situations. He instead walked up to the man, hoping to maybe initiate a conversation.

"Hey, um..." Izuku wasn't really sure what to say to him. He didn't know his name, for one.

The other was that he looked like he'd been through hell and back. He had a multitude of scars, both old and new, on his face and body. They were either dark purple, black, or was a hole, which revealed an empty vessel underneath. In fact, his entire complexion was purple, which struck Izuku as off. Any normal person, quirk or not, definitely was not supposed to be dead and purple.

"Are you alright?" Izuku decided to start with. Simple enough.

"Yeah, I'm perfectly fine." (That comment definitely didn't pan out, but Izuku didn't know his life. Maybe this was normal.) Izuku noted a prominent British accent, one he hadn't noticed while the man was shouting angrily, which was odd, because he probably should have. Taking a closer look at him, the strange man was thin, mangy, and also lacked hair. His pupils were glowing, which also really was strange, and the whites of his eyes were now, instead, pitch black. It was somewhat unsettling, but Izuku tried not to think much of it.

"What was all that about?"

"Frankly, I dunno. One minute everything was normal and I was sitting at home, and the next those two were dragging me along to their 'boss'." He replied.

"I tried to get away, but it wasn't exactly easy. I kinda miss having muscles." He said this in a very nonchalant way, shrugging. Evidently, this man was missing vital body parts, who knows how many, and he was acting like it was completely fine.

"I... see," Izuku said, though he wasn't sure what else to say.

"So, what about you, kid? What's your name?"

"Izuku. Call me Deku, please." He stuck out a hand.

"Michael." The other shook his hand, and Izuku noted that he felt no bones in his hand, like it wasn't solid. It was strange, completely empty. "Uhm, do you know what's been going on lately?"

Michael did not reply immediately. "I dunno, something about some war? It didn't seem to pertain to me until I was dragged into a different world entirely, but feel free to explain."

"All I'm really sure of right now is that there is an Inter-Universal War going on right now, and I want it to end. Mostly because it's left my home a wreck, and I don't want that to happen to anybody else's."

Michael nodded in understanding.

"I can appreciate your feelings on the matter."

...

"How long have you been here?"

"Probably only a little over 2 hours."

Izuku had given Michael the choice to stick with him or go off on his own, and, not knowing what else to do, he agreed. Now they walked aimlessly as Izuku tried to explain a bit about what his world used to be like, and just make small talk. Izuku had decided the moment Michael agreed to tag along that he would not question his purple complexion or the lack of internal structure. It seemed like it might be rude, or bring back bad memories if he said the wrong thing, and he didn't want to cause that.

"I see."

They continued in silence for about an hour, before Michael spoke up again.

"I think I prefer this place over my home, truth be told."

Izuku was a little surprised that he would say something so out of nowhere. "Why?" He asked.

"I could go on for days about the terrible things that happened there." Michael sighed. "I don't particularly like dwelling on the past, so I tried to block it out. But here, it's all right. Even the atmosphere feels less oppressive, even if it's obviously still chaotic here."

Izuku frowned. "That's a pretty deep feeling to come up with so suddenly.

"I've had plenty of time to think, and this is the only conclusion I've come to."

...

The night took a long time to come, and Izuku still could find no portals, nor salvation in another world. He would have to wait another day. The pair sat down, and Izuku found himself falling asleep quite quickly...

It seemed like only seconds had passed when he felt something pulling him back to reality. He opened his eyes, and saw that the sky was beginning to turn pink.

"Get up." Michael whispered.

Izuku squinted, kind of annoyed. "Why?" He whispered back.

"I hear a large group of people coming, and I don't want to risk anything."

"Alright." Izuku nodded.

He stood up, as quietly as he could, and stretched, yawning. He was about to head off when he heard the sounds of many feet marching nearby. They were getting closer every second. He halted said stretching, and opted to climb up a tree. Michael made an attempt to hide, slipping behind a tree, but he was pretty easy to spot if one simply looked a little.

Izuku looked down at the group of men, as they marched by. His only question was why they were marching along together like this, and here of all things. They almost looked like soldiers, marching along with random weapons in hand. They were of varying species, although Izuku did not pay mind to this. When they passed and were far enough, Izuku leaped down and gestured for Michael to follow him as they tailed the group to see where they were going.

"What is this?" He hissed. They were headed towards a large open area. The group marched on, keeping pace, until they were they were the size of ants in distance. Izuku looked out to the open, treeless plains ahead. It took a minute to click in his mind, and he realized as Michael caught up what the plains were.

They were in the midst of a battlefield.

That's a wrap :D

#fanfiction #fnaf #five nights at freddy’s #my hero acadamy #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

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angellesword · 5 years ago

Text

Silver Dust

Summary: Yoongi proposed to you and you're contemplating whether to say yes or no.

Pairing: Songwriter Yoongi x Gender Neutral Reader

Genre: Fluff, fluff, and fluff.

Word count: 6.7k

Warnings/ author's note: I wrote like a whole ass song using Cypher pt.4 beat lmaooo, kissing, minor smut, mention of rape, abuse, killings, and corruption.

<<< The first meeting >>>

The first time you met Yoongi's eyes wasn't really that special.

There was no sign of your heart skipping a single beat, if there was, you're 100% sure he's not the reason behind it because 1) you pretty much believed it's just the effect of drinking three shots of espresso in one sitting. 2) You were damn nervous since your prelim grades were already out.

You didn't even feel any butterfly in your stomach, nor did your world light up—and this, to be honest, was understandable, especially when Yoongi's eyes were dead as fuck. You figured that if it wasn't for your shared seven am class, he would probably still be lying in bed.

"The professor said you're my partner for this project." Even the first time you heard his voice wasn't special.

If there's one thing that made Yoongi Yoongi, it's his monotonous voice. At first, you thought he just didn't like the idea that you two were stuck together to work on a project. (Again, it's understandable) You also found it ridiculous that your professor actually paired you with a stranger.

Well, it's not like you knew Yoongi. Unless knowing his full name counted. But really, it's inevitable since the two of you went to the same classes since freshman year (you're a senior now) apart from that, almost all your professors never failed to voice out their adoration for him.

You first heard his name when your history instructor made it very clear that Min Yoongi's works would be his "standard" when it came to grading your individual projects. In short, if Yoongi got an A, you and your classmates should also either get an A or an A+ or else, you're considered 'failed.'

It’s kind of fucked up, really. Most of you knew that Min Yoongi was a monster when it came to collecting As. Unfair. All he did during class lectures was sleep and yet, he still managed to be number one.

Huh. It must be awesome to be God's favorite.

There was also this one time when one of your professors, Mr. Bang, cried when he asked Yoongi to read his essay in front. The smart boy was reluctant at first. He despised exposure, that's for sure. However, the professor's so persistent that Yoongi obliged just to make the annoying instructor shut up.

You're actually glad Mr. Bang managed to persuade Yoongi. His speech about finding yourself and being happy made Mr. Bang and almost everyone in your class cry. Yoongi transformed into a completely different person the moment he started his speech. Monotonous Voice? Gone.

You figured that yes, your heart didn't skip a beat when you first caught his eyes, but boy did your heart hurt when those simple words leaving his mouth turned into a piece of art.

<<< Your one brain cell >>>>

The second time you met Yoongi's eyes was in front of his house. The two of you decided to work on your project at the school's library, however the place was loaded with students cramming their paper works and you just couldn't bear to hear another person aggressively typing on their laptop anymore. You were sick of it.

"Uh, hi?" you awkwardly smiled at the blond man in front of you.

You weren't quite sure how to react when he was just staring at you blankly. Yoongi's lips were pursed together and that alone made you uncomfortable.

"We were supposed to meet at the library..." He raised his brow as if he wanted to know how the hell did you know where he lives? And were you a fucking stalker?

"I..." You instantly trailed off when he narrowed his brow more. Man, he sure was intimidating. The lack of spark in his eyes made you wince. The man in front of you had thick, low set brows—making them appear almost completely straight. (Poker face alert)

You swallowed the thick lump in your throat before trying to form a coherent sentence.

"There...people. I mean, the library is packed with uh, people."

"So you just decided to show up in my house?"

His question made you quiver. This was such a wrong move. Of course you couldn’t just knock on his door like this; you two were not even friends!

"I'm sorry. I just didn't know any other place and I..." You heaved a deep sigh. "I saw your friend Jeongguk and he told me where you live—“

"Right." He cut you off by opening the door wide. Of course it had to be Jeongguk. That little shit really knew how to annoy Yoongi.

"Holly peed on the couch so there's no way we can work there. Is my room okay to you?" Despite not seeing his face, you instantly knew that Yoongi's question was directed at you. He was leading the way inside his house and you're behind him, quietly following where he's going.

Yoongi's house was not that big, but it's a lovely and comfortable place. Unlike your dorm, you felt at home here. It's probably the indoor plants that made the place more alive. You suddenly wondered if he's living with someone. Did the love of his life stay here? Or did he have a roommate? You're adamant that he lived alone; otherwise all these plants would probably be dead.

You weren't really a judgmental person, you're rather logical. Yoongi slept during class hours; he couldn't be bothered by moving a single inch, too. You guessed that he hated any form of activity and maybe, that included watering plants.

You were about to ask him if he lived alone when your voice had been overpowered by loud, boisterous bark.

"Oh! Hello there, little guy..." A giggle escaped from your lips when a small dog went your way to lick your exposed legs.

You squatted in front of the puppy so you could pet his furry head.

"Holly, no!" Yoongi called the attention of the brown poodle, but it couldn't care less. The dog named Holly still continued to ask for your affection.

"Holly!"

You almost whined when Yoongi took Holly away from you. You're sure the puppy hated it too. But Yoongi told you that his pet needed to learn his lesson first. The naughty dog really peed on the couch right after his bathroom training. Yikes!

Yoongi let you inside his room after your little encounter with Holly. The vibe of his room contradicted the overall theme of the house, but you had expected it to be this way nonetheless.

His bedroom walls were painted dark blue, too dark it's almost close to black. There's nothing much in his room except a single bed, a study area with lots of technical devices, and oh!

Amusement danced in your eyes when you noticed different manga books on his shelf. You didn't think that Yoongi was the type of person who would dwell on such things, but what really caught your attention was his album collection.

"You like Epik High!?" you couldn't help your enthusiasm when your eyes found the band's album called Shoebox resting on the black metallic shelf near his bed. Damn. Shoebox was your best-loved album of all time! You liked all songs by Epik High, however nothing could ever top the said album for you. Your ultimate favorite song had to be Amor Fatti. That song slapped, though its meaning was often misunderstood by many.

Yoongi only spared you a few glances from the moment you showed into his house, this time, however, he was looking at you intently and for the first time, you saw him smile, a shy one at that.

"Yeah...they're the reason why I write songs..." He whispered, too soft you barely heard it.

You even blinked. Did you hear him right?

"Oh, you're a songwriter?" You flashed a loop-sided smile that made Yoongi's cheeks red.

"Uh, well...it's just what I like to do during my free time."

You nodded and hummed, your eyes were still busy roaming around his room when an idea popped in your mind.

"So why don't we make use of your talent and write a song for this project?" You caught Yoongi's eyes again, but this time, it didn't look dead, truthfully, his pupils dilated when he heard what you just said.

You instantly defended your suggestion.

"I mean, we don't really have a plan, and now we have. I think you're pretty good at it so it'll make our jobs easier. I can sing, don't worry..."

You hated saying that, though you didn't have a choice. You needed to convince him that producing a song would be such a good idea.

Your professor said you needed to make something, anything that would elicit a reaction from him and your classmates. This was a psychology class and your topic for midterm was all about emotions. Mr. Kim Seokjin, your professor, was tired of doing all the talking, especially because your class was unresponsive, so to save his voice (and brain cells probably) he told the whole class that the remaining meeting for midterm would be about his students showcasing their talents that wold, like what you had said, gain extreme emotions from your classmates. It's actually easy except that you're paired with someone you were not close with. On top of that, the presentation of the project shouldn't exceed ten minutes, and lastly, it should be personal.

You spent days thinking about what you and your partner could do, but your brain cells weren't cooperating since you only had two of it, the first one was sleeping and the other only knew the words "Nothing, bitch."

And so now that your former brain cell decided to wake up and save you from your misery of being stupid (even if it's just for good three minutes) you're willing to take it.

Before your 180 seconds ran out, you immediately started blabbing words to convince Yoongi to produce a song with you.

And guess what? Your convincing power must be really good (or maybe you're just as annoying as Mr. Bang and Yoongi just wanted you to shut up too) but hey, at least Yoongi agreed!

<<< Weirdo >>>

The third time you met Yoongi's eyes—well, it's not really the third time. You had actually lost count on how many times your eyes locked with each other. Sometimes, it's a conscious act, but most of the time, it's not. You guys would just find yourselves staring into each other's eyes when you didn't know what lyrics to write next.

Producing a song was not as easy as what you thought it would be. It had been three weeks since the two of you started this project. Yoongi's room had been your workplace ever since. He had the equipment you needed plus it's easier to meet here since your dorm was just meters away from his house.

"My damn throat hurts like hell!" You groaned before collapsing on top of Yoongi's bed.

The past three weeks you spent with Yoongi made the two of you start a beautiful friendship. Admittedly, it's not really beautiful since most of the time; you're bickering at each other. You and Yoongi were so different from each other. He liked starting his work early because he wanted to finish it early. You, on the other hand, were his exact opposite. You're the play now, work later type of person and Yoongi hated it so much. While he practiced delayed gratification, you sat there and ruined everything.

You were always on his bed, cuddling his pet Holly. That's most likely the reason why it's only been two days since you two finished the song. It took almost three weeks because of your procrastinating ass, and now, you suffered. The two of you only had a week before you performed this in front of your class. Yoongi was pissed off at you for the reason that you still hadn't finished memorizing the lyrics and your voice was already strained.

“If I ever see you drinking cold water again, I will fucking drown your ass on that water as I behead you, and then I will freeze your head." Yoongi warned as he joined you in bed.

"Ohhh, morbid. I like that..." You shrugged your shoulders and then you buried your face on his chest—making him groan in irritation.

"You weirdo, get away from me!"

"No..." You laughed because Yoongi was the weird one here. He told you not to touch him or stay close to him, but at the same time, he's wrapping his arm on your waist.

You wondered if this was okay, it's just been three weeks since the two of you had been formally introduced, and yet, you found comfort here. On his bed. In his arms.

You smiled to yourself, yes, Yoongi was a weirdo, but so were you.

<<< Namjoon’s Party >>>>

What you considered as the fourth time you met Yoongi’s eyes was also the first time he called you by your given name.

“You feel so good…” He moaned your name on your neck, his hands were tightly wrapped around your waist—enjoying your body heat.

You suddenly thought if dragging Yoongi into this party was the best idea. Right now, you had no freaking clue how to act. You’re drunk, but not too drunk to not think about the consequences of this night. But damn, you’re just a human. A horny human! How could you possibly stop Yoongi when he’s using his soft lips to paint bruises on your neck!?

You could just push him away and you knew that, though you were also aware that your mind and heart wouldn’t want that, not when you liked what he’s doing to you.

“Namjoon’s party sucks.”

“Just not your crowd, weirdo...” You chuckled. Oh, thank heavens for Namjoon. He was one of your childhood friends and frankly, the song you and Yoongi produced wouldn’t be finished without the help of Namjoon. So when that friend of yours texted you to come to his birthday party, you immediately agreed. Fortunately, you didn’t have to force your one brain cell to wake up just so you could convince Yoongi to go with you.

This wasn’t what Yoongi likesd he hated parties because he didn’t want to talk to stupid people and drunken people were stupid people. Perhaps the only reason why Yoongi was here was because he couldn’t turn down Namjoon—not after all your friend’s genius advice.

“I hate this place.” Yoongi added, he’s now looking at you with sparks in his eyes—or maybe you’re just drunk. Too intoxicated to feel and see anything other than the fact that Yoongi’s already grinding at you.

You huffed; suddenly offended by the clothes you’re wearing. Were you supposed to wear this when all you wanted was to feel Yoongi’s touch on your bare skin?

“We’re here for Namjoon—”

“God, can’t you take the hint?” Yoongi cut you off by pouting.

You blinked. Did this weirdo just pout? And oh, his lips…his lips were hot….hot against your own mouth.

“Yoongi….” You breathed, your eyes were too hazy to see his gummy smile.

“Let’s get the hell out of this place…”

That night, you once again lost count as to how many times you met his eyes. You also figured out that his eyes looked best the most when he’s down on his knees, facing your hips.

<<< The Performance >>>

You were expecting to meet Yoongi’s eyes as soon as you opened your very own one; however panic and fear consumed your whole being that you immediately ran out of Yoongi’s room. You’re too frightened to let him see you that you hurriedly put your clothes on and left his house.

It’s not like it was going to change the fact that you slept with your classmate in Psychology, however, you were scared. Scared to see his eyes back to being dead when just last night, the moon and the stars were there, staring at you like you’re not just a dust in this universe, but the whole universe.

Besides, you had one logical reason: you needed to pick up your costume for your upcoming performance with Yoongi. Taehyung, your designer friend was only available till nine in the morning, so you literally had to run like a lunatic right after you woke up from your cozy sleep on Yoongi’s bed.

Your outfit was perfect. Damn, Taehyung really had a talent when it came to this. Your confidence level was boosted just by wearing the clothes your great friend designed. You thought you’re finally ready to perform the song you and Yoongi produced for one month.

You were so ready, but your heart was not…

Just…where the hell was Yoongi? It had been two days since you last saw him. You hadn’t heard any news from him since you left his apartment the day after Namjoon’s party. Was he mad at you for leaving? Or did he even care?

You had fifteen minutes left before Mr. Kim Seokjin, your psychology professor, marked your grades zero.

“Fucking Min Yoongi, where the hell are you?” You grimaced when your call was directed on his phone’s voicemail.

You had two options: fake death so you wouldn’t have to perform, or kill Mr. Kim Seokjin. (They wouldn’t probably notice if you stabbed your professor on his side since most of them were busy preparing for their own presentations.)

But just as you’re about to resort to your latter option, Yoongi’s familiar scent immediately attacked your nose. You looked back only for you to cancel killing Mr. Kim Seokjin and just choose your former option.

God, how could it be possible for you to still want to stay alive when Min Yoongi was killing you with his looks? Gone was his light blond hair, but you’re not complaining since his now black curly hair was much much better than the previous one.

“Sorry I’m late. Holly peed on the couch again…” His multiple earrings looked too damn good on him. You’re silly; you’re fucking silly because you worried for nothing. Yoongi was still Yoongi, and the sparks in his eyes were still visible.

“It’s okay, we still have time…” You smiled as if the thought of murdering your professor didn’t just cross your mind. Oh well, nothing else mattered when Yoongi was here, right?

Mr. Kim Seokjin said that you and Yoongi would be the last performers for this day, which meant you still had at least half an hour left to stare at Yoongi like a vampire wanting to drink blood. But time flies fast when you’re busy with something. Thirty minutes ago, you were just ogling at your partner, right now, you were in front of the class, spitting fire with your partner.

The first verse of your produced song was rapped by Yoongi. Scratch that, Agust D was in front of you and not Yoongi. Your partner told you that he preferred to be called Agust D whenever he was performing his rap song.

Robber! Robber!

Sorry bae

Killer! Killer!

Sorry bae

Addiction—diction--diction

Sorry bae

“Oh! The court’s case you got away?”

Your partner smirked before proceeding to the next verse. You, on the other hand, stood there to hype the crowd.

You always get away

I’m sorry bae

You smoke cocaine but get away

Justice won’t be served

I’m sorry bae

Everything, everything, everything

Unfair

You were nervous. The next verse was assigned to you. The plan was that you only had to sing the chorus part, though Yoongi had another idea. He wanted you to go out of your comfort zone and try something new. So here you were, rapping.

You commit the same sin

Sorry bae

Your silence they love it

Sorry bae

I see same pigs on the senate

Boring bae

Your vote they bought and they’re not

Sorry bae

Nothing’s new but rich people’s car are

Brand new

Sorry bae

You can’t be illiterate coz they take advantage

Before you know it, you’re one of the reasons

Why innocents are salvage

Politicians know your name

But after the election they act like they don’t know your name!

You and Yoongi both performed the chorus part. It looked like the crowd was enjoying your presentation because they also started shouting and hyping you up.

They love, they love, they love themselves

They know, they know your sufferings

But they don’t they don’t and will never care

Youth wake up, stand up, we should fight the state! Brr!

The following verse was rapped by Yoongi again. You took your time to feel yourself as you discreetly watched the reaction of the people in front of you. A whole month of stress and worry seemed to pay off. You even locked eyes with Park Jimin, one of your most-respected classmates; he cheered for you and that was enough for you to successfully perform the next verse.

I wanna get job (job, job, job)

But I can’t get on the spotlight

Yeah I wanna have a good life!

But my parent’s wings are cozy

I just wanna hide

It’s okay I have time

My trust fund won’t end

So I can still live

And breathe while I finish this game

Called being “dependent”

All night, all day

Don’t care, don’t care, don’t care!

The next verse was easy to execute since you and Yoongi both rapped it. You were facing each other and suddenly, you forgot that there were eyes watching you. Min Yoongi caressed your cheeks once. You smiled as you sensually rolled your body.

Who plays by the rule?

No one!

Who wants to grab a woman's hair?

Husband!

Yoongi slightly pulled your hair this time. You grimaced, but you still continued rapping.

He has mistress so the wife’s depressed

He forgot about their kids but that’s okay

She can cover up for him like how

She can cover her bruise and play cool

As she says “I love him, anyway.”

You moved away from your partner. Your mood instantly changed as you approached the next verse. This one’s challenging to write. Your heart was breaking as you sang.

The other woman on the street has been pulled

By the stranger claiming she’s wet like a pool

She should be thankful since this will feel like

a dream come true

Lick it lick it right, you can take it, right?

She cried and cried and cried, that should be a sign

But “High five!” he told the other man

As the woman cried, her voice is too loud

So they killed her that night.

You let out your frustration by growling and jumping. Min Yoongi was also lost in his own world as he rapped—raising his middle finger from time to time.

They love, they love, they love themselves

They know, they know your sufferings

But they don’t they don’t and will never care

You’re horny, you fucked up! Go on and hate yourself! Brr!

It’s Yoongi’s own verse again. His mood shifted too. If you weren’t part of this performance, you would probably just stare at him. Goddamn, Min Yoongi had his own way of expressing himself.

Back back to the killings!

Your guns check

Call me when you need a gunman I can kill

Even for a dollar

Hashtag no conscience

I don’t believe in God so hell sounds okay

I’ll be with my gang gang

So hell won’t be boring!

The demon you summon

so money won’t be your worry

Payday, paycheck so I can have that rolex

He pointed the rolex on his wrist. It’s not an authentic one, but that’s not the point. Clearly, he just wanted everyone to see that there were other ways to “look cool.” However, many people still chose to listen and be their own demons.

Click clack to the bang bang

Your time has run out.

Click clack here’s my gun

I’m so high on drugs

I see you as a rat

They can control me with money

So you take these four shots

Your life is like a fruit fly

“I can’t understand. Why is it so easy for them?” This was Min Yoongi’s question to you. He asked this while you two were writing the following verse. He hated a lot of things, though he could forgive and tolerate some of it easily. However, he clearly told you that he could never treat someone right if that person used violence.

Click clack to the bang, you and you

Wait your turn

Shit! You little boy

Come here look at the blood

How? You’re asking me?

I don’t know, you’re a man you should know how

He also told you how much he hated this unfair world. He respected women more than ever, but Yoongi was an advocate of both equality and equity. Why can’t boys cry? Are we robots? These were some of his questions too.

If this is the kind of world we live in

I don't wanna live at all

If I exist for your pleasure

then I refuse to accept this call

You joined Yoongi singing the last verse of the song.

They love, they love, they love themselves

They know, they know your sufferings

But they don’t they don’t and will never care

Yo’ human, are you human? If yes then help us save this place!

By the time you finish the song, everyone’s clapping their hands and cheering for you and your partner. You swore you even saw Mr. Kim Seokjin wrote “100” on your paper.

You smiled. The performance was over, contrarily, the attraction you felt for your partner was only starting.

<<< Kimchi and Other Sauces >>>>

The first time you met Yoongi’s pleading eyes was during dinner time. After your performance in Mr. Kim Seokjin’s class, your partner said that the two of you should celebrate this success. Of course you immediately agreed, but that did not mean you were willing to spend money.

“I swear to God, Yoongi…if you ever bring me to a fine-dining restaurant, I will fucking kill you.”

You were not joking. You had student loans to pay so you couldn’t afford to spend a hundred dollar for a fucking spaghetti and sparkling water.

“Chill, you weirdo. We can just—” He stopped mid-sentence because a brilliant idea just popped into his mind.

“What? You’re not planning a yacht dinner date, are you!?” You started freaking out and the uneasiness you felt only intensified when Yoongi smirked.

“Actually, I was planning to…you know…maybe…make you eat my cum.” He simply shrugged his shoulders.

He said it so casually that you just stared at him. Was he serious or were you supposed to be laughing now? You could feel your blood rushing. You were so confused. Excited. Worried.

After what it felt like forever, the staring contest with Yoongi finally ended. He offered his hands and of course, you immediately took it. The both of you rushed toward his big, black motorbike. Yoongi only brought one helmet so he told you to just wear it. The ride to his house wasn’t that far, anyway.

The both of you were in a hurry. Countless profanities were thrown at him for driving hastily; Yoongi even parked his motorbike in a reckless way. Still, you two couldn’t care less, especially Yoongi. How could he? Huh, definitely not after you stroked his cock while driving. That’s really not a smart move, at least not when Yoongi’s mother welcomed the both of you just as Yoongi opened his apartment’s door.

“Eomma! What are you doing here?!” Clearly, your partner wasn’t expecting to see his own mother. It’s pretty obvious since Yoongi’s jaw dropped and his neck was slowly turning red.

“You brat! Why wouldn’t I be here? This is my house!” You knew you weren’t supposed to laugh, however it’s hard to control yourself when Yoongi’s being hit by his own mother while he was trying to cover the bulge on his pants.

“Eommoni! Please! I have a guest!” Yoongi got away from his own mother by hiding himself behind your small frame.

“What—oh!” His mother’s eyes widened when she saw you. She seemed surprised to see Yoongi bring someone. Of course, Yoongi had never brought his friends home. Not even once. At this point, his mother was actually convinced that her son was allergic to human beings.

“I didn’t know that Yoongi is friends with someone as charming as you…” The frightening aura of his mother was completely gone. The older woman engulfed you into a tight, warm hug as she asked your name. You answered her with a smile on your lips.

Yoongi’s mom led you in the kitchen. Actually, you tagged along with her. She wanted to prepare a meal for you and her son, but of course, you couldn’t just sit still and look pretty. As a sign of respect, you needed to help her. Besides, you loved kitchen works, though you’re pretty sure cooking hated every fiber of your being.

The older woman just asked you to set up the table because according to her, she was always in charge of cooking. She also told you to be prepared because you’d surely forget your name once you tasted her award-winning Sam Gae Tang or that chicken soup with ginseng. Hoseok, one of your best friends, made the best chicken soup so your standard was kind of high. For you, nothing could beat Hoseok, but we’ll just have to see.

“Please be kind to my mother…”

Yoongi’s voice and eyes were pleading as he sat beside you. The food was already prepared and the two of you were ready to eat. You were just waiting for Yoongi’s mom to finish washing her hands.

You just raised your brows at the man beside you, clearly not understanding why he’s pleading because really, you knew how to respect elders.

Yoongi sighed.

“My mom is a terrible cook. Her soup tastes like shit, man…” Yoongi shook his head like a traumatized kid. He even bit his lower lip.

You’re about to say something, but you heard his mother’s footsteps, meaning, if you spoke, she might hear you, and so you just kept your mouth shut. You’re expecting Yoongi to do the same, though he just leaned on your shoulders—his eyes were still begging.

“Please, baby? Just put a lot of kimchi and other sauces on your soup to get rid of the awful taste. Can you do that for me?”

You simply nodded. That night, you realized that Yoongi was willing to do everything just to make someone he loved happy. Days, weeks, months, and years passed and you still admired how every time you had dinner with him and his mother, Yoongi would urge you to put kimchi and other sauces on your chicken soup.

At this point, you were convinced you loved Min Yoongi. You had always loved cooking, hell, you were willing to lose your bachelor’s degree if that meant you would be good at cooking, because…

You, just like Yoongi’s mom, were a terrible cook. But Yoongi never complained nor did he ever put kimchi and other sauces on the food you cooked just for him.

<<< Silver Dust>>>>

The first time you asked Yoongi why he liked looking into your eyes was when the both of you were having a staring contest.

The wind was unbelievably cold tonight, clearly, you weren’t expecting to freeze in the middle of a summer night. The annoying weather led you into thinking if climbing on top of your boyfriend’s house’s roof was a good idea. Sure the stars were pretty, but you felt cold. Too cold.

“Do you know the story about the Window and the Mirror?” Yoongi asked out of the blue. He also pulled your body closer to him—making you grimace. The texture of the roof was hard on your back. You shook your head, why did you choose to lay on the roof without any blanket again? Sometimes, your choices in life were really questionable.

“Nah, what happened?” You’re never a fan of stories.

Yoongi sighed. He pulled you closer to him until your face was buried on his neck. Damn. He smelled like smoke and sex.

“Well, for starters, my father left us…”

Yoongi’s words monetarily made you stop breathing. You had known him for years now, but not once did you ever talk about his father. You were aware that his father left him and his mom, though you didn’t know the story behind it.

“My father was a good man and he always tells me he loves my mother more than ever. For the longest time of my life, I believed him. He never looked into anyone’s wife. He never had a mistress, but my father is selfish.”

You just hummed to let him know that you were listening.

He cleared his throat.

“Mom just wants a simple life and that’s why we never left Daegu. This is my home. Our home.” Yoongi’s grip on your shoulder tightened, he looked up in the sky—the stars were prettier when you were in Daegu.

“My father doesn’t like to be here, though. He loves the city. He craves city life. Ever since I was young, he kept telling my mom that they should move to Seoul. Abeonim hates farming. He calls our strawberry farm disgusting. Said he should become a CEO and not a stupid farmer.” Yoongi laughed bitterly. He could still remember the way his father said those words.

“And guess what? He fucking did. Min Hyun Sik, chief executive officer of Bighit Company…” Yoongi cackled and you gasped.

Min Hyun Sik was his father? That guy was like the richest man in South Korea! You wanted to confirm this news that he just dropped, however, you couldn’t move because Yoongi’s grip on your shoulders was so tight.

“He became someone with power by leaving my mother and I.” Yoongi repeated as his eyes darkened. He no longer found the stars pretty. For him they were just lights—shining to hurt his eyes.

“He just left a note like that was going to be enough. He didn’t even say sorry. The only words written on those notes are him telling me to go to University using the money he left.”

You bit your lower lip. His grip was really, really tight…

“He wants me to go to college so I can follow him in the city, and so I went to college. But it’s not because I want to follow him. I enrolled just so I can fucking drop out during my last year.”

You furrowed your brow. If that was Yoongi’s original plan, then how…how come he’s a college graduate now?

“That was the plan before I met you…” Yoongi’s grip on your shoulder loosens, giving you the opportunity to look into his eyes.

He smiled at you.

“So, the story of the Window and the Mirror?” He offered and you just nodded.

“There’s this rich man—”

“Richer than your dad?” You asked. He laughed.

“Fucking richer than my dad…” He left a chaste kiss on your mouth. You giggled. “Anyway, the man went to see a rabbi, some sort of Jewish teacher. Of course the rabbi asked him what he wanted and the rich man said he doesn’t know what to do with his life anymore.”

“Uh, duh? He should give us money!” You butted in again. Yoongi kissed you once more just to make you shut up.

“Unfortunately, the teacher didn’t tell the rich man to give you money, weirdo. The Rabbi just led him over to the window and asked him this.” Yoongi cleared his throat. “What can you see through the glass?”

“And what’s the response of the rich man, Mr. Min?”

“I can see men coming and going and a blind man begging for alms in the street.” Yoongi answered you. “The rabbi seemed content with his answers, so this time, the teacher led him into a large mirror to ask him another question...”

“What is the other question?” You pressed.

“The rabbi asked him this, baby…” Yoongi pressed his lips on your mouth before proceeding to the story. “When you look in this mirror, can you tell me what you see?”

“And?!” You pressed again.

“I can see myself…”

“Obviously.” You rolled your eyes. You just wanted to know the sense of this story.

“And you can’t see the others. Notice that the window and the mirror are both made of the same basic material, glass. You should compare yourself to these two kinds of glass. Poor, you saw other people and felt compassion for them. Rich — covered in silver — you see yourself.”

“Oh,” was all you could say.

Your boyfriend smiled at you.

“My father chose to look in the mirror and I almost did the same. I almost dropped out of college just because I want my father to see that having a degree is useless. But, baby, if I actually chose to drop out, I wouldn’t have met you. I wouldn’t be able to give my mother a better life. I wouldn’t be able to afford to hire a cook and who knows? If I drop out of college, I would probably still be eating my mom’s shitty chicken soup.” You laughed at that.

“I am just saying, I like to look into your eyes because it reminds me of a window. It made me see a lot of things—new opportunities. Because of you, I stopped being selfish. You removed the silver in the mirror; you turned the silver into dust.”

“I fucking love you!” This time, you initiated the kiss.

You kissed Min Yoongi so hard that when you pulled away, he’s desperately gasping for air.

“I fucking love you too.”

<<< The Proposal >>>>

After reminiscing some of your unforgettable moments with Min Yoongi, you finally looked into his eyes.

Yoongi proposed to you and you’re contemplating whether to say yes or no. Your boyfriend despised the crowd, but here he was, down on his knees—shakily holding a ring on his hand.

You examined his face. His lips were quivering, for the first time; you saw how vulnerable he looked. It’s as if his whole life depended on this, and to be honest, it did. Yoongi couldn’t imagine life without you.

“Baby, are you gonna say yes or no?” Yoongi knitted his brows together.

You chuckled. Typical, Yoongi.

“Please stand up…”

Your boyfriend looked at you with confused eyes. His heart started beating so fast he’s very sure it would explode.

“B-But why? Don’t you want to—“ He stammered.

“Just stand up, Yoongi.”

With a heavy heart, Yoongi followed what you wanted. Deep inside, Yoongi was already murdering his friend, Jeon Jeongguk. He just told Yoongi that proposing in a strange, busy city would win your heart.

You two were currently in New York, New York. Strangers were watching you, and Brooklyn Bridge served as your backdrop. Jeongguk said that if Yoongi proposed in a place where no one knew you, then it was a sure win because your mother wouldn’t be able to stop Yoongi. Your childhood crush or ex wouldn't be in the picture too so it was another win for Yoongi. But your boyfriend was starting to regret his decision. He shouldn’t have listened to Jeongguk. What did that dipshit even know about love?

“Yoongi, are you listening?”

“Huh?” Your boyfriend’s train of thoughts were suddenly halted when you spoke.

“I can’t believe you. I just said yes!” You shake Yoongi’s shoulder. It looked like he was still out of his mind and that made you anxious. What if…what if he decided you’re not worth it anymore? What if he didn’t want to marry you anymore?

“Baby, I can’t believe you too. Please give me your hands!” Yoongi exclaimed.

“Oh!” You exclaimed as well. What the hell! You were so apprehensive that you zoned out too!

“We’re both weirdos, do you know that?” Yoongi shook his head after putting the sparkling ring on your finger.

You laughed.

“Oh, just shut up and kiss me.”

“Gladly.”

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