#no script can actually contain the words in this guy's eyes

[yeonbam]

eating glass expeditiously because WARS MICRO-EXPRESSIONS ARE MICRO-EXPRESSIONING AGAIN. I wish I could make gifs but what I can do is look at this clip one billion times until it's a gif in my brain the way god intended....

LIKE... the disbelief and the desire, intertwined with the absolute YEARNING in Joke's eyes. Perhaps he too realises at this moment how much he wants to hear these words— "I like you" from Jack— after spending the longest time believing he would never be liked by Jack unless he fixes things... which he fails at drastically. so, at the same time, he doesn't dare, he doesn't dare a thousand times because Jake is so good, so infinitely better than him, that he could change his whole life in their brief meeting;

but he also wants so earnestly.

Also the SPEECHLESSNESS— all he can do is "huh?" in disbelief.

also look at when his little smile drops because it wasn't a confession, of course it wasn't (it was but you're both too dumb to realise because what was that forehead kiss and "promise" stuff right after 🤨)

I'm so ill.

[tatumrileyslover]

Beneath Still Waters

A Stain On Summer [1]

Summer at Mason's Creek Summer Camp: where ghost stories come to life and campers vanish without a trace. As bloody clues surface and dark secrets emerge, a counselor finds herself at the center of a terrifying mystery. In these woods, trust is a luxury she can't afford - because the next victim could be her.

🏕 jungkook x reader x jimin

🏕 word count: 6.0k

🏕 warnings: not a lot of major warning for these first few chapters. Some blood mentioned. A little bit of jealousy. the horror element aren’t present in these first few chapters but be aware if it’s not a genre you like reading that the story contains murder and gore in later chapters <3

🏕 notes: I came up with this idea while replaying the quarry, which really inspired me to write this because I don’t think I’ve seen anyone write anything like this yet so please enjoy <3 also please comment to lmk if you guys actually liked this or not :P

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The bright rays of sunlight filtered through the dense canopy of pine trees, casting long shadows across the well-worn path to the amphitheater. (Y/n) who struggled to wrangle a stray group children, her arms full of scripts and prop lists, paused for a moment to breathe in the crisp morning air. Four weeks into her stint as a counselor at Mason's Creek Summer Camp, and she still found herself in awe of the natural beauty surrounding her. Sure, it was still almost impossible to hear the birds chirping over the constant chattering of the children, but being out in nature had a calming effect like no other.

The amphitheater, a rustic wooden structure nestled in a small clearing, not too far from the camp itself, came into view as (Y/n) rounded the final bend. Weather-beaten benches arranged in a semicircle faced a makeshift stage, where a group of eager campers were already gathering. Their excited chatter filled the air, a stark contrast to the serene forest backdrop.

(Y/n) smiled, adjusting her load as she approached. "Alright, thespians," she called out, her voice carrying across the clearing. "Who's ready to bring some Shakespeare to life?"

A chorus of enthusiastic responses greeted her, and (Y/n) felt a familiar thrill of excitement. This was why she loved being the Arts and Performance counselor. The energy, the creativity, the sheer joy of watching these kids discover their talents �� it never got old.

Some of the bright faces talked happily among themselves, prepping for the morning activities, while others scoffed down the remaining remnants of breakfast - which (Y/n) had missed out on. She had been holed up in the Camp Director's Office since the sun began to rise, stuck to the ancient printer that wheezed and groaned with each page it reluctantly produced. Getting all the scripts in order had taken longer than she'd anticipated, but she was determined to have everything ready for the day's drama workshop.

As she began distributing scripts, her eyes scanning the excited faces of her campers, (Y/n) caught sight of a familiar figure jogging towards them. Jimin, his silver hair catching the morning light, waved as he approached. A small group of young girls near the edge of the group erupted into giggles, nudging each other and stealing glances at him.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, slightly out of breath. "Hoseok needed help with a last-minute change to the afternoon activities."

(Y/n) felt a wave of relief wash over her. "Jimin, I almost thought you weren't going to come. I was starting to think I'd have to manage this bunch alone."

He grinned, slapping her shoulder playfully. "And leave you to fend for yourself? Not a chance. Is that what you think of me?"

"Can you help some of those girls with their lines? They're still struggling with Act Two." She slapped a script to his chest with a smile.

As Jimin moved to assist a group of eager campers, who giggled as he approached, (Y/n) couldn't help but smile. There was an ease to their partnership, a natural rhythm they'd fallen into over the weeks. She couldn't have been more relieved that they had promised to help each other out before camp had started, not wanting to think of how she would deal with the hyperactive children by herself. She watched as he patiently guided the kids through their lines, his enthusiasm infectious.

After setting the older campers to work on their scenes, (Y/n) made her way back to where Jimin was sitting. She plopped down next to him, their shoulders brushing.

"How's it going over here?" she asked, nodding towards the group of kids now animatedly acting out their parts.

Jimin chuckled. "I think we might have a few future Broadway stars on our hands. Did you see the dramatics earlier?"

(Y/n) laughed, the tension from her hectic morning melting away. "Oh, it was Oscar-worthy for sure."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, watching the campers' enthusiastic, if slightly chaotic, performances. Without thinking, (Y/n) leaned her head on Jimin's shoulder, a gesture born from years of familiarity.

"Thanks again for coming to help," she said softly. "I don't know what I'd do without you here."

Jimin's reply was warm. "Always, (Y/n)."

As they watched the impromptu performances unfold, trading quiet jokes and observations, (Y/n) felt grateful for this moment of peace amidst the usual camp chaos. She caught sight of Jimin's little fan club stealing glances their way and suppressed a smirk. However, their quiet companionship was soon interrupted as one of the younger campers approached, tugging on (Y/n)'s sleeve needing assistance with some props. 

The sound of laughter drew (Y/n)'s attention back to the stage, where two campers were attempting an overly dramatic interpretation of a scene from "Romeo and Juliet." She stifled a chuckle, moving closer to offer guidance.

As the rehearsal progressed, the forest around them grew darker, the shadows deepening between the trees. (Y/n) found herself glancing at the tree line more frequently, an uneasy feeling settling in her stomach. Maybe it was the ghost stories Taehyung had been telling at the campfire the night before, or maybe it was something else entirely, but she couldn't shake the sensation of being watched.

The forest seemed to press in closer, the spaces between the trees now pitch black. She shook her head, trying to dispel the creeping sense of unease. It was just her imagination, she told herself. Just the power of suggestion after too many campfire tales.

But as the rehearsal continued, (Y/n) couldn't quite convince herself that everything was as it should be. Something had changed at Camp Mason's Creek, a subtle shift in the atmosphere that she couldn't quite put her finger on. 

The Arts and Crafts cabin stood as a haven of creativity amidst the bustling camp grounds. As (Y/n) pushed open the heavy wooden door, she was greeted by the familiar earthy scent of wet clay that permeated the air. The midday sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the front of the room, casting long shadows across the worn wooden floorboards and illuminating specks of dust dancing in the air.

(Y/n) paused for a moment, taking in the scene before her. The large, open space was filled with tables of various sizes, each covered with plastic sheets to protect them from the inevitable mess. Shelves lined the walls, laden with an assortment of finished and half-finished projects – a testament to the campers' creativity over the weeks.

"Alright, everyone," (Y/n) called out, clapping her hands to get the attention of the excited campers filing in behind her. "Find a spot and we'll get started on our pottery project."

The room quickly filled with the sound of chatter and scraping chairs as the children settled into their places. (Y/n) moved between the tables, distributing lumps of clay and making sure everyone had the tools they needed.

"Remember," she said, raising her voice to be heard over the excited murmurs, "we're focusing on hand-building today. For those of you who want to try the wheel, we'll have time for that later in the week."

As the campers began to work, (Y/n) circulated the room, offering guidance and encouragement. She paused at one table where a young girl named Mia was frowning at her lump of clay.

"Everything okay, Mia?" (Y/n) asked, crouching down beside her.

Mia looked up, her brow furrowed in concentration. "I can't get it to look right," she said, gesturing at her misshapen attempt at a bowl.

(Y/n) smiled reassuringly. "That's okay. Remember, pottery isn't about perfection. It's about expressing yourself." She reached over, gently guiding Mia's hands. "Try pressing here, and smoothing it out like this."

As Mia's face lit up with renewed determination, (Y/n) felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to find Max, one of the older campers, holding up a blob of clay that vaguely resembled a face.

"Miss (Y/n), is this good enough for a self-portrait?" he asked, a mischievous glint in his eye.

(Y/n) bit back a laugh. "Well, Max, I think you've captured your essence perfectly. Maybe try adding some more hair, it looks like you're balding."

The room was soon filled with the sounds of laughter, concentration, and the occasional frustrated sigh. The whir of some of the pottery wheels added a rhythmic backdrop to the creative chaos. (Y/n) found herself lost in the joy of it all, moving from table to table, offering a word of advice here, a helping hand there.

She was in the middle of demonstrating how to attach a handle to a mug when a knock at the door caught her attention. Looking up, she saw Jungkook leaning against the doorframe, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Archery finished early," he said, stepping into the room. "Thought I'd come see if you needed any help."

(Y/n) raised an eyebrow, fighting back a smile. "Help, or make a mess?"

Jungkook clutched his chest in mock offense. "I'll have you know I'm an excellent potter. A modern day Michelangelo with clay."

The younger campers perked up at his arrival, excited whispers rippling through the room. (Y/n) couldn't help but notice the way some of the older girls suddenly became very interested in their work, stealing glances at Jungkook when they thought no one was looking.

"Alright, Michelangelo," (Y/n) challenged, gesturing to an empty wheel. "Show us what you've got."

Jungkook rolled up his sleeves, confidence radiating from every pore as he sat down at the wheel. "Watch and learn, kids. This is how you make a vase."

What followed was possibly the most disastrous attempt at pottery (Y/n) had ever witnessed. Clay flew in all directions as Jungkook struggled to control the wheel, his "vase" looking more like a formless lump with each passing second.

"Oops," he said, grinning sheepishly as a glob of clay landed on his cheek. "I meant to do that. It's abstract art."

The campers giggled, thoroughly entertained by the spectacle. (Y/n) shook her head, unable to keep the amusement off her face as she moved behind him.

"Here, let me help," she said, reaching around to guide his hands. "You need to center the clay first."

The moment her hands touched his, (Y/n) felt a jolt of electricity run through her. She was suddenly very aware of how close they were, of the warmth of his back against her chest. Jungkook turned his head slightly, their faces inches apart, and for a moment, the rest of the room seemed to fade away.

"Like this?" he asked softly, his voice sending a shiver down her spine.

(Y/n) swallowed hard, forcing herself to focus on the clay. "Y-yeah, just... gentle pressure. Let the clay guide your hands."

As they worked together, (Y/n) became aware of the hushed whispers and giggles from the campers around them. She caught snippets of their conversations - "They're so cute!" "Do you think they like each other?" - but she was too distracted by Jungkook's presence to pay much attention.

Finally, they managed to shape something vaguely resembling a vase. (Y/n) stepped back, her cheeks flushed. "See? Not so hard."

Jungkook grinned up at her. "I had a great teacher. Maybe next time you can show me how to make a bowl?"

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, but couldn't hide her smile. "Maybe next time you should stick to archery."

As Jungkook stood up from the pottery wheel, (Y/n) noticed the smear of clay still on his cheek. Without thinking, she reached out, her hand cupping his face gently.

"Hold still," she said softly, using her thumb to wipe away the clay. "You've got a little..."

Their eyes met, and (Y/n) suddenly realized how intimate the gesture was. Jungkook's skin was warm under her touch, his gaze intense. For a moment, they both seemed to forget where they were.

"There," (Y/n) said, her voice barely above a whisper as she lowered her hand. "All clean."

Jungkook's lips curved into a slow smile. "Thanks," he murmured, his eyes never leaving hers.

The spell was broken by a giggle from nearby, reminding them both that they were surrounded by campers. (Y/n) stepped back, her cheeks flushing as she turned to address the class, acutely aware of Jungkook's gaze still on her.

The rest of the session passed in a blur, with Jungkook moving around the room, charming the campers and occasionally catching (Y/n)'s eye with a wink or a smile that made her heart skip a beat. He proved to be surprisingly good at helping the younger kids, patiently guiding their small hands and offering enthusiastic praise for even the most misshapen creations.

As the session wound down and the campers began cleaning up, (Y/n) found herself both relieved and disappointed that it was over. She watched as Jungkook helped some of the younger kids wash their hands, marveling at how good he was with them.

"Thanks for your help," she said as he approached her, wiping his hands on a towel. "Even if you did turn the place into a war zone."

Jungkook laughed, running a hand through his hair and leaving a streak of clay behind. "What can I say? I'm a man of many talents. Some of them are even useful."

Before (Y/n) could respond, they were interrupted by the sound of shouting outside. Looking out the window, they saw a group of campers arguing over a football.

Jungkook sighed. "Duty calls. Can't let them have all the fun without me. See you at dinner?"

(Y/n) nodded, watching as he jogged out to break up the fight. As she turned back to oversee the final cleanup, she couldn't shake the lingering warmth of his touch, or the way her heart raced when he smiled at her.

As the last of the campers filed out, clay-covered masterpieces being shoved in a windowsill to let dry out. (Y/n) began the task of cleaning up. She moved around the room, wiping down tables and organizing supplies, her mind replaying the afternoon's events. She thought about the way Jungkook's eyes had crinkled when he laughed, the gentle pressure of his hands under hers as she guided him on the wheel.

(Y/n) sighed, tossing a clay-covered rag into the sink. It was just a harmless flirtation, she told herself. Nothing more. But as she locked up the craft cabin and headed towards the dining hall, she couldn't quite convince herself that was true.

The smell of dinner wafted across the camp, mingling with the earthy scent of the forest and the lingering aroma of clay on her clothes. Eden took a deep breath, pushing thoughts of Jungkook to the back of her mind. There were still hours left in the day, more activities to oversee, more campers to look after.

But as she walked, she couldn't help but look forward to dinner, the smell of food made her stomach rumble as she realised she hadn't eaten anything since last night's dinner. Quickly, she locked up the cabin and made her way to the mess hall that ushered in hoard of ravenous children.

The mess hall buzzed with excitement, a cacophony of laughter, clattering utensils, and animated chatter filling the air. Long wooden tables stretched from end to end, their surfaces scarred with years of summer memories carved by eager campers. Overhead, strings of fairy lights twinkled softly, complementing the warm glow of the setting sun that streamed through the large windows.

The aroma of tonight's special dinner - barbecue ribs, corn on the cob, and s'more brownies for dessert - wafted from the kitchen, eliciting eager anticipation from campers and counselors alike. It was a feast to mark the halfway point of the summer, and the excitement was palpable.

(Y/n) sat at the counselors' table, Jimin on one side and an empty seat on the other. She couldn't help but notice Jungkook's absence, probably still being held up by the children fighting over the football. Her gaze drifted across the room, taking in the scene.

At the far end of the table, Yoongi sat slightly apart, picking at his food and occasionally glancing up at the chaos around him with a mix of amusement and mild exasperation. Jin and Namjoon had their heads together at a small table near the kitchen, deep in discussion about what (Y/n) assumed were camp logistics.

"So," Jimin said, his voice snapping her out of her trance, a hint of something in his voice, "I heard Jungkook paid you a visit during arts and crafts."

(Y/n) felt heat rise to her cheeks. "News travels fast around here, doesn't it?"

Taehyung leaned in, eyes sparkling with interest. "Oh? Do tell!"

"There's nothing to tell," (Y/n) insisted, perhaps a bit too quickly. "He just stopped by and made a mess with the pottery wheel."

"Uh-huh," Jimin said, his tone teasing but with an undercurrent (Y/n) couldn't quite place. 

"So," Taehyung cut in, leaning across the table with a mischievous glint in his eye, "who's ready for some ghost stories tonight?"

Hoseok groaned dramatically, dropping his fork. "Come on, Tae. You know those stories give me nightmares."

"Aww, is our Hobi scared of the big bad ghosts?" Taehyung teased, reaching over to pinch Hoseok's cheek.

Hoseok swatted his hand away, pouting. "I'm not scared! I just... appreciate a good night's sleep, that's all."

Jimin chuckled, nudging (Y/n). "Maybe we should pair Hoseok with some of the older kids tonight, yeah? For protection."

(Y/n) smiled, about to respond when Jungkook finally arrived, sliding into the empty seat beside her. His hair was slightly damp, and he smelled faintly of grass and sweat.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, flashing a grin that made (Y/n)'s heart skip a beat. "Had to settle a dispute over the last soccer ball. Looks like I missed the ribs, though." He eyed (Y/n)'s plate hopefully.

"Don't even think about it, Jeon," (Y/n) warned, but she was already pushing her plate towards him.

As Jungkook settled in, his arm brushing against (Y/n)'s, she noticed Jimin tense beside her. The silver-haired counselor's knuckles whitened around his fork.

"Well," Jimin said, standing abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. "I should go clean up some of the swimming equipment. Make sure they're all ready for tomorrow."

(Y/n) frowned, watching him leave. "Is everything okay with Jimin?" she asked, turning to the others.

Taehyung waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Oh, I think our Jiminie is just feeling a little... left out." He called after Jimin's retreating form, "Don't forget to bring your teddy bear to the campfire, Jimin-ah!"

Jimin's only response was a half-hearted wave without turning back.

As the meal progressed, the excitement among the campers grew. Younger kids bounced in their seats, their voices rising in pitch and volume. The older campers gave an air of cool nonchalance, but (Y/n) could see the anticipation in their eyes for the afternoon's festivities.

(Y/n)'s gaze drifted across the mess hall, taking in the scenes of summer joy. But in a far corner, she noticed two older campers with their heads close together, whispering intently. The girl – Rose, one of (Y/n)'s drama students – glanced furtively around before leaning in even closer to the boy, Jason.

Frowning slightly, (Y/n) stood up, intending to check on them. But before she could take a step, Jin's voice cut through the chatter.

"Attention, everyone!" he called out, standing at the front of the hall. The room gradually quieted, all eyes turning to the camp director. "As you all know, tonight marks the halfway point of our summer together at Mason's Creek Summer Camp."

A cheer went up from the campers, and Jin smiled, waiting for quiet to return. "Tonight's campfire is special. For the first time this summer, all of our campers, from the youngest to the oldest, will gather together around the fire. It's a chance for us to come together as one camp family, to share stories, songs, and maybe," he glanced at Taehyung with a wry smile, "a scare or two."

More cheers and a few nervous giggles rippled through the crowd.

"So," Jin continued, "in fifteen minutes, we'll all meet at the big fire pit. Counselors, make sure your groups are accounted for and bring extra blankets. It's going to be a chilly night!"

As Jin finished speaking, a flurry of activity erupted in the mess hall. Campers began clearing their plates, chattering excitedly about the night ahead. Counselors moved between tables, organizing their groups and answering a barrage of questions.

(Y/n) felt a hand on her arm and turned to find Jungkook looking at her, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Ready for all these scary stories?" he asked, his voice low and playful.

She felt a flutter in her stomach but managed to roll her eyes, as she pushed her finger against his chest. "Just try not to scream too loud when Taehyung starts his ghost stories, okay?"

Jungkook clutched his chest in mock offense. "Me? Scream? Never! I'll have you know I'm very brave."

"Uh-huh," (Y/n) teased, "Is that why you slept with your flashlight on after last week's zombie story?"

Their laughter mingled with the excited voices around them as they began to herd their group towards the door. As they left the warmth of the mess hall, the cool evening air nipped at their skin, carrying with it the promise of a night filled with mystery.

As the campers began to file out, (Y/n) noticed Rose and Jason lingering behind, still deep in conversation. She made a mental note to keep an eye on them during the campfire.

The path to the fire pit was alive with excitement. Younger campers skipped ahead, their voices carrying through the darkening woods, while the older ones walked with an air of cool nonchalance that didn't quite hide their anticipation.

The sun had begun its descent, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink as (Y/n) and Jungkook led their group of campers down the winding path to the campfire. The excited chatter of the kids filled the air, punctuated by the occasional hoot of an owl or rustle in the underbrush.

As they approached the clearing, the smell of woodsmoke mingled with the earthy scent of the forest. The campfire came into view, a beacon of warmth and light in the gathering dusk. Campers were already spreading blankets on the ground and arranging themselves in a wide circle around the flames.

(Y/n) did a quick headcount of her group, frowning slightly when she realized Rose and Jason were missing. She was about to mention it to Jungkook when Taehyung's group burst into the clearing, their counselor wearing an elaborate headdress made of leaves and twigs.

"Make way for the forest spirits!" Taehyung announced dramatically, earning giggles from the younger campers and eye-rolls from the older ones.

"Tae, you look ridiculous," (Y/n) laughed, momentarily distracted from her concerns.

Taehyung struck a pose. "Ridiculous? I'll have you know this is the height of woodland fashion."

As they helped their campers settle, spreading blankets and passing out s'mores supplies, (Y/n) found herself swept up in the excitement. The sun sank lower, the sky deepening to a rich purple. Soon, the only light came from the roaring campfire, casting flickering shadows that danced at the edge of the woods.

(Y/n) couldn't shake a feeling of unease as she glanced at the dark line of trees surrounding them. In the daylight, the forest was a place of adventure and discovery. But now, with the flames throwing strange shadows and the darkness pressing in, it felt almost menacing. She shivered, pulling her jacket closer.

"Cold?" Jungkook's voice came from beside her, startling her out of her thoughts.

"No, just... the woods seem different at night, don't they?"

Jungkook nodded, his eyes scanning the treeline. "Yeah, it's like they're hiding secrets."

Before (Y/n) could respond, Taehyung cleared his throat loudly. "Gather 'round, campers and counselors alike! It's time for a tale of terror!"

The campers hushed, leaning in eagerly as Taehyung began his story. His voice dropped to a dramatic whisper as he spun a tale of a killer who stalked the woods, preying on unsuspecting campers.

As the story progressed, (Y/n) found her attention wandering. Her eyes drifted over the circle, taking in the reactions of the other counselors. Hoseok was visibly uncomfortable, jumping at every dramatic pause. Yoongi seemed unimpressed, occasionally rolling his eyes at the more outlandish parts of the tale.

Her gaze settled on Jungkook, and she found herself admiring the way the firelight played across his features, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw and the intensity in his eyes as he listened to the story. She quickly looked away when he glanced in her direction, feeling a warmth in her cheeks that had nothing to do with the fire.

It was then that (Y/n) noticed Jimin's absence. She frowned, wondering if he was still upset from dinner. Knowing Jimin, he had probably thrown himself into work, losing track of time. She made a mental note to check on him after the campfire.

As her eyes scanned the group again, she realized Jin was missing too. It seemed odd that the camp director would leave without saying anything, but she reasoned he might have quietly informed Namjoon and slipped away to avoid disrupting the story.

(Y/n)'s gaze drifted back to the woods, the vastness of the darkness beyond the fire's glow drawing her in. As she stared into the gloom, a movement caught her eye. For a moment, she thought she saw a figure among the trees.

Suddenly, Taehyung's voice rose to a shout as he reached the climax of his story. He threw something into the fire, causing it to roar up with a burst of sparks. (Y/n) jumped to her feet, her heart pounding.

Jungkook looked up at her, startled. "Whoa, (Y/n)! Don't tell me Tae's story actually scared you," he teased, but there was a note of concern in his voice.

(Y/n) barely heard him. Her eyes were fixed on the edge of the clearing where a figure had emerged from the woods. "Rose," she whispered, before breaking into a run.

Rose stumbled into the firelight, soaking wet and shivering. (Y/n) reached her just as the girl's legs seemed to give out, catching her and wrapping her in the blanket she'd grabbed from the ground.

"Rose! What happened? Where's Jason?" (Y/n) asked, her voice tight with worry.

Through chattering teeth, Rose explained how Jason had pushed her into the lake as a prank. She'd gotten lost trying to find her way back, wandering the trails in the dark. "J-Jason's still down there," she said, a mix of anger and worry in her voice. "I didn't want to see him after what he did, but... what if something happened to him?"

As (Y/n) comforted Rose, she overheard Namjoon instructing Taehyung and Yoongi to do a quick sweep around the lake. The other counselors began ushering the confused and worried campers back to their cabins.

In the midst of the chaos, Jimin appeared, looking slightly disheveled and... wet? Eden noticed but couldn't dwell on it, focused on getting Rose warm and dry.

"Come on," she said to Rose, guiding her towards the cabins. "Let's get you into some dry clothes."

In (Y/n)'s cabin, she turned up the small heater and helped Rose change into warm, dry clothes. As she helped the girl towel dry her hair, Rose spoke softly.

"I really liked him, you know? Jason. I thought... I thought maybe he liked me too. But then he just pushed me in and laughed." She looked up at (Y/n), her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Is that what love is supposed to be like?"

(Y/n)'s heart ached for the girl. "No, sweetie. That's not love. Someone who cares about you would never purposely put you in danger or make you feel bad."

After making sure Rose was okay, (Y/n) walked her back to her own cabin, her mind whirling with worry about Jason and confusion over the events of the night.

(Y/n)'s mind was still reeling from the events of the night as she made her way back to her cabin. The path, usually so familiar, felt alien in the darkness, every shadow seeming to hide potential dangers. As she approached, she saw a figure sitting on the porch steps, hunched over with elbows resting on knees. Her heart skipped a beat before she recognized Jungkook's silhouette.

"Jungkook?" she called softly, quickening her pace.

He looked up, relief washing over his features as he stood. "(Y/n), thank god. I was getting worried."

As she climbed the steps, (Y/n) could see the tension in his jaw, the worry etched in the lines of his face. "Any news?" she asked, though she could already guess the answer from his expression.

Jungkook shook his head, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Nothing. We can't find Jason anywhere. We've done a preliminary search of the lake shore and the nearby trails, but there's no sign of him."

(Y/n) felt her stomach drop. "What about the other counselors? Jin?"

"Jin's still missing too. Namjoon's trying to keep it quiet to avoid panicking the campers, but..." Jungkook trailed off, his eyes meeting (Y/n)'s. The unspoken worry hung heavy between them.

(Y/n) sank down onto the porch step, suddenly feeling exhausted. Jungkook sat beside her, their shoulders touching. The contact was comforting in the face of the night's uncertainties.

"What happens now?" (Y/n) asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook sighed. "Namjoon's organizing a more thorough search. We're going out in pairs to cover more ground. He thinks it's best we stay with our usual partner"

"Pairs?" (Y/n) echoed, a mix of relief and anxiety coursing through her. The thought of searching the dark woods alone was terrifying, but with a partner...

"Yeah," Jungkook nodded. "Safety in numbers, you know? Plus, it's easy to get turned around in the woods at night."

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the situation settling over them. In the distance, they could hear muffled voices - other counselors organizing search parties, no doubt.

"I can't believe this is happening," (Y/n) said, shaking her head. "Just a few hours ago, we were all laughing and telling ghost stories. And now..."

"Hey," Jungkook said softly, bumping his shoulder against hers. "We'll find him. Jason's a smart kid. He probably just got lost and is too embarrassed to call out for help, you know how he is."

(Y/n) wanted to believe him, but the nagging worry in the pit of her stomach wouldn't subside. "But what if it's something worse? What if-"

"Let's not jump to conclusions," Jungkook interrupted gently. "We don't know anything for sure yet."

(Y/n) nodded, trying to take comfort in his words. She looked at Jungkook, really looked at him, and saw the determination in his eyes despite the worry creasing his brow. It made her feel a little braver.

A ghost of a smile flickered across Jungkook's face. "Ready to head out?"

(Y/n) took a deep breath, steeling herself. "As ready as I'll ever be. Where are we searching?"

"Namjoon wants us to take the trail by the creek," Jungkook explained as they set off, flashlights in hand. "The one that leads down to the lake.The other are covering different areas."

They walked in silence for a moment, the sounds of the camp fading behind them. The beam of their flashlights cut through the darkness, creating eerie, shifting shadows among the trees. (Y/n) found herself drawing closer to Jungkook, the warmth of his presence a comfort against the chill of the night.

"It's so different out here," (Y/n) murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. She couldn't shake the feeling that speaking too loudly might disturb something better left undisturbed.

Jungkook nodded, his eyes constantly scanning their surroundings. "Yeah, it's like the whole forest changes after dark. Everything familiar becomes... strange."

They continued down the path, the crunch of leaves and twigs under their feet seeming unnaturally loud in the quiet of the night. The distant gurgle of the creek grew louder as they approached, the water a ribbon of silver in the moonlight.

"You okay?" Jungkook asked softly, noticing (Y/n)'s unease.

(Y/n) hesitated before answering. "Just... a little scared, I guess. I keep thinking about Jason out here alone. And Jin... where could he have gone?"

Jungkook's arm slipped around her shoulders, a comforting weight. "Hey, it's okay to be scared. I am too. But we're together, and we've got this, alright? We'll find them."

His warmth and steady presence helped ease some of (Y/n)'s fear, but she couldn't shake the nagging worry in the pit of her stomach. "Do you think..." she started, then paused, unsure if she wanted to voice her fears.

"What?" Jungkook prompted gently.

"Do you think something bad might have happened to Jason?" she finally asked, the words hanging heavily in the air between them. "I mean, Rose was so upset, and for Jin to disappear too..."

Jungkook was quiet for a moment before responding. "I don't know," he admitted. "But let's not assume the worst just yet. Jason could just be lost and scared, like Rose was. And Jin... well, he's probably out looking too, he probably realised the two of them were gone and went to find them."

(Y/n) nodded, trying to take comfort in his words. "You're right. I'm probably just letting Taehyung's ghost stories get to me."

Jungkook chuckled softly. "Those stories would make anyone jumpy. Remember the first week when he told that one about the vengeful spirit in the lake? I swear, half the campers refused to go near the lake for a week."

The memory brought a smile to (Y/n)'s face, easing some of the tension. They continued their search, calling out Jason's name every few minutes, their voices echoing strangely in the still night air.

As they neared the lake, the trees thinned out, revealing a stretch of a sandyshore. The water was a black mirror, reflecting the starry sky above. In daylight, this was a place of laughter and splashing. Now, it seemed vast and unknowable.

"Should we head back?" Jungkook asked, his voice low. "We've covered a lot of ground."

(Y/n) was about to agree when something caught her eye. A flash of white against the dark rocks at the water's edge. "Wait," she said, pointing. "What's that?"

They moved closer, their flashlights focused on the spot. As they approached, (Y/n)'s breath caught in her throat. Snagged on a jagged rock, fluttering slightly in the night breeze, was a piece of fabric. Even in the dim light, she could see the dark stains marring its surface.

"Is that..." Jungkook started, his voice trailing off.

(Y/n) nodded, a chill running down her spine. "It's a torn shirt. And that's... that's blood."

They stood frozen, the implications of their discovery sinking in. The peaceful night sounds of the forest seemed to fade away, leaving only the pounding of (Y/n)'s heart in her ears.

Jungkook's arm tightened around her. "We need to tell Namjoon. Now."

Taglist: @jungkooknippleanddicksucker

[zerobaselove]

acting homework | kim jiwoong

pairing: actor!jiwoong x costar!reader

genre: suggestive MINORS DNI

word count: 1096

warnings: no smut but it does get suggestive, lowercase intended, not proofread

prompts: 16. "let's kiss and see where this takes us."

notes: this unsurprisingly made my jiwoong problems so much worse LMAO but apologies as this is a little rushed and not my strong suit

"and, cut." the directors sharp voice cut through the air, ripping you and jiwoong out of the immersion of the kiss scene, not that there was much immersion to begin with. with his busy idol schedule on top of acting, you two hadn't actually gotten to meet until today, having done script readings over zoom and speaking in hypotheticals for weeks; so to say it was a little awkward was an understatement.

the director let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head at the two of you, "let's wrap up for the day," he put down his clipboard before walking over to you and jiwoong. "i need you guys to work on your chemistry, we are going for romance not whatever you think this is. you're both better than that and you know it." his words were harsh, but you couldn't help but agree with his statement; you two weren't exactly giving romance, and something had to change.

the director turned on his heel, walking back to his trailer, leaving the you and the taller man standing there, an awkward silence surrounding you. "so," you spoke up, not really knowing where to take your words. thankfully he took the lead, speaking up himself.

"do you maybe want to hang out? off this set, maybe somewhere with less people breathing down our necks." he let out a laugh, you following suit; the tension already lessening, thank god.

"yeah that sounds good, but where is even private around here?" you wondered out loud, you were in one of the biggest and busiest cities in the country. "well i know it's not very romantic but," he sighed, realizing how lame his suggestion was, "we could always go to my group's company building, there's always empty rooms there. and they're soundproof." he winked at you before his serious composure broke, suddenly covering his face in embarrassment of the implications it might've had. it was cute, you weren't used to seeing this side of him, but it made you feel a bit more at ease.

giving a small nod, you gestured for him to lead the way, the two of you making small talk on the way to the parking lot. surprisingly the conversation flowed better than you had imagined and you found yourself enjoying his conversation at the least. "this is me," he gestured to an all black car in front of you, rushing ahead to open the passenger door for you.

"thank you jiwoong." you smiled, hopping in the front seat as your eyes grazed over the details of the car.

a coffee cup for this morning you presume was sat in the cupholder, the other one filled with loose change. instead of the stereotypical fuzzy dice on the rearview mirror, he had a little charm of a butterfly which you thought was quite cute.

"here," he handed you his phone, spotify open already, "you can be in charge of the music." his smile was contagious, you thought to yourself, unable to contain a small smile from spreading to your lips as he looked at you with joy. you had only nodded as you scrolled through his playlists, heading out of the parking lot.

"oh i love this song," he exclaimed as you played something from his liked songs, causing you to laugh. "i hope so, it's from your likes." a sheepish grin took over his face, chuckling lightly before shaking his head, "you make a fair point."

the rest of the drive had been peaceful, light conversation in between faint melodies playing over the speakers. it was nice, he was nice; you had no doubt about that before, but getting to start to see his personality, you totally saw what everyone else saw in him, beyond his good looks.

arriving at what you assumed was the company building, jiwoong rushed out of the car, opening your door for you yet again. "i know how to use door handles, you know" you chuckled, nodding your head as a thank you before following him to the entrance. "what kind of gentleman would i be then?" tilting his head as the sliding doors to the building opened themselves for you this time.

eventually you ended up at what you assumed was a vocal practice room; there was a keyboard sitting in the corner with a desk and chair, as well as a small two seater couch that looked rather inviting after you'd spent your whole day standing. jiwoong sat down first, ushering you over to get comfortable.

"so, what do you want to do, do you want to practice, or?" you rambled on, not noticing the way jiwoong smiled at your string of words.

"well how about," he thought for a moment; he hadn't expected to like you this much, this quickly, but he couldn't stop thinking about kissing you, for real this time. not for the script or the directors approval, just to feel your lips on his. "let's kiss and see where this takes us, yeah?"

you didn't mean to nod so eagerly, but it was too late, jiwoong's smile widening at the idea of you wanting this as bad as he did. his hand came up to the back of your neck pulling you in slightly, your eyes fluttering shut as your heads tilted, connecting in a kiss that you were convinced had caused fireworks to go off around you. this was no match for earlier today, you thought to yourself. you weren't sure what changed but you were sure that you didn't want to stop.

you let one hand rest on his torso as you leaned in closer, parting your lips slightly, letting his tongue lick into your mouth. sure, it was moving a little fast, but you didn't care; he was addicting.

he tugged on your hair slightly, causing you to moan into his mouth which made his head spin more than he had been prepared for. his free hand had found it's way under your shirt, grabbing you at the waist, sending butterflies to your stomach. "do you want me to stop?" he mumbled against your lips, wanting to make sure you were okay with everything. you let out an opposing hum, but that wasn't enough for him.

"i need words love," the pet name made you dizzy, pulling apart for a moment to nod feverishly, "please, continue." your words were whinier than you meant them to be, but at this point you couldn't be bothered to care.

"then let's keep it up."

[henrysglock]

Warning: This blog is not a safe space for those who are anti-Palestine. That includes zionists. Also, I will be posting/reblogging ST5 leaks!

24 • #1 Vile Henry Creel Understander • pfp by @.stranger-comet

James' Master List

My Bullshit Theories:

The Big Analysis on The First Shadow (Nearly 50,000 words dissecting All That so you don't have to!)

Local Man Uses The Time Loop To Try And Change His Fate (An outline of the 27-year time loop that exists in Stranger Things Canon, plus an initial dive into the Upside Down's double agent)

D.A.D and The Squawk (The CONFIRMED direct connection between the radio-based Mindflayer Tracking device in TFS and the leaked radio station van)

Mirror, Mirror (The mirror in the Rainbow Room isn’t a mirror at all. It’s a window)

A Second El Has Hit The (Block) Towers (Instances of back-to-back duplicate El scenes in NINA)

This Silver Cat Has Nine Lives (There are nine distinct Brenners in the 4.01 massacre sequence alone)

Shattered Mirrors and Cracked Walls (An analysis of One’s dematerialization scene, the aftermath, and a determination that we’re being shown at least 4 timelines in the 4.07 massacre)

One Does Not Simply Lose A Gate (The 2nd part of the 4.07 massacre aftermath and proof that a timeline exists where Henry/Edward did nothing wrong)

Bloody Eyes, Changing Cracks, and Reversing Mirrors (The 3rd installment in the Cracks and Mirrors series: A pattern in El’s blood not only indicates 2 timelines, but also a non-Vecna One)

Well, Well...Look Whose Limbs Are Still Intact. (Part 4 of the Cracks and Mirrors series: El's eye blood pattern links to specific jumpsuits, it can be used as an indicator of attack style, and it revealed a second teen El in the 4.07 massacre.)

Where Is All The Blood Coming From? (A comparison between the 4.07 massacre's blood and the carnage resulting from democreature attacks)

Local Man Refuses to Pick A Damn Jumpsuit (Matching up the Dimension-X jumpsuits to 4.07 massacre jumpsuits)

Turn Around...Look At What You See...(At least one version of Brenner saw One killing Two in 1979 rather than El with the gate, and I've got receipts for it)

The Store Room Scene In NINA Is Actually A Bunch Of Different Versions of Events Frankenstein'd Together (Contains Concrete Proof)

The First Shadow: Impossible Timeline (The Timeline of the Newspapers Shown In The First Shadow Cannot Exist)

Why Do You, As The Big Bad, Have No Lines Or Powers? (Vecna’s physical form in the UD has no dialogue and doesn’t use psionic powers: evidence and theories)

Psycho Killer, Qu'est-ce Que C'est? (Neither Henry Nor Vecna Are Psychopaths: An In-Depth Behavioral Analysis)

Our Lord and Savior…Vecna? (Why Vecna/One is God, Based On Analysis Of ST4, The Bible, And Other Supporting Media)

The Very Special Easter of 1959 (The Order of Creel-Related Events As Compared To The Catholic Calendar. Read: More Proof That One Is God)

Fics:

Paper Faces — POTO x ST fusion fic (Complete)

ptolemaea (blessed be the children) — Henry’s fix-it fic (4/?)

Trick of the Light — Henry-Brenner-El centric 4.07 rewrite (2/3)

Papa Warbucks — Henry/Brenner Sugar Daddy AU (1/?)

Edits:

ABBEY (ft. Henry Creel)

NYMPHOLOGY (ft. HNL)

The Colors of ST4 (ft. Le Monde)

⬇️ Link Library Below The Cut ⬇️

Featured Posts

↳ Featured Timeline, Time Loop, and Alternate Reality Posts

Jekyll and Hyde? No. Vecna and Mindflayer Guy

Closet Guy is not one of the Massacre Guys

The Creel’s Impossible Move-In Date

A Night of Monologues: Scripted vs Filmed 4.07

Plinko Power: A Theory on One’s Time Powers

010's Multiple Testing Rooms

El's Eye Blood

Day and Night: 4.07 Script Discrepancies vs 6 Nov. 1983

Covered in Blood: The Massacre may have happened in 1983

Gravity Goofs: Concrete proof of multiple UDs

Brenner's Tie Gaffs (cont.)

↳ Featured Henry Posts

Psychopathy: Learned or Genetic

Jeffty is Five, Henry is 7

Henry's Third Monologue Iteration

Mothergate Origins

Room (2015)

Young Henry, Adult Henry, and the Rabbit Scene

Perspective On The Length of Henry's Imprisonment

Henry Didn't Manipulate El Re: Soteria

Henry's Unseen Costumes

NINA And Computers

↳ Featured TFS Posts

The Real Time Frame of TFS

Drugs, NINA, The Mindflayer, and TFS

Henry, Bob's D.A.D., and Understudy Incest

Patty’s Anti-Social Behavior

Daria Rip-Off

Some Concerns About Joyce’s Role

↳ Featured Supporting Media Posts

Midnight Mass: My Dead Sister, Alice

Midnight Mass: Rabbits, Mice, and Resurrection

Fringe: Chess and A Brave New World

Fringe: Stranger Things Have Happened

↳ Featured Radiationgate Posts

Eben Byers, Radium, and ST3's Soviet Plot

Vecna's Curse: Radiation Sickness Symptoms

Henry Creel Literally Nuked Hawkins

Nuclear Winter in the Side-Side Upside Down

The Nuclear Annihilation of 1983

↳ Featured Phantomgate Posts

POTO 2004: Film Analysis

Anon Cringe Compilation: 2024 Edition, Part 1

LINK TO MY LIBRARY OF POSTS

Other Edits:

Henry Creel: Brainless Borzoi

Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve (ft. Henry Creel)

Left-Brain, Right-Brain (ft. Henry Creel)

Art:

Creel Siblings Outfit Swap

Creelarke Aesthetic Board

TUNNEL VISION (ft. Henry Creel)

Other Social Media:

Twitter

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Cohost

[peemanne]

Disco Elysium Review: REACTION SPEED [Medium: Success] - "Uhm... Uh..."

wow hey that's not yakuza is it wowzers wowza

Yeah the game was like, really really really good so I really wanted to write something about it. Haven't done anything in a while I have to be honest so that's another reason for me to thank this game. Thank you, game

This review contains MINOR SPOILERS (but they're all out of context so honestly uhhhh you should be fine)

Reviewed on May 29, 2024. Last completed on May 26, 2023

Completed on PC

Rating: 10/10 (5 Stars)

Disco Elysium fans be like: "Oh, damn! Good thing I stocked up on healing items and quicksaved earlier! There's a really tough paragraph ahead!" It's me. I'm Disco Elysium fans.

It's hard for me to try to properly put into words how much I adore everything about this game. Every little detail, every single aspect, each and every one of those 1.2 million words in the script combine to grab you by the hand and wisp you away into its world.

This game's writing is seriously just something else. It's beautiful when it needs to be. Disturbing and haunting at times. Its comedic timing is perfect when it wants to. It's utterly heartbreaking when the time comes. The characters are all memorable, with even the seemingly insignificant side characters carrying with them bottomless depth. The amnesiac we play as oozes personality out of every alcohol-stained crevice, and carries himself through no matter which path you decide to take. Your inner monologue with your "stats" talking to you was a stroke of genius, and it does so much to inject life into every little thing you do. From hyping you up to sing karaoke, to telling you to lick spilled spirits on a table, to composing yourself to take a vital shot at an adversary, to trying to convince an old war vet to surrender their sandwich. Every little thing you do is painted before your very eyes, and you get to appreciate all of its stunning writing even more with the whole experience being fully voice-acted. Seriously, the prose in here is insane. Really inspires an idiot hobbyist like me.

And haha yeah I really enjoyed playing through this book alright alright, but I really must stress that Disco Elysium makes FULL use out of the game portion of "Computer Role Playing Game". The gameplay elements do an amazing job of bringing everything together. Your skills dictate which ones influence you the most, and which ones you're gonna hear from, further influenced by whatever ridiculous outfit you end up wearing. Not only is the skill system a great way to illustrate to the player their skills returning to them after the whole amnesia thing, but this does a lot to separate each playthrough from the last. One playthrough you'll have Encyclopedia inform you on some awesome fun facts about the chair you're sitting on, as you make use of Drama to crack open the man you're interviewing like a can. In the very next, you'll have Half-Light tell you to sucker punch a child who called you a homophobic slur. You experience the lives of almost entirely different men every time you hit "NEW GAME", despite most of the major points of the story remaining the same (and obviously the fact that you're still playing the same actual guy). But the biggest strength of the gameplay is how expertly it weaves everything together. It feels like even the smallest, most insignificant of checks will come back later to influence your next course of action. Lifted some weights in front of your partner to maybe show off a little earlier? Now you get a +2 advantage on your roll if you want to do a 360 spin kick on the head of a beefed-up racist guard. Messed up a pickup line really badly on a girl you met just after waking up? Ah, that's gonna be a -2 when you're trying to keep yourself composed when her name happens to get thrown in during an interrogation. The game will remember everything you say and do, no matter how insignificant it may seem at first. Even your check fails can open up new paths for you to take. I found myself not save-scumming as often as I thought I would, simply because messing things up would sometimes give me much funnier results than if I just succeeded as normal. I didn't find myself doing what I did for some arbitrary good or bad ending to aim for, I found myself doing what I felt like I would do. No, I found myself doing everything based on what I felt like my character would do, which might be the ultimate win for any RPG.

Most of all, Disco Elysium is a deeply human experience. This isn't a power fantasy where you play some untouchable god amongst men, you play as a broken, alcoholic man who drank so hard he can't remember what money is. Even with your physical skills as high as you can make them, the game makes it abundantly clear that you're still out of shape. Even if you're playing the whole thing sober, its characters still point out that you've downed barrels before and that you could probably break at a moment's notice. Even with Composure and Volition in your corner, keeping you up and letting you open your eyes every morning, you'll still get your heart broken again and again as memories start to resurface. And I love how the side cases never feel like lower-effort detours, but rather supplement your character, like you're simply walking through life. At one moment you'll be talking to your distractingly gaudy tie, and the next you'll try to talk a guy who yells "HARD-CORE!" at the top of his lungs whenever you approach him into becoming a communist. One second you'll repeat the same sentence over and over in front of an important ambassador like a broken record as your skills try to get you working normally again, and the next you'll try your best to tell a woman her husband's been found dead. And this game isn't afraid to get ugly: there are some downright horrific things showcased in its plot.

But after all of it, you get back up again. Your partner extends a hand to you. You put the bottle down and stretch your arms. Despite everything that's been thrown at you, every thought that's raced through your head, every rock thrown at your body, you keep living. It's a new day, and you've got a damn case to solve.

Sunrise, Parabellum.

[kiss2012]

ok rwrb thoughts under the cut <3

tbh i had to watch most of this movie with one hand over my eye and i was not. even going to reread the book because i don’t actually care about it much anymore but about twenty or so minutes into the movie? i literally stopped it and skimmed half the book finished the movie and then finished the book. so it’s possible that this influenced my whole experience of the movie but i remembered the book super well anyway and either way i think the thing i would have been most mad about is HOW COULD THEY LEAVE OUT JUNE and who tf is miguel omg. imagine deciding to combine two women into one character just because they “play the same role in alex’s life” and then not even doing it that well. nora isn’t even IN this movie she doesn’t even have a CHARACTER they just shoehorn her and pez together and give them five min of screentime. bea doesnt even have much of a character either i also thought maybe she and nora were going to be friends but no that disappeared after the first 15min. and because june doesn’t exist and because rafael luna doesn’t exist and because nora barely exists (all of whom are the main poc characters in the book btw) alex’s character is not half as nuanced as it could be. his arc about realising he’s bi is totally missing which is great…also his actor’s enunciation was very puzzling at times but i forgive him because of all the times i got distracted staring at his eyelashes and he was good at times tho henry’s actor is probably the best actor in the movie (not a tall bar btw but he’s way better than uma thurman GIRL WHAT WERE YOU DOING WITH THAT ACCENT) and it’s not that they don’t have chemistry or fun sweet romcom moments it’s just that i’m missing so much. romance. im tired of modern romance novels and movies having their leads get together super fast without spending much time on characterization and without even having much capital R-romance in the first place. where is the e-mo-tion in the immortal words of miss carly rae jepsen…like why did they leave out so much of the emails i cannot believe i watched so many random voice-overs and they couldn’t include the emails. also the small random change that bothered me the most is that they changed their first meeting being rio at the olympics to the climate melbourne conference (?????) and made their whole relationship pre-movie a lot less interesting. umm they did good with the interview and their interactions pre and post the cake but then they abandoned all of that half an hour in. do think the physical comedy is always way more fun to watch in a visual medium like that cake scene was hilarious they were just worse at the emotional beats. guys they used bad reputation 😭😭😭😭 i had to pause at that point…i had to pause and recover for ages. the get low scene contained a lot of Choices. the Choices were all very interesting and im not sure what more can be said about them. the beginning was fairly solid then everything sort of went downhill felt like i was watching a train wreck. mildly entertaining and occasionally moving train wreck but regardless a train wreck. btw let no one claim the political commentary in the novel is good but at least it slightly exists. the politics in the movie are completely spineless and extremely confused. yes it’s an amazon prime royalty romcom so what can u expect but they just hovered on the threshold of criticism. when they didn’t actually show a crowd of people supporting them or w/e but just showed the reflection of them in the window i almost started laughing. alex’s speech at the end lacked any subtlety at all and made no sense (why tf would he make a speech coming out + explaining his relationship with henry Before he talked to henry or the royal family???) the script is like constantly having characters say really obvious things. shoutout to stephen fry’s line delivery at least. there was a perfume genius cover of can’t help falling in love (it was supposed to be your song that played there anyway???). what more can be said.

[boxofbonesfic]

Okayyy, potential trope for you. Let's see if I can get your gears turning.

It's nice to meet your idol, right? Maybe it's your favorite actor or musician.

Say, our dear reader finally scores tickets to a meet and greet of some sort. She's been saving up for a while and she's very excited to meet [guy of your choosing]. Said man takes an interest in the reader and invites her to an after party. While initially excited, once there, the reader sees this isn't exactly what it's cracked up to be.

OR

One specifically for Cap. Similar to the plot above but not an AU. Captain America saves the reader's life in one of the many attacks on New York lol. The reader delivers baked goods to Steve as a thank you, but it seems he has other plans. American's Golden Boy may not be as sweet as everyone thinks.

Title: Baker’s Dozen

Pairing: Dark!Steve x Baker!Reader

Wordcount: 1,378

Summary: You just want to deliver a personal thanks to the man who saved your life.

Warnings: Dark, Implied Noncon, Drugging, Burnt Fluff, Meet Cute, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, MINORS DNI

A/N: i had so much fun writing this, even though it took three tries! Unedited and unbeta’d, I do not consent for this or any work to be posted anywhere else by anyone but me. Read at your own risk, and mind the warnings. Enjoy!

The elbow narrowly misses the box of cupcakes in your hands, but only because you turn away just in time, taking the unassuming blow to your side instead. You grunt with pain, and the blonde who’d elbowed you looks back over her shoulder. Her eyes track over you like she’s sizing you up.

 “Sorry.” You can tell by the curl of her lip that she isn’t sorry at all. “We’ve just been waiting here so long, I was stretching out.” She’s wearing a Captain America t-shirt, Steve’s smiling face looking out at you soullessly from the image. “Have you been here long?”

 You’d been waiting longer than she had—but unlike her, you weren’t there as a fan, not really. 

 “Yeah,” you reply tartly. “A while.” Her obligational apology complete, the blonde turns back to the tower entrance, standing on her tip-toes to catch a peek of the heroes inside. You were in awe of them, but not like her. Last year, during the invasion of New York, Steve Rogers had personally saved your life. The memory is still so vivid that it sours your stomach. 

 Horrible, alien chattering, the smell of charred flesh—no thoughts, only cold, clear panic—bodies, under the rubble, under cars, in the street, running—and then him. Cutting down your pursuers with a precision that chilled you to think about. 

 “It’s okay, doll. Let’s get you out of here, okay?” 

 You wouldn’t be here without him. 

 The crowd begins to murmur, people jostling you as they begin clamoring for a glimpse of the people approaching the tower. The low murmur rises, becoming a dull hum and then louder as the street began to echo with the shouts of adoration. It’s like the Avengers are celebrities, not heroes, the way people scream and fawn. You clutch your container as the sea of people rocks you, praying you don’t lose hold of it. 

 All of them are there—Natasha, the Black Widow, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Thor—and Steve Rogers. You try to go over your script in your head again, trying to remember all the parts. Hi, I just wanted to thank you for—

 “Tony! Tony Stark!” Someone behind you screams. “I love you!” His head swivels in your direction, and your face burns with secondhand embarrassment. 

 “These for me?” He asks you, smirking as he gestures to the box. 

 “I, er, well actually—” The blonde elbows accidentally-on-purpose again, and this time your box slips from your grasping fingers, and tumbles face down onto the concrete. 

 “Ooops.” 

 You bite your lip as Tony bends down to collect the card inside, swiping a glob of frosting off of the front of it, before his eyes flick up to you. 

 “Not for me, then.” He looks over his shoulder. “Capsicle, this one’s all you.” Your heart hammers in your chest at his words, and embarrassed tears begin gathering in your eyes. You’d gone to a lot of trouble to wait here, just to thank him. There were others he’d saved, you know that, but… still. 

 This was stupid anyway.

 Steve pulls the card from Tony’s fingers, and your face heats as his eyes move over the thank you written on the inside. You’d rather hoped you wouldn’t be around when he read it, but then again, you’d hoped he’d actually be able to eat the cupcakes you’d spent the better part of this morning—and yesterday night—slaving over. But instead, they were smashed on the sidewalk, and he was reading your card right in front of you. 

 “I, I—”

 “You made these for me?” He asks, and you swear steam must be pouring out of your ears, from the heat of your cheeks. 

 “Yes,” you murmur, clearing your throat before repeating yourself, louder. “Yes. I wanted to say, um. Thank you. For saving me.” He flashes you one of those million watt smiles you’ve seen him give on television, and your chest tightens. 

 “Well I’ll tell you what. Since I didn’t get to eat these, why don’t we try this again?” 

 “Again?” You repeat stupidly, your brows knitting together. 

 “Again.” He confirms with a nod and a wider smile. “Why don’t you come by again tomorrow evening?” His eyes flick to the blonde beside you. “Less chance of any more accidents.” Steve winks at you, and you stammer out a yes. “Perfect. Lookin’ forward to it, doll.” 

 —

 This time, security escorts you into the building, your last two cupcakes clutched against your chest. The same blonde is out there again, and she glares daggers at your back as the black paneled doors close behind you. Steve is waiting for you in the lobby. 

 “You made it,” he says, waving. “Good.” 

 Stiffly, you hold out the container. “This is, um. For you.” He takes it, and you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear nervously. “I just. I didn’t get to say thank you, that time. I know you probably don’t even remember, but—”

 “Thirty fourth street.” He says, softly. You don’t realize he’s talking to you at first, until his eyes find yours. “Right? That’s where you were.” Your heart is pounding so loud you’re sure he can hear it. “I remember you.” 

 You swallow thickly. “O-oh.” 

 “Why don’t you come up? I can’t eat both of these by myself.” He says, wiggling the container a little. The delicately frosted roses inside are some of your best work, it had been a particular blow to see them get destroyed yesterday. 

 “I, I shouldn’t, I—”

 “Nonsense. Please, I insist. I won’t consider myself properly thanked unless you eat one of these amazing looking cupcakes with me. Please.” 

 You hedge for a moment longer before nodding. “Alright. It’s just… I eat too many of them anyway,” you joke, trying to ease the tension. He smiles, heading for the elevators. His room is high up, on a floor that makes you dizzy when you look out of the window and down to the street. It’s more like an apartment than a room, and you wonder dryly if Tony Stark is a decent landlord. 

 Steve steers you over to the kitchen, seating you at the island. “Anything to drink?” 

 “Water, please.” 

 “I’ve got… sparkling? I think Tony stocks this stuff,” he mutters, and you laugh.

 “I’ll take one off your hands.” 

 You fiddle with your phone as he pours it into a glass, and slides it across the counter to you. With barely concealed anticipation, you watch him open up the container, and remove the blue rose cupcake from its wrapping. You take a sip of the water, immediately regretting it as the bubbles spark and burn against your throat. 

 “You like to bake, doll?”

 “I had my own bakery,” you say, chasing a few stray droplets of water from your lips. “You know, before.” 

 “I’m sure your boyfriend is very proud of your success.”

 Your face goes hot. “I, um, I don’t—”

 “No? I find that hard to believe.” His gaze feels heavy as it rests on you. “You’re so sweet.” He takes a bite, and the resounding moan makes you want to squirm in your seat. “That’s amazing. Knew it would be,” he wipes a dot of frosting from his cheek, and you take another big swallow of your water. “You know, out of all the people I saved, you’re the only one to come and thank me personally?” 

 You blink slowly at him, processing the words. You don’t know why it takes you a moment longer than it should. 

 “N-no? That’s terrible.” The words feel clumsy in your mouth, like there are too many syllables in them. 

 “Oh yes. You know, I remembered you,” he reaches across the counter to touch your arm, and his hand lingers. “Sweet, soft,” his voice drops lower. “Alone.”

 Your stomach lurches, and the room tilts as you try to scramble away from him. The floor—how did you end up on the floor?—is cold beneath your clammy palms as Steve comes around the island. 

 “You’re sweet on me, doll, admit it. I don’t mind,” he says, dropping to a squat in front of you. Steve licks the rest of the icing from his fingers, taking his time with each. “Because I think I’m sweet on you, too.” 

fin

[thestagsheadsblog]

Seeing You Again (Chapter 5)

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x Reader, Childhood Friends

Word Count: 2.4K

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

Read on AO3

Note: Thanks for all the love on this fic and sorry for the looong delay on this chapter!

"A new letter from the USS Blue Balls came in the mail!"

Hearing your sister's voice from the entrance hallway you dashed out of your room to meet her in the kitchen, snatching the letter out of her hand.

"Read it to me," she requested.

"Absolutely not," you laughed as you inspected the postage. Direct from the Fleet Post Office in San Francisco, otherwise no evidence whatsoever as to where Bob may have been at the moment the letter was posted. 

Emily shrugged and poured herself some cereal. "It's actually really cute that he writes you letters like he's off fighting in the Civil War or some shit. 'My dear Miss Y/L/N'," she teased with an exaggerated good ol' boy Southern accent. "Most guys would just send a picture of their dick and leave it at that."

"Robbie is a bit more sentimental than that," you smiled, tempted to open the letter then and there.

"I'm sure you wouldn't mind a picture of whatever he is packing," she estimated, ignoring your eyeroll and refusal to respond. 

This was the third letter you had received from Bob since he had left. You occasionally got texts and emails from him, of course, but his internet access was sporadic at best and the letters became the most effective way to have a meaningful 'conversation' over the weeks he had been at sea. 

Before he left, you had met one last time in San Diego; his bags packed and dressed in the same khaki uniform he had worn the first night you saw him at The Hard Deck. 

"I didn't know aircraft carriers had mailing addresses," you said in wonderment as he handed you a slip of paper containing details of his carrier, squadron, rank and a San Francisco address in neat script.

"It's more of a forwarding service," he explained. "Anything sent there will get to me...eventually. Just be aware that they may, uh, read everything you send."

You smiled at the blush rising on Bob's cheeks as he talked about the prospect of their private correspondences being read by strangers at the post office. 

"So no snail mail sexting is what you're telling me?" you joked.

Bob laughed and grew impossibly redder. "I don't think they care so much about what my girlfriend has to say to me as they do about security threats but...yeah. They may still read it."

You swallowed and looked up at him with a quirked brow. "Your girlfriend?"

Bob looked back, eyes blown wide in panic. "Sorry...I just thought...you know, the way things were going," he raked his hand through his hair. "I probably should have asked you if that was the case-"

You pulled him down into a kiss to put him out of his misery. He sighed in relief against your lips. 

"Now I can finally tell all the mean girls in 4th period math that Robbie Floyd is actually my boyfriend without it being a lie," you said with a cheeky smile as he pressed his forehead against yours.

While you were elated to know that you and Bob had finally made your relationship official, your joy quickly subsided into an uneasy wistfulness. You hated to see him go. It brought back heartsick memories of crawling to the back window of your mom's minivan, waving at your best friend as he chased you down the street as fast as his legs could take him, until you disappeared around the bend following your dad's U-Haul. You wouldn't see each other again for 17 years. 

The day after Bob's carrier had departed from North Island your mood had matched the gloom of the marine layer that settled over San Diego. Your last message to him on your phone remained unseen. He was officially off-the-grid, your only comfort being a handwritten address to San Francisco. 

You had felt a bit silly sitting down to handwrite your first letter. You hadn't written a personal correspondence via snail mail since your parents made you send letters to Santa Claus at the North Pole. Mailing something to an aircraft carrier in the middle of the ocean seemed just as whimsical and preposterous. Would he ever read it or, like your letters to the North Pole, would you be sending this letter for your own sake? You had to believe he would, so you took to the task with just as much sincerity as your childhood wish lists.

Lieutenant Floyd, I should have sent this letter 17 years ago, but at least now you finally have proof to show your friends confirming that you have a girlfriend... 

Even though you were more than certain Bob held a deep affection for you, you were still hesitant at this early stage in your relationship; more so now that he was going to be gone for months. You didn't want to wax poetic about your feelings for him, nor did you want to go full pornographic by divulging everything you wished you had done with him before he left. Instead, you approached the letter as though he were just beside you, a form of pillow talk that he could enjoy during his rare moments of downtime, sitting in his officer's berth just below the flight deck.  

You told him how the weather had turned as soon as he left, how Emily had tried to talk you into going to The Hard Deck again (something you were in no way interested in doing without him being there). You told him about how your mom asks how he is fairing more often than she does her own daughters. You updated him on the shows he is missing that you will need to binge together; the latest shitty Hallmark movie with terrible acting you will force him to watch. You confessed that San Diego wasn't the same without him and that you hoped to get a letter from him soon. 

You had frowned as you came to the end of the letter, unsure how to sign off. Your pen hovered over the paper before quickly inscribing Love, and your name. You folded and sealed the letter in an envelope before you could overthink your words and the next day you had popped it into the nearest mailbox, next stop San Francisco.

Weeks went by before his first letter arrived, dingy and banged up as though it went through a war zone. Forwarded to Dr. Y/L/N and your home address. 

In classic Bob style, he was polite and eager in his letter, thanking you for writing to him, expressing how he had hoped to get something from you at every Mail Call, confessing how he was missing you too. He wrote in deliberately vague details about his work and in explicit minutiae on the sophomoric antics of his shipmates. He told you about how long it had taken him to get used to sleeping on a carrier again, to the sound of the catapult and Growlers landing just over his stateroom. He refused in advance to watch the Hallmark movie you suggested (a toothless claim if you ever read one). He explained how it was possible to still feel lonely when you were in close quarters with over six-thousand people. He couldn't wait to get back to San Diego. 

At the bottom of the page, he had signed off Love, Robbie. 

Each subsequent letter was more substantial than the last as though you were both working through your hesitancy - unsure of how much enthusiasm and candidness you could unload on the other without crossing into the territory of a Stage 5 Clinger. By the third letter, Bob had apparently thrown caution to the wind and you marveled at the thick weight of the envelope which you could only assume contained more than just notebook paper. 

Despite Emily's protestations, you set the most recent letter aside in your room to read when you got home from work. The letters deserved to be treated better than a common text for immediate consumption. Half the excitement was waiting until the end of the day, theorizing for hours on what he may have written about or what was included in the envelope that had come from a ship halfway around the world. Your workload at the office always suffered from your daydreams on the days you knew you had a letter waiting at home. 

That night you grabbed a quick dinner, poured yourself a glass of wine and kicked the door to your bedroom closed with a buzz of anticipation. How a long-distance relationship with such sporadic contact still managed to bring you so much happiness was something you might never fully understand, but you knew it had more than a little to do with the comfort of knowing Bob was out there somewhere and he was thinking of you...a lot apparently, if this latest letter was any indication.   

You set your glass on the nightstand and finally tore the envelope open, unfolding Bob's thick letter and releasing a small stack of photographs that fell onto your lap. 

Setting the letter aside for a moment you picked up the photos to inspect them. A smile spread across your face as you looked at the image of you and Bob at no more than eight years old, sitting on the swing set that his father had assembled in their backyard. You chuckled at your gap-toothed grins and the glasses that were too big for Bob's face even back then. The next photo was from Halloween a few years later, each of you in a silly costume and a pillowcase full of candy, with neat cursive on the back confirming Halloween 2000. 

Photo after photo displayed little snippets of your childhood, some you remembered being taken as clearly as if it had been yesterday and others unearthed long forgotten memories of your life on that quiet street. You laughed aloud at a photo of you and Bob smiling innocently with a bucket of water balloons while a soaked Emily sobbed just out of focus behind you. 

"Okay, I need to know what he wrote that's making you laugh so much," Emily's voice came from just outside your bedroom door.

"Come in," you said. "You need to see these."

Emily entered your room and flopped on the bed beside you. You handed her the photographs and turned your attention to Bob's letter. 

"No way," she said in wonderment. "Where did he find these?"

As soon as I told my mom I had run into you a few months ago and we were hanging out she went digging in our attic to find these pictures. She mailed to me on the carrier a few weeks ago. I thought you'd like to see them too. I got a good laugh out of some of them. 

"His mom found them and sent them on to him," you explained as you continued reading his letter.

"He had his mom dig out all these old photos of the two of you?"

"I don't think he made her, but she did."

"And he sent them to you..."

"That's what was in with this letter," you replied.

Emily propped herself up on her elbow and looked at you directly. "Girl," she exhaled. "This man is in love with you."

A blush bloomed on your face, and you found yourself at a loss. You didn't want to brush off her words or deny her theory, but you felt more than a bit overwhelmed. You were certain no one had ever been in love with you before, much less someone of the caliber of Bob. You weren't quite sure whether you were ready to admit that love may be a part of this equation. 

"Like, normally I'd have my doubts because he's on an aircraft carrier with thousands of dudes and of course that could make some men mushy and desperate-"

"There's women on carriers now," you pointed out.

"Yeah, like two," she rolled her eyes. "I doubt many guys on that ship are sending literal hand-written dissertations to their childhood sweethearts every few weeks. Much less ones they haven't even slept with yet." 

You sighed. You felt lucky and elated, but you also wanted Bob to come back. There was a staggering itch of unfinished business between the two of you that these letters were doing little to scratch. If anything, they made it more urgent. 

"If you don't fuck his brains out the instant-"

"Stop!" you laughed, smacking Emily with the nearest throw pillow. 

"I'm serious!" she laughed in turn, blocking the pillow assault with her forearm. "All these letters and being on a carrier for months, he'll probably propose immediately after he cu- Ow! And I'll have to look for a new roommate!"

Emily rolled away, still giggling from your attack. You tempered your own laugher as you picked up his letter again.

"Well, you have a few months to plan for that," you lamented. "He's not going to be back anytime soon."

"More time to build the sexual tension," she sniggered. "Not that you need any more of that..."

You kicked Emily out to read the remainder of Bob's letter in peace. Despite what your sister had claimed, there were no exuberant professions of love in his words, but you had to admit the sentiment was there, nonetheless. He was not writing to just an old friend. These were love letters even if the only time the actual word appeared was just prior to his name at the end of his last page.   

Your wine finished and Bob's letters re-read from front to back for the nth time, you sat down to begin penning your next correspondence. You felt emboldened by Emily's foresight (and the wine, most likely) and wanted to nail down the plans for Bob's return. You wanted to meet him pier-side on North Island. It was an intimate request, something usually reserved for family, but if what Emily suspected was true, it wouldn't be too outlandish. At least you hoped Bob would welcome the offer.

Like your first letter, you stuffed and sealed the envelope before you could second-guess yourself. Bob may very well be in love with you, but you couldn't be one-hundred percent certain, not until he had returned, and you could see where your relationship lead. The only acute certainty you had was that you were unflinchingly, positively stupidly, head over heels in love with Bob. 

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[taechaos]

Silent Treatment

from Textbook Love drabble series

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble, smut, college au

synopsis: Why did you reject him? He’s consumed by his thoughts and theories of your behavior because you didn’t say a single word to him. If your actions were anything to go by, which apparently speak louder than words, you didn’t even want him to touch you.

warnings: slight angst, drugs, arguing, dubcon, cunnilingus, mild degredation

word count: 4.2k

tags: @mwitsmejk @1-in-abillion @kooookie

a/n: the request (contains some spoilers). i'm gonna take a very short break from this couple to write other requests!! hope u enjoy 💗

The shift in the Spring weather is unpredictable. One moment it’s chilly, and the other sunny. Humans can only adapt so much, and it causes an outbreak of common colds. Most people recover easily, handy medicine soothing their sore throats, syrups suppressing coughs, and nose sprays ridding the blockage. You, on the other hand, are not that lucky. With a weak immune system, you’re very careful to not get sick, but there must have been a slip-up because you’ve somehow lost your voice after catching a cold.

You sniffle and cough, but you can’t speak. It’s advised to not exert your vocal cords in cases like these, and that is just so unfortunate for you. The last thing you’d ever want to do is spread your sickness to Jungkook, and that meant not getting too close to him; it meant no kissing. 

A very large white placard is spread out in front of you on the wooden table, and you’re plastering printed images of a specific global issue on it. You’re sitting on a bench with two of your friends as they chatter mindlessly while you work. Jungkook has a project about climate change due in a few days, and it’s supposed to be very important for his final grade. You’ve already written him a script for his presentation along with a stick prop to point at specific pictures. It’s fun, glittery and he’s going to love it. 

“Hey,” Minnie, your friend, calls for you, “we’re going to get some coffee from Starbucks. Want us to get you green tea?”

Soyeon laughs when your eyes light up; it’s your favorite beverage, and it’s supposed to help with your sore throat. They leave with a smile after you give them a hyper nod and you’re alone as you adjust your woolen scarf around your neck. You need to heal as fast as you can so you’re no longer missing your beloved’s affection.

Jungkook has been feeling more inclined to approach you without reason lately, but that doesn’t mean it’s a common occurrence. Getting teased by his friend, specifically Taehyung, about having a sissy crush on a girl like yourself angered him to no end. A hit always got him to shut up, but not for long. He’s walking your way today because there’s no one around to judge him for talking to you. 

You’re tearing a double-sided tape when he sits on your table, carefully avoiding your materials. Your breath hitches as his eyes gloss over your work in progress. “Working hard, I see,” he comments with disinterest. He doesn’t say anything about your efforts, but he’s impressed. The corner of his lip tugs upwards before he leans in for a kiss. You have enough self-control and concern for his well-being over your desires to lean back before your lips make contact. His face is close to yours as he pauses and slightly frowns before trying again. He receives the same results and finally pulls back. 

“You did well,” he frowns at you and speaks as if you’re a child, “I’m praising you.” Your eyes are darting back and forth awkwardly and you don’t know what to do other than sit in silence. You put your hands on his knees as a resort and his frown deepens as he watches you. “I can take a hint, you know. You don’t have to fucking ignore me.” He roughly shoves your hands and stands up before storming off with a scoff. You’re torn between following him and being responsible over your belongings. You can’t let his grades go to waste because of a small misunderstanding, so you decide to text him instead. There’s always a possibility someone might steal his project. Or maybe after he’s cooled off? You delay the message, but somewhere in your heart, you’re satisfied by his reaction because it’s clear that he wanted to kiss you.

Heavy footsteps clomp against the sidewalk before Jungkook slumps on the seat next to Taehyung. It’s an isolated area for smoking students at the back of the campus, and his friend group is no exception to this role. They’re taking drags of cigarettes individually as Jungkook glares at his boots. They’re chunky and a bold black, and his dark outfit paints him as the big bad wolf. It fits, because he’s ready to attack when he’s filled with so much resentment. Why did you reject him? He’s consumed by his thoughts and theories of your behavior because you didn’t say a single word to him. If your actions were anything to go by, which apparently speak louder than words, you didn’t even want him to touch you. It doesn’t make sense, but you also grimaced at him, but then why were you doing his homework? He’s feeling frustrated, and upset all the same.

“Someone’s troubled,” Seokjin points out with a mouthful of smoke. “Kookie?”

Said boy only grunts in response.

“Did the lousy girl finally see you for who you really are and leave you?” Taehyung doesn’t hesitate to mock him with a pout. “Tragic.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tae,” Jungkook spits and sends him a death glare, fire flaming in his fierce eyes. “Go actually talk to a girl or something, and leave me alone. I can’t take your shit right now.”

The low blow doesn’t affect Taehyung in the slightest as he holds up his hands in defence with comically wide eyes. “Relax, tiger.”

“Moving on from Tae’s inability to talk to girls in broad daylight, what’s up with you Kook?” Namjoon butts in, earning a fake cough from the receiving end of the insult.

He pauses for a moment before babbling, “I hate those bitches. My mother for one, couldn’t stand wearing clothes whenever she saw a dude. Moving on from guy to guy, unless they’re a fucking asshole. What do they want? Why are they never fucking satisfied?!”

A moment of silence passes among the huddled friends before Yoongi breaks it with a joke, “Who’s the lucky girl?” It doesn’t land as Jungkook deeply sighs in response. “Did she cheat on you?” he tries again.

“No,” he murmurs.

“Then…?”

“She… I don’t fucking know, she gave me the silent treatment. She leaned away from me too,” he shakes his head with a quiet groan, “it just doesn’t add up. I got mad and left.”

“No way that could’ve ended up badly,” Taehyung chuckles but purses his lips when he’s sent another dirty look.  “How long was the interaction anyway?” 

“Like 30 seconds.”

“Are you coming out tonight?” Yoongi asks and puts out the burning tip of his stick. “Could help you feel better.”

“And we’ve got molly,” Namjoon adds.

“Yeah, fine, whatever.”

Alcohol’s effect on a person differs in moods, and Jungkook is usually a horny drunk. Being a sad drunk is a first for him tonight, but he’s just so confused. It made his heart drop when you outwardly refused his advances and anxiety blossomed in his chest, which he has no idea how to deal with. It kicked in fight or flight instincts, and he just… hated the idea of you not loving him, even if it’s momentary. He can’t bear staying in a situation that makes him feel so insecure, and that feeling is supposed to be left in his childhood. You just about brought out the worst in him without doing anything. 

You didn’t do anything.

It’s 10PM and he’s waiting on your usual good night text that he never responds to. It’s so pathetic, and he hates himself for being so used to your affection that it worries him when he’s deprived of it. He’s never doubted your love for him, but his insecurities are churning his gut. It’s an overflow of all of his pent-up emotions, and he can’t handle it.

“Here,” Taehyung pops in out of nowhere, clutching a pill in his hand. There’s a bottle of water in the other as he holds them out for Jungkook to take. “Stop moping and get laid.”

“I’d say the same to you, but you’d probably start crying during sex,” he mumbles and uncaps the bottle before throwing in the pill and washing it down with the water. “Thanks.”

“See that girl over there?” he ignores him and steps behind his miserable friend to point at the owner of the sultry gaze directed at Jungkook from the bar. “She wants to fuck you. Or maybe me, but I’m passing her onto you.”

“How kind of you,” he sarcastically replies.

“Uh-uh, so you’re gonna be in ecstasy in about 10 minutes. Don’t fuck this up.” He slaps his shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen. It’s a lonesome party because not a lot of people are allowed in when drugs are involved. Causing a ruckus, receiving a noise complaint and then getting arrested is out of the question. 

He isn’t interested in sex with a stranger - not today at least -, but he hopes for it to change as he waits to approach her. Maybe drugs will rile him up enough to have fun with someone else and rid his mind of you. It’s an annoying itch on his brain, so he rests his head against the couch to comfort himself with the soft fabric. He’s sleepy from the beer he drank earlier, and he doesn’t know how time goes by so fast when he closes his eyes.

A few minutes must have passed, because he’s starting to feel dizzy in his seat. A smile carves on his face as his mind grows slightly fogged, and he opens his eyes to find the girl quietly chatting with a friend. When she glances at him, he beckons her to come over. She mouths a “be right back” to her friend before strutting in his direction.

“Hey,” she smiles down at him before sitting on the couch. She’s aristocratic, chic and pretty. “Sorry if I weirded you out earlier.” Her voice is sweet like honey, and her words flow out of her tongue so naturally. A dream girl, really, and Jungkook is starting to get horny.

“I don’t mind,” he reassures with a subtle seductive tone, “what’s a girl like you doing with this crowd? You look too innocent.” He wraps a finger around a strand of her hair and twirls it. It feels strange.

“My friend sent me here, told me to watch over someone,” she lowly speaks. “I’m Soyeon.”

“Nice to meet you, Soyeon,” he breathes before crashing her lips with his. His hand reaches down to grip her thigh, tongue poking out to swipe the sticky gloss. It’s flavored, and it tastes of strawberry. When she kisses him back so slowly, innocently, it turns him on so much. His pants feel tight around his crotch as he runs another hand through her soft hair. Compared to him, she’s passionate whereas he’s sloppy. He’s starting to get dizzier, and it feels so fucking good, but he hates it.

There is not a single reason for him to not enjoy this, not when his mood is lifting so high. The hand on her thigh lands on her cleavage instead and she’s so submissive and shy, but something’s off. He groans into her mouth before biting her lip, ripping a whine out of her. Why does she sound so sexy and annoying?  

He pulls away from her before sighing in irritation. “Fuck, I can’t do this.” 

“Did I do something wrong?” she asks worriedly.

“No, just, fuck.” He starts laughing before rubbing his palms on his eyes, “I really want to fuck, but I just can’t.”

“We can just chat,” she softly suggests. “What’s your name?”

“Jungkook.”

He removes his hands from his face when she goes silent. Her eyes are wide and she’s gaping at him… guiltily? “Crap,” she hisses quietly, “I was supposed to make sure you were okay. My roommate is like, super in love with you and asked me to come here.”

He says your name in a question, wondering if it’s you. When she nods, he asks for your dorm instantly.

“She’s in room 124… Why?”

When he stands up, there’s a sway in his posture but he recovers quickly. There’s an involuntary grin on his face as he thanks her ignorantly. He’s out of the villa in a rush, and he has the overwhelming urge to just run. The campus is a bit far away from the house, but he doesn’t care as his footfalls echo in the dark streets. He has so much energy to waste, and with his current stamina, he’s confident he’ll find you before dawn. It’s stupid but it’s fun, and he doesn’t care for catching his breath as the corner stores pass by him in a blur. 

Throughout the two hours of his reckless jog, where he mixed up directions multiple times, his mind is starting to clear up little by little. He’s happy because of what Soyeon told him, and he feels relieved upon seeing the familiar college building. He’s not allowed in dorms at this time, but he’s done this too many times to get caught. Except he was drunk in those instances, and being on MDMA was different. Sneaking past security was tough because he couldn’t bring himself to tiptoe without making so much noise. When they glanced at him, he thought it to be the only choice to just run past them. He’s in the elevator by the time they catch on, and the numbers look wonky in his eyes but he presses the button for the right floor. 

He’s shifting his weight repeatedly in an attempt to contain his excitement; he wants to see you so bad. The moment he hears the ding of the elevator, he’s running past the halls and stops upon seeing 124. He has to squint, but he knows this is your dorm. 

You wake up with a silent gasp when there’s a pound on the door. You clutch your sheets in fear until someone starts to sing your name. “Jungkook?” you mouth to yourself. You stand up and look through the peephole and there’s a man on the other side who’s bouncing on his feet impatiently.

“Open up,” he sings loudly. You’re worried when you swing the door open and yank him inside so he doesn’t wake up any other students. You try to talk but only a wheeze comes out, so you switch on the light to see him instead. The brightness hurts your eyes as you close them for a few seconds. “Well, well, well, look who we have here…”

He starts to circle around you slowly and stumbles behind you. “Sending people to spy on me after rejecting me like that.” His words are slightly slurred and you turn around to face him with a pout. You point at your throat to give him a hint, but his eyes don’t waver from your pleading ones. “What are your intentions, huh?” he weakly pushes you, “Sending me mixed signals. Who- who do you think you are?”

You hold his hands and place them on your neck, trying to communicate with him by mouthing, “I’m sick,” but he only chuckles. He seems sickeningly joyous, but he’s not over his anger. “Still not going to talk to me? What did I even do?”

You deeply inhale from your nose because he’s not paying attention to you. You’re frustrated with yourself until he yells, “WHY WON’T YOU TALK TO ME?” The surge of serotonin, his state of euphoria is crashing down on him the more you ignore him. He had believed the drug would only make him happy, but it intensified his sadness and anxiety just as much when he saw you. It helped him forget you in a social circle, but you confused him so much after he was reassured for so long - coupled with your silence, he’s raging.

“Why are you ignoring me?! What did I do that was so bad that you can’t bear talking to me anymore? You told me you loved me, please,” he chokes and tries to swallow the lump in his throat. “I-I’ll make it up to you, I’m so sad right now. Just say something…”

You’re watching him in shock and a hint of fear from his fluctuating mood. You want to cry at how pitiful he looks, but instead you aim to grab a piece of paper from your bedside table. He misreads your actions and pushes you against the wall. “Stop this. Stop!” He has your arms pinned and he’s trying so hard to intimidate you so you give in. A dry sob leaves you because he's going mad, but then he has a sudden epiphany. “Maybe you’ll love me again if I fuck you hard enough and engrave it in your brain that you’re mine. Yes, yes!”

He starts unbuckling his belt and you immediately try to stop him; he’ll get sick! He shoves you again and pulls down his jeans before mashing his mouth against yours. All of your efforts have gone to waste when his tongue forces its way down your throat. There’s no point to denying him now, so you hesitantly kiss him back. You’re so guilty, and he’s so careless as he roughly pushes his hand down your white cotton shorts. You’re wearing a navy blue sweater to match so you don’t get cold in the night, but the shorts are meant to prevent a fever. What’s the point now, then? He hasn’t even read your texts that you only remembered to send before sleeping. He missed a whole paragraph of your explanation and confronted you so angrily.

“I’m going to fuck you all night,” he growls against your lips, “then you’ll remember how much you love me.” Your moans are quiet and hitched as he presses down on your clit through your panties. His other hand is on his cock as he strokes it eagerly, ready to get inside you. “I missed you so fucking much in one day,” he whispers in a croak. Hearing it makes you feel even warmer inside as you nudge his hand to urge him to enter you. “You missed me too, huh?” he takes notice of your neediness. “Shouldn’t have fucking brought it upon yourself then.”

He removes his hand from your shorts and taps your thighs before demanding, “Jump.” You bite your lip in consideration until he taps them harder and you quickly wrap your legs around his waist. Your shorts are relatively short, resembling loose boxers, so when your back is pressed against the wall he only pushes them and your underwear to the side before thrusting into you. A scream gets caught in your throat, and you forget all about your aches as he roughly fucks into you without caring for protection or lube. It stings only slightly, but the pleasure in feeling so full of him outweighs the pain.

Jungkook is moaning and groaning as he bruises your thighs in his hold. Your panting is all he can catch, and though the feeling of you is an amplified sensation because of the drug coursing in his system, he wants to hear you chant his name as well. “Still quiet?” he tuts and carries you to your narrow bed and you cling onto his shoulder while trying to catch your breath after the sudden attack. “Your cunt is throbbing though,” he says as he pulls out of you and drops you on the bed. He manhandles you by flipping you on your stomach and holds up your ass. He finally takes off your bottom clothing, but he’s slightly dizzy as he yanks them off your ankles. He spreads your thighs apart and you’re on your knees with your head against the mattress. “I wonder why that is,” he says before slapping your pussy, making you whimper quietly. “So wet, yet you don’t even make a sound. Some whore you are.” You purse your lips and muster a whine, but it’s interrupted when he pistons his cock inside you without warning. Your sounds are hoarse as he pounds into you from the back, hands kneading your ass to the shape of his hands. He gives it a spank as he moans loudly; the new position makes it feel so much more intense, and Jungkook loves it. His ears finally get to hear your pathetic mewls as he thrusts so deeply inside you that your vision blurs with tears and your eyes roll to the back of your skull. You feel like a doll that can’t speak or move, and he’s evidently enjoying it going by his rushed pace. You’re challenging him with your silence, and he loves proving himself.

All of a sudden however, he stops moving. You look behind you with a pout and he quirks a brow at you. You grit your teeth because you know he's waiting for you to tell him to continue, or rather daring you to do something. A sudden surge of confidence overcomes you and you gently slam your hips against his, fucking yourself on his cock with your eyes screwed shut.

“Yes, baby,” he strains, “show me that you're still my good girl.” At his encouragement, you meet his thrusts faster and you're seeing stars at how amazing it feels. You want to be his good girl so bad, and you arch your back to savour the pleasure. “Your pussy is mine, all mine,” he affirms to himself and stills your hips to turn you around without removing his length. His fingers are digging into your flesh and your tits bounce under the fabric as he rams into you restlessly. Your mouth is open in a silent scream and he can barely make out your pupils, the whites of your eyes stirring his climax at how attractive you look under the poor lighting. “I love you so fucking much,” he cries, “say it back, baby.”

You try to, but you can only dryly cough. “You fucking bitch,” he hisses at your defiance and pulls out of you to pump his length. He’s close to his release, and he pushes up your sweater to see your hard nipples that make him salivate. He crawls to slide his cock between the valley of your breasts and it hurts when he harshly pushes them together. “Stick out your tongue,” he commands in a whisper, and you do so while panting like a dog. Every time he thrusts upwards, the tip of his head grazes your tongue and leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. He’s massaging your tits as he stutters between whines, and eventually his load spurts out to land on your chest and cheek with a particularly loud groan. His cum surges down his shaft as he rides out his high with the last slow thrusts. 

“Oh fuck,” he sighs airily and collapses next to you in the tiny space available. You clumsily turn on your side to give him more room and he pecks your swollen lips. He zips his pants back up and you’re still naked from the waist down. You’re staring at each other adoringly in the romantic, fragile atmosphere; another first.

“I love you,” you croak finally. It’s quieter than a whisper, and it makes you cringe at how hideous you sound; it’s painful as well.

His face lights up once he registers your words before noticing the tone. “What happened to your voice?”

“Sick.” You can’t bring yourself to say anything more as you snuggle into his side and he instinctively wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Shit,” he murmurs, “why didn’t you tell me that sooner, idiot?”

You slap a hand on his front pocket where his phone is, and he hastily takes it out to see a bunch of notifications from you. “You sent it at night, you’re still the idiot.” You giggle and roll your eyes. “A promise is a promise, though,” he purrs before cupping your bare heat. “I did say I would fuck you all night.” You widen your eyes when his head lowers down to face your sopping wet cunt, and he slowly licks up a stripe over your soaked folds, making you shudder and grip his hair. He’s leaving kitty licks all over your sensitivity, the tip of his tongue lightly brushing against your clit every now and then. Your hips lift involuntarily, and he finally takes your clit in his mouth and sucks on it loudly. He slurps your arousal before spitting it back on your hood, and you can only squeak in response. Your hazed mind only tells you that you want more, and he doesn’t fail to provide.

Two fingers enter your clenching hole, and he’s scissoring your walls as he messily eats you out. The pleasure from earlier returns all too soon and you know you won’t be able to last long. His lids are hooded when you glance down at him and the way he’s looking at you makes it even harder to resist your orgasm. The knot in your stomach picks back up right before unraveling and your moan is raspy as you start twitching under his relentless mouth. He grows gentle and leaves kisses all over your vulva until your body falls limp on the sheets.

After another round of penetrative sex, the two of you fall asleep from exhaustion in your bed. It’s a first for the both of you, and Jungkook decides in his drunken mind that tonight won’t be the last. It feels so intimate when he cuddles you, and you won’t ever forget his love confession.

The next morning is not so pleasant however, as Jungkook wakes up with a loud sneeze and in his now nasal voice says, “God fucking damn it.”

[sunshineandaisies]

What’s in the Box, Peter?

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader 

Words: ~1.7k

Warnings: fluff, mentions of pregnancy

Note: Happy Mother’s Day to all the baby mommas, the fur mommas, the plant mommas, and all the momma’s in between! 

Ever since you started dating Peter during your freshman year of college, you always spent Mother’s Day with him and May. 

Of course, you always had the customary FaceTime call with your own mother but with the prices of plane tickets constantly increasing, going home to spend the day with your family just wasn’t possible when all your money went towards rent and school expenses. 

So spending the day with Peter and May became tradition, and quite frankly, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

May Parker had practically inducted you into the family after only a few months of dating her nephew, and she was the very definition of what you thought motherhood was all about. She was understanding whenever Peter found himself in trouble - whether it be as Peter Parker or his masked superhero alter ego - and she was always willing to lend an ear whenever you or Peter needed to rant about something (even if it was about each other). She worried about Peter - of course she did - but she let him have his space to make his own mistakes and learn from them. 

She may not have been Peter’s actual mother, but damn did that woman deserve the best Mother’s Day that you and Peter could muster.

You’d stayed at May’s apartment the night before rather than at yours and Peter’s apartment on the other side of the city to save yourself the commute in the morning, and you were infinitely glad that you’d done so. An extra hour of sleep was definitely worth you and Peter squeezing into the small bed in his old bedroom. 

Peter still woke up early, though.

He always did, unable to really sleep in the days leading up to Mother’s Day. He grew restless and quiet, and you didn’t need to ask to know why. 

He pressed his lips to your cheek before he left for his visit to his mother’s grave that morning, his jacket tugged on to protect himself from the early morning chill and a bouquet of flowers in his hand. He whispered a promise of coffee when he returned, and your appreciation for him doubled in an instant.

By the time he returned, you were busy making pancakes and humming along to the song on the radio while May tittered around the kitchen despite your insistence that she let you take care of making breakfast.

It was her day, after all.

“Good morning,” Peter greeted, pressing a styrofoam cup into your hand. He pressed his lips to your temple before greeting May with a hug and wishing her a happy Mother’s Day. He set a small, wrapped box down on the counter, making you cock your head in curiosity.

“What’s that?” you asked, pointing at the box in question with the spatula. You were sure that you had already gotten May a Mother’s Day gift. In fact, you had wrapped her gift yourself the night before. Had you forgotten something? 

“Just a Mother’s Day gift,” he replied vaguely, a smile curling his lips. “You’ll see after breakfast.”

Your gaze kept flitting back to that mysterious little box as you finished stacking pancakes onto a large plate, as you filled three glasses of juice and set the table, and as you and Peter caught May up on all of things that you had accomplished over the course of the last semester. You were just barely managing to contain your curiosity enough to actively keep up the conversation and not be rude, and Peter wasn’t helping any. 

The way that he seemed extra fidgety and the way that his gaze kept flitting to you more than usual while he talked to May about his plans once you were both finally done with grad school had you wondering if you did something wrong or even worse- if he was planning something that you didn’t know about.

Oh, God. Was he going to propose?

Outwardly, you were smiling brightly and nodding in agreement to what Peter was saying about your plans for the summer, but inwardly, you were panicking.

You loved Peter, you really did, and you’d be happy to marry him. Just not now. You’d had the discussion about marriage over a year ago, knowing that you both wanted it at some point, but you and he had both agreed that marriage was off the table until you were both done with school. You both had at least one year of grad school left, and that was only if you - ever the academic - decided to not continue your education with further certification. A proposal was at least a year away, so long as Peter adhered to the agreement you had made nearly two years ago.

You cleared the table with lightning speed once everyone had finished with their breakfast, wanting nothing more than to know what Peter was hiding. You retrieved May’s gift from Peter’s bedroom and placed it in front of her while Peter held onto the small mystery box, his fingers flexing and unflexing nervously. 

Jesus Christ, you were about to implode from impatience and anxiety and-

“This is so cute!” May exclaimed, holding up the small succulent in a pot shaped like a dinosaur. “Did you find this at that shop on 47th?”

“I think so?” Peter looked to you for confirmation, but you only shrugged in response. “Y/N picked out most of the stuff in there. She has a better eye for things than I do.”

“Peter did pick out the wine, though,” you pointed out, nodding towards the fancy bottle of white wine that had cost more than your electrical bill last month. “I will, however, take credit for the plant and the memory foam slippers.”

You shared a small smile with Peter as May looked over her gifts happily. “This is so sweet. Thank you.” She leaned across the table and pulled your both into as tight a hug as she could manage with a table in the way.

“Happy Mother’s Day, May,” Peter told her, and the few happy tears she swiftly brushed away with her thumbs didn’t escape your attention.

“Happy Mother’s Day, May,” you repeated, feeling so incredibly grateful to have May in your life. “You literally deserve the best Mother’s Day for putting up with this guy for most of his life.” You gently nudged Peter in the side with your elbow as you teased, chuckling as he rolled his eyes at you while struggling to fight back an amused smile.

“Whatever,” he scoffed, and it only made you and May laugh harder. “You both love me.”

And suddenly your laughter died as your attention was dragged back to that mysterious little box, now pushed in front of you by Peter. “What’s this?”

“It’s for you,” he answered as if it wasn’t already blatantly obvious.

“I get that, but why?” You observed the small gift nervously. “It’s Mother’s Day, Pete, and I’m very much not a mother. Not unless you count being a plant mother. You didn’t need to get me anything.”

“What?” His face twisted in confusion, brows knit together and lips slightly parted. “You don’t know? I thought you knew.”

What the hell? Your brows knit together as you looked from Peter to May, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. “Know what? I think I would know if I was a mom, Peter.” You let out a breath and started to pull at the wrapping paper. “I mean, thank you for the gift, but this was really unneces-” Your words died on the tip of your tongue as you saw what was tucked neatly into the small box.

You lifted the mug from the box, staring at the words written across the front in pretty pink script. 

‘Happy (Expectant) Mother’s Day’

You blinked, too confused to speak.

“I thought you said she knew,” you heard May whisper to Peter.

“I thought she did!” your boyfriend whispered in return. “I thought she was waiting for today to tell me!”

You finally snapped out of your trance, placing the mug down on the table and turning to Peter. “Can you please explain what’s happening?”

After a beat of silence, he answered, “You’re pregnant.”

You snorted in disbelief. “I think I’d know if I was pregnant, Peter.” You took a second to mentally count the days, and your heart began to beat erratically once you realized you had been so busy with final papers and projects to remember when your last period had been. Well, shit.

“You are,” he said confidently. He draped an arm around the back of your chair before taking your hand in his. “Some nights, when it’s really quiet, I can hear the baby’s heartbeat. Scared the hell out of me when I first heard it.” Instinctively, your hands dropped to your stomach, cradling it tenderly. Leave it to your boyfriend to find out you were pregnant before you did thanks to his hyper-senses. “I thought you knew and you were planning to tell me today, you know, because it’s Mother’s Day.” He scratched the back of his neck and laughed nervously, his gaze flitting to May before he met your eyes again. “I, uh, realize now that you didn’t know.”

“We’re gonna have a baby?” He nodded, lips curling into a smile. “I’m gonna be a mom?” Another nod. “I thought you were gonna propose! I was so nervous!”

“I mean, I can still do that if you want,” he offered, a mischievous twinkle in his chocolate eyes.

“No!” you exclaimed. “I think one big life change is enough for today.”

You shared a soft, sweet kiss with Peter before turning your attention back to the mug on the table. Your fingers curled around it, holding it gently in your hands as you stared at the words again and a smile tugged at your lips.

A gentle hand on yours called your attention away from the mug and to May. The older woman was smiling widely at you and her nephew, i she’d tears glittering in her eyes. “Happy Mother’s Day, Y/N.”

[watchmegetobsessed]

Never Have I Ever - Harry Styles (part 4)

i hope yall enjoyed the last part, we took a sudden and quite dirty turn ther,e but we are heading down romantic street and its all sweet and cute with a little hotness. let me know what you thought about the part!

pairing: Harry x actress!reader

word count: 4.7k

SERIES MASTERPOST

masterlist

Harry Styles managed to leave quite the impression in you following his late night visit after the Emmys. He surely surprised you with not only the unbelievable orgasm he gave you with his talented fingers, but also with how big of a gentleman he really was, so keen on taking you out on a date first before he would kiss you. The timeline got a little messed up and he did apologize before he left at two in the morning for getting too carried away, but you assured him he didn’t do anything you didn’t want him to. To be honest, you wouldn’t have had a word against him kissing you right away, but you liked the respect he had for you, not something you’ve had plenty of lately. The men you dealt with in the past year were eager to get into your pants without the respect part, only hungry to earn fame through you, trying to blind you with sex so you wouldn’t realize their ugly motives.

This was not a threat when it came to Harry, he was just as famous as you, maybe even more. He had his own career, his own money, his own life apart from yours and he clearly wasn’t trying to use you and it was quite a refreshing change for you.

He stayed and the two of you talked so much, just sharing crazy stories from your life before and after fame, enjoying that you had someone who shared more or less the same background as you. Apart from Florence, you pretty much kept your old friends when your career took off, afraid to make new ones, always feeling a little paranoid that new people would have unholy motives when they try to befriend you.

Though you truly love your friends, they don’t really see behind the life you are living, while Harry completely does. His company is the best you’ve had in a long time, he is able to make you completely forget about everything outside the room you two are in.

You tried your best to hide your disappointment when he left that night. After offering him to stay in one of your guest bedrooms, he politely turned it down, and even though you could tell he wanted to stay, the urge to be a gentleman was greater in him, something you admire him for.

He left with the promise to see you soon on a real date and he got you as excited as a little school girl on the day of a fieldtrip.

However, given the lifestyles you two were living, finding a suitable evening for the both of you turns out to be a bigger struggle than you expected. Harry reaches out right the next day after his little visit. A good morning text waits for you by the time you open your eyes in the noon and by the evening he asks you out, however you have to realize the date has to wait a little.

You have two trip outside the city upcoming in the next two weeks and he is also planning to fly back to London for a while, the trips totally crashing in the timeline, not even having just the smallest window that would fit the both of you.

Accepting the fact that it would have to wait a little longer, you keep in close touch, eager to find the date that would finally be suitable for you and him as well. Endless texts, sweet calls and sneaky FaceTimes scatter through the days you spend apart and you find it hard to think of a time when he wasn’t hitting you up all the time.

On a Thursday evening, after a long day of fittings for upcoming events, you find yourself sitting on your couch with a sweet glass of wine, scrolling through your social media feeds when something catches your eyes.

Harry has been away in Los Angeles in the past few days and he mentioned having an interview the other day, but you didn’t think it would be out so soon, but here it was, a short video clip cut out by some random page that had a rather interesting title.

“Harry Styles talks about next album and mystery girl in his life.”

Your curiosity is way too strong not to click on it and have a look at it, so taking a sip from your wine you tap on the link and let the video load.

“It’s been some time since your last album came out, have you been working on new music lately?” the interviewer asked from behind the camera as Harry sat on a lilac sofa, wearing black high-waisted pants with a pink and white floral printed shirt tugged into it, his suspenders topping the look perfectly. His green eyes are fixed on the person asking him as he nods.

“Yeah, I think I never really stop making new music. I do have sessions when I’m trying to put a new album together, but I also write in the meantime as well, whenever I have an idea or inspiration. I don’t hold back,” he adds with a cheeky smile.

“Have you found any inspiration lately?” the question is heard and Harry nods once again.

“I have, actually,” he answers shortly, but his smirk gives it away that there’s a lot more behind his words and you feel your heart flutter in your chest. Is he talking about you?

“Has it been a person?” the reporter inquires, making Harry’s smile grow wider.

“A lot of things and people inspire me.”

“Alright, and is your latest inspiration something or someone new in your life?” the guy tries again, even though it’s well known that Harry likes to give vague answers instead of straight yeses and nos.

“Kind of new,” he simply answers and the reporter realizes he won’t be sharing more about the topic so he moves on with the next question and the video cuts out right there.

Though it wasn’t mentioned that he was talking about someone in particular, his fans drew the assumption that he is definitely seeing someone who has been his inspiration behind his new music. Feeling bold and a little flirty, you open up your messages and send him a quick text.

“A kind of new inspiration, huh?”

His reply comes almost right away, as always.

“Have you been stalking fanpages about me?”

“Would it be weird?”

“From you? It’s flattering. Little scary, but in a good way.”

You can’t help but chuckle reading his words. He never fails to make you laugh, you find his humor your favorite kind, never hurtful, but a little spicy, if you could say that, a lot of irony laced into it.

“Back to the topic: what’s your inspiration? Or should I ask… who is your inspiration?”

“Not gonna beat around the bush and just admit it…”

You wait and wait… and wait, but nothing comes afterwards and you are dying to have him admit that it’s been you, but not even the three dots appear at the bottom, so you take the lead again.

“Well, do it. Admit it, Styles!”

The fucker likes your message right away, meaning he has been in the thread all along, waiting for you to write something.

“Alright, but don’t tell anyone, because she is kinda famous and I don’t want the media to find out about it.”

“You have my silence.”

You watch the three dots dance at the bottom, holding your breath while you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, trying to contain your wide grin that’s been plastered across your face this whole time.

When the text finally arrives you snort loudly, almost spilling your wine, laughing so hard you are happy you don’t like in a tiny apartment anymore with paper walls, because your neighbor would have definitely heard your laughter all the way down the hallway.

“It’s Betty White. Fuck, she is all I can think about.”

You need a minute to stop the laughter and type your reply.

“She is hot, gotta give you that.”

“Right?? I hope she is not afraid to date younger guys though.”

“I’m sure she would make an exception for you.”

“I hope so too.”

There’s a short pause, where you just read back his lines, chuckling to yourself some more. He always has a witty comment or comeback, no matter what you’re talking about and not once has he made you laugh madly on a set, at a meeting or just lying in bed before going to sleep.

“Joke aside, would it scare you away if I said I have definitely written about you?”

“Is this another theoretical question? Like the one you asked me on Ellen?”

You smile to yourself thinking back at the conversation the two of you had on the show when he was trying to figure out if you’d be up to give him your number.

“Maybe. So theoretically, would that be weird to you?”

“No,” you write, but quickly send another text. “But you know, it’s just theory. You’d have to tell me for real to find out.”

“Should have saw that coming…”

“Yeah, you really should have,” you muse to yourself, finishing up your glass and you carefully put it to your coffee table before sliding further down on the couch to get back to the conversation with Harry. You see that he hasn’t sent anything after his last one, so you decide to actually answer his question.

“Joke aside from my part, I wouldn’t find it weird. I think it’s flattering.”

“Okay, because I was ready to burn all my notes if you said it would be too much.”

“What if you’d be burning a Grammy worthy song though?”

“Would be a shame. But I would still burn it for you.”

“You are such a flirt…”

“Can’t help it! Or should I not be?”

“I like it. So don’t change.”

“Noted.”

Your little conversation has to come to an end since he is about to go into a meeting, but when you say your goodbyes and decide it’s time to head to bed, you already know a text will be waiting for you when you wake up in the morning.

Days and even weeks go by and you start to have a little too much on your plate. No matter how much you love your job and that it has always been your dream, sometimes you just need a breather. In the past week you’ve been in and out of auditions for a movie they keep top secret, you didn’t even get a script, just a few pages you had to memorize and they’ve been asking for more and more tapes from you with kind of absurd requests, but your agent told you it’s something major, that’s why they are so secretive. However, when they ask you to come in for another reading for the fifth time in seven days and you still don’t know what you are really auditioning for, you are kind of starting to have enough with all your other projects running at the same time. Your days start at six in the morning and rarely end before eleven in the night.

An entire month after the night Harry came over to your place, you kind of lose patience. The frustration that’s been building up inside you just simply bursts when your agent texts you on your way home that you’d have to go in for another casting in the morning for the same mystery movie.

“Have they not seen my face enough?” you snap, hands meeting the wheel as you keep your eyes on the road ahead of you.

“I’m sorry, Hun. I know it’s annoying, but they requested you, that means you are still an option for them.” Mona’s voice comes through the speakers of the car since your phone is connected to it.

“Do they need me to read the whole fucking Bible in front of a camera or what?” you growl.

“I have a good feeling about this last one, alright? And if they still can’t decide after that, we can always just say that we want out.”

“Then I would be labelled as the problematic little princess,” you sigh, knowing well how this industry works. Just one mistake and you can easily end up in a theoretical ditch.

“Just hold on a little longer, okay? I’ll send you the details in email and we’ll talk more tomorrow.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Bye, girl.”

Mona is an angel. She’s been your agent for about five years now, she is the one who gets you into castings, well, at least that’s what she was doing before you managed to reach your breakthrough. She got your name on lists you couldn’t even dare to dream of and she is the reason why you are here today. Now she mostly handles requests for you to go in for castings, creators started to reach out to you a while ago, though Mona still works her magic sometimes to get you into castings that are still out of your league.

By the time you get home, you are desperate to do something. Anything. You’ve been nonstop working these past weeks and you just need to get out of this loop that sucked you in. Before you could even think through what you’re doing, you dial Harry’s number.

He is back in the city, that you know of because he texted even before he got home. You both ditched the idea of having your date today, because you just knew it would be a long day for you, and it’s the truth, it’s past ten, so not quite ideal for a date, but you ran out of fucks to give.

“Y/N? Everything alright?” he asks, noticing that you called, which is not what you usually do, or at least not without checking in if he is free to talk.

“Yeah, sorry I called so randomly. Are you busy?” you ask, feeling a little out of breath, even though you definitely didn’t do anything physically hard. You just can’t help but feel anxious since you are about to ask him out on a spontaneous date.

“No, just�� packing and all that. What’s up?”

“So you don’t have anything to do right now?” you clear up.

“No,” he chuckles.

“Alright, so then… what do you say we have that date now?”

Even with him always being so blunt and open about how interested he is in you, it still makes you perfect to ask him out. The silence that comes from his side doesn’t necessarily help either and you are already preparing yourself to get rejected.

“You know it’s ten pm, right?” he then asks, a little unsure if you really thought it through.

“I am aware, yes.”

“Don’t you have work in the morning? I know you always start your days so early, I don’t want to be the reason why yo—“

“Harry,” you stop him midsentence. “I do not give a fuck about what I’m doing in the morning,” you bluntly tell him and you can tell he is smiling on the other end of the call. “So the question is still the same. Do you want to have that date now?”

He doesn’t ask anything else, just simply say the following: “I’ll pick you up in thirty.”

“Make it twenty,” you tell him and end the call before he could protest.

Ignoring the adrenaline rush you that just washed over your body you quickly make your way to the bathroom to take the quickest cold shower before putting on some clean clothes. You really don’t want to overdo it, knowing well since it’s so abrupt he wouldn’t be taking you anywhere that would require you look spotless. You choose not to put on any makeup, not just because you don’t have the time, but also because you feel a weird urge to just be bare, be yourself around him. The same goes for your outfit. You put aside all designer clothes and opt for a simple pair of jeans, a black tank top and a bright yellow knitted jumper over it, looking awfully casual, but feeling rather comfortable.

It takes Harry 22 minutes to get to your place, but you choose not to comment on those two extra minutes when you get into his car. Luckily, he isn’t dressed to impress either, wearing a simple pair of jeans with some kind of washed out, vintage printed tee shirt with his Bode Jacket he has worn in his famous SNL episode. His hair looks a little mess and even wet, making you wonder if your call caught him in the middle of a shower or he showered after you agreed to meet up.

“Long time no see,” he smiles at you, his boyish smirk making your heart flutter so easily as he eyes you while you buckle yourself up.

“You had plenty of paparazzi photos to look at in the meantime, Mr. Styles,” you smirk at him teasingly as he starts the car and leaves from in front of your complex.

“My favorite was the ones of you where you were walking out of a restaurant wearing that silk dress and the coat.”

“So you did see pap pictures?” you ask chuckling, you didn’t mean it entirely, but you find it funny that he actually saw pictures of you.

“You know, it’s been hard to avoid you online, especially because I keep liking all your posts so my phone thinks I’m interested in you. Which is true, and I’m not complaining about the content I’ve been seeing about you lately,” he admits chuckling and your eyes wander down to his ring clad fingers on the wheel. Your thoughts take you back to when they were touching you at places you haven’t been touched in a while. How they felt inside you and how desperate he could make you with just his hands.

You force yourself to look away from his hands and focus on the present time before your arousal becomes way too evident.

“Sorry I’m everywhere,” you smirk at him, enjoying the situation maybe a little too much.

“Don’t be,” he chuckles, glancing in your way for a moment, his green eyes meeting your gaze. “I don’t mind it,” he adds and those damn butterflies as quick to act up again in your stomach.

You don’t try to get him to tell where you are headed, wanting it to be a surprise yourself, so you just stare out at the night city as it runs past you, still quite a lot of people walking on the streets even though it’s now nearing eleven.

What you know is that you’re still in Manhattan and it seems like you won’t leave it either. Harry navigates his way through the city easily, he is not even using GPS, something you could never do. No matter how long you’ve been living here, you’ll always get lost in this jungle some call New York City. About fifteen minutes after leaving your complex, Harry parks the car down in a spot he found along the road, and looking out the window you’re trying to figure out where you are, but it doesn’t ring a bell. Seems just like a usual part of the Upper West Side, so now he has you curious about his plans.

“Where did you bring me, Mr. Styles?” you ask him as the two of you meet on the sidewalk and he glances at your with a sly smirk.

“Since you gave me such a short notice about our date, I thought I would show you one of my favorite places in the city and I hope you haven’t it.” “Well, I can assure you I don’t know it, because I have no idea what could be here,” you admit.

Harry nods at you to follow him and you walk side by side until the next corner.

“I think you already know that I’m English,” he starts off, making you chuckle.

“Yeah, it’s pretty evident,” you nod.

“So, in the past decade I haven’t spent as much time in the UK as I wanted, and a few years ago I discovered a little piece of my home in the city.”

Trying to figure out what he meant by that you don’t even realize where you just took a turn to. Harry stops and you snap out of your thoughts, looking up and seeing a charming little street ahead you, looking totally out of place in the city’s fashion. The townhouses all the way down look like they’ve been placed here straight from England, the Tudor style complex is a refreshing change in the fast paced, busy streets of Manhattan.

You can’t help but gasp at the sight in front of you, taking in every tiny detail with your eager eyes as the feeling of being in a fairytale takes over your mind. If only it weren’t for the busy noises of the streets around the micro-neighborhood, you would completely believe that you’ve been magically teleported to England.

“It’s called the Pomander Walk. Always makes me feel like I’m home away from home whenever I miss my family and my hometown.”

Harry starts walking down the narrow pavement that runs between the houses, lined with quite some greenery, something you noticed right away. There are just so many plants and flowers down the street, it’s pretty clear the residents keep them in good care.

You catch up with Harry, eyes still taking in the pleasant contrast Pomander Walk has to offer for any visitors.

“I feel like we are invaders,” you tell him. It looks so secluded, makes you feel like you weren’t even supposed to be here.

“Don’t worry, it’s totally public. The people who live here are pretty nice too. Love it when someone comes around.”

“How did you find this place?”

“A friend told me about it and just came to see it for myself one day,” he tells you as the two of you slowly make your way down the street, slow enough so you could see everything. “There are 61 units and they were built in 1921 by Thomas J. Healy. He originally wanted to build a hotel here, but didn’t have the money to just yet, so he built these instead to make some cash for the hotel. He never got to do that though, died a few years later, so Pomander Walk stayed.” You listen to him, soaking in every word that leaves his lips, finding his oddly specific knowledge about this place quite exciting and… kinda hot. You could listen to him talk about historical facts for days without getting bored.

“The whole complex was renovated in 2009, they restored a bunch of architectural details that lost through the years.”

“Looks fantastic. I wonder what they look like on the inside,” you muse, your eyes wandering over the colorfully painted old school window blinds on most of the townhouses.

Walking down the pavement you realize there’s not a single soul around here, something you don’t get to experience too often in the city.

“It’s not too well-known, right? I don’t see any tourists and all that.”

Harry shakes his head, eyes ahead of him as he hides his hands in his pockets.

“No, ‘s quite hidden, not often listed in sights to be seen in the city. That’s why I like to come here so much.”

“Easy to stay unnoticed,” you add with a smile as your eyes meet his gaze and he nods, returning the smile.

You walk back and forth on the street at least five times, just talking and sharing and laughing, finally falling out of the misery of your everydays. He still amazes you with how good of a company he is, with his broad view of life and many experiences, you can truly connect with him on a level you haven’t been able to reach with anyone in a long time.

It’s way over midnight when you head back to his car, holding hands that happened at a point earlier, but you can’t tell who reached for who. It was kind of mutual, but now you didn’t want to let go of him… ever. You let your fingers play with his S ring on his pinky while he keeps running his thumb over the back of your hand whenever he has the chance. It’s a little disappointing when you have to let go of each other when you climb back into his car and head back home.

“I know this date wasn’t much, but I hope you liked it,” he smiles at you shyly before his eyes snap back at the road ahead of him.

“Shut up, this was literally the best date I’ve had,” you tell him making him chuckle. “Thank you for showing it to me.”

“Now it’s your secret place too. Maybe we’ll run into each other here one day.”

“I’ll definitely come back,” you admit smirking.

The city lights pass by you faster than you want them to, and you arrive to your complex way too early. Well, not according to the time, because it’s way past half past midnight now, but you just don’t want the night to end. However, you know Harry would not come up if you asked. He is way too big of a gentleman and he wouldn’t want to make you miss your appointment in the morning, but you are definitely collecting that kiss he promised a month or so ago.

“Walk me up, will you?” you ask him softly when he parks down in front of your building. He nods and follows you inside without a second thought.

You both know it’s about to happen, the air thickens between you two in the elevator and neither of you can hold back the small smiles on your lips. Harry walks next to you until you reach your front door and you turn to face him, his green eyes already examining your every move.

“I’m happy we finally got to do this,” you tell him, feeling a blush warming your cheeks from the way he looks at you now.

“I’m glad you called. Was starting to think we would never meet again,” he chuckles making you laugh as well. It really did feel like the universe was plotting against you, but you bet it didn’t expect your sudden move tonight.

There’s a longer pause where neither of you knows what to say or do next and your patience is running low, especially when you see him run his tongue over his pink lips. You just can’t wait any longer to taste them.

“Harry,” you breathe out, the frustration and desire at an all-time high now in your system. Never in your life did it take this long for you to get to a kiss with a guy you were clearly interested in and who returned the feeling as well.

“Yeah?”

“Swear to my lost Emmy Award if you don’t kiss me right now I’ll—“

You don’t get to finish, you don’t even know what you’d have said, but it’s all forgotten when Harry kisses you hard, hands cupping your jaw on both sides, angling your head to grant him the best access to your lips. You return the kiss without a second thought, hungrily tugging and pulling on his lips, your tongues meeting in the middle and fuck! He really knows how to make your toes curl with just a kiss. You grab a fistful of his t-shirt at his stomach, pulling him close and the cold touch of his rings on your skin makes you shudder. Everything about him makes your legs turn into jelly and you are willingly offering yourself to him without a doubt.

He pushes you against your front door, one of his hands wanders down to your waist and he gives it a gentle squeeze that makes you open your mouth more for him. You are a mess and so is he. You have no idea how long you make out, but when you eventually pull back, your chest is heaving and your lips feel swollen. Harry pecks your lips two more times before forcing himself to let go of you.

“Good night, Y/N,” he murmurs in a low voice as he starts to back towards the elevator.

“Good night, Harry,” you say a little out of breath. He smirks at you one last time before walking into the elevator and the doors close, officially ending your first date.

 PREVIOUS PART

NEXT PART

[dimples-of-discontent]

Oh anons flooding my inbox to tell me that I’m a conspiracy theorist for thinking there’s more to this finale than meets the eye and/or that it’s totally the writers’ fault, you have no idea how much I do not care! I’m tagging anything related as “finale theories” and you should feel free to blacklist it using whatever method you so choose. I’m staying away, until the dust settles, from drawing any conclusions about what exactly happened to the script (either to make it what it was pre-covid or post-covid) or what cut scenes might have contained, or who was at fault for how it all turned out.

To the anons who think I’m reading too much into Jensen and Misha’s relative “silence” on the finale, I have some comments. With Misha it’s harder to tell, but I am completely convinced that Jensen is deliberately not engaging with finale-related content because he’s so alienated, angry, and disappointed. I think Misha is finding ways to talk about it that he thinks will support the fandom, rather than the network, and frankly he is far more used to having to deal with the feeling of being screwed by the network but still loving the fans. But Jensen really trusted them and they did him really dirty.

Leaving aside the fact that neither Jensen nor Misha was in the CW “thank you” video--which is LOUD AF of them--let’s look at the social media angle. We already know that Jensen wasn’t happy with the finale as it was written (which likely included Dean dying and, yes, that was probably his biggest beef, but I’ll bet he had some words about Misha’s character too) and talked to several people about it. He was then told to accept it and make his peace and he did that and did the best he could. Now, since November 5th we’ve heard very little from him and definitely not in the ways you would expect to hear from the star of a long-running show like SPN.

He’s been much more forthcoming about how proud he was of the scene he shot with Misha in “Despair.” Jensen and Misha both posted about 15x18 and Jensen happily talked about it on a livestream. It meant so much to him personally (as the last scene they’d film together, or as a momentous moment in the show, or as something else) that he had someone film it on his phone just for him and admitted breaking character. They talked it through beforehand a lot. They talked about it after a lot and texted each other fan reaction videos. They were glad to be able to do something that meant so much to us and that brought the story to this point.

Over on Twitter, Misha seems pretty much his same self, using the proper hashtag (which in the old days of Twitter he used to mock Jensen for not knowing how to do) and RTing nostalgic comments from Kripke, Jim Michaels, etc. His personal tweets just tagged Jensen and Jared. The set pics he shared were from 15x18. Jensen just gave Entertainment Weekly a RT for the finale. He’s pretty much full-time on Instagram, but that’s still pretty little engagement. He liked two tweets, both on 11/5 when 15x18 was airing, by Misha and Bobo Berens, but zero tweets related to the finale. (Jared tweeted during the finale a few times and then sent some comfort to the fans. FWIW he also didn’t RT or tag any network folks. I think he’s probably less happy than he seems, but he’s a company boy doing a new show with them so his hands are tied.)

Over on Instagram, on the day of the finale Misha was busy. He posted a pic of Maise “Spon on-set props assistant” in a trench coat robe. Jensen liked that. He also posted a video recapping and asking people to tune into the finale. Jensen did not like that. THEN he posted a pic of him and Jensen filming 15x18. Jensen liked that. Pic of Misha and the kids about to watch SPN? Jensen likes it. Pic of Misha crying during the finale and saying how much he’s going to miss Sam and Dean that actually tags Jensen? Jensen does not like it. The gist? Jensen “likes” all Misha’s posts from that day except the two related to the content of the finale (rather than watching it with West and Maison...and besides, soft boy Jensen isn’t going to not��like a pic of West and Maison!).

And here’s Jensen’s account. On November 3rd, Jensen posts to thank TV Guide. On the 19th he posts to thank Entertainment Weekly. On the day of the finale, he posts a pic of Dean’s boots and a video of him getting dressed as Dean “for the last time - for now.” (I think that was a clumsy attempt not to spoil anything but I will also hold onto the idea that maybe he will do his own version of a sequel. The day after the finale he posts a slightly salty photo of the piece of rebar (aka “the rusty nail”) that killed Dean captioned “Excuse me....uh, ‘set dec’!!! Can we get this removed please?!?!” and uses the hashtag “spnfamilyforever.” That’s the hashtag for us--for the fans--rather than anything official. Those posts were both for us too, showing him loving Dean and loving being Dean and being just as pissed as us about his death. (For the record, Jared posted a pic of him watching the finale, also hashtagging the spnfamily, and Jensen liked it.)

All the people that he’s not thanking reads very loudly. Contrast to all the thanks he (and everyone else) were throwing like roses at the 300th episode party. Jensen is a generous guy. He’s professional, everyone likes him, and he likes to credit everyone for their accomplishments. For him to be this silent and not write a single caption thanking ANYONE aside from TV Guide and Entertainment Weekly (who he needs to keep on his good side for his own production company)? IS SO OUT OF CHARACTER!!! Every con, every interview, he talks about how they couldn’t do what they do without the help of all these other people along the way. To not have it in him to thank those people? He must be hurting so incredibly badly.

He cares about us so he’ll do what he can for the SPN family. But it won’t surprise me if the clusterfuck of an ending alienated him so much that we don’t get things we might otherwise (more panels, for example, or cons) because he is just done working with the people who hurt him. I’m glad he was smiling in that most recent livestream because he sure doesn’t seem happy right now.

[extravaguk]

sweets&ink

part of my opposites attract! series. 

ksj / knj / myg / jhs / pjm / kth 

pairing: tattooartist&tattoed!jungkook x baker!reader

summary: jungkook was everything you feared but exactly what you needed to heal your broken heart.

wordcount: 5k

genre: fluff - angst - smut (s2l!au)

rated: m (?

warnings: some cursing, mentions of past abusive/toxic relationships/trauma that might be triggering, a lil of making love at the end. it’s overall just suuper fluffy, trust me. jungkook is a s i m p. we love that for him! slow burrrnnnn.  

Jungkook knows it was love at first sight, but doesn's know how to really explain it.

He knew from the moment he entered the small shop, pastel green walls welcoming him  replete of sugary treats, a sweet and heavenly scent engulfing him as soon as he stepped a foot inside.  With a new found sense of calmness and serenity within he hadn't experienced in a long time, he searched for deserts of his liking, mouth watering while assessing the many options of baked goods available and bright colored frostings stealing his attention.

"Hi. How may I help you?"

Then he looked up and found you. It wasn't easy to appreciate your whole appearence with the counter hiding the lower half of your body, but it was enough for Jungkook to think to himself that he had never seen a prettier girl in hiis entire life. And that's when he knew it. Any type of movement in his surroundings coming to a halt, his heart skipping a beat, his favourite song playing inside his head. And that particular sensation. The same one that had made him feel so at ease since he found your bakery. For a moment he thought his doe eyes might have actually turned into heart eyes until you raised your eyebrows, a concerned expression replacing your previous warm smile. 

Blinking his eyes and clearing his throat, coming down from cloud nine into the real world, he stuttered his order as best as he coud manage, heart pounding inside his chest and later feeling mortified for not being able to pronounce "gingernap cookies" correctly. 

At first he kind of hated Seokjin for blackmailing him into going to his favourite bakery to buy his favourite cookies (Jungkook really should've known better than accidentally spill ink all over Jin's new script), but when he comes back home with a goofy smile on his face and dreams of your face, he makes sure to text him he'll go get his cookies anytime he wants.

But Jungkook is a masochist apparently. 

Because a week after your first encounter he realizes that not being able to get his mind off a girl he's literally only seen once in his entire life is not exactly normal. Not for anyone, but especially not for him. Realizes that the way he embarrassed himself in front of you and probably looked like a bluberring mess (or a creepy weirdo who had never interacted with any woman before) is not reason enough to not keep wanting to try again. And the way you just giggled at him and simply shook your head as you wrapped the ginger cookies he had asked for in a pretty packaging has kept him aching for more. 

So he comes once a week now. Still as nervous as the first day, but content to see that your face seems to light up at the sight of him stepping through the door the same way his does. He likes to see you in your cute pastel dresses, and if he didn't know better he'd think you were just trying to keep up with the bakery's aesthetic. But the more he frequents your shop, the more he realizes you're exactly like the treats you bake. He likes how your vividly honeyed persona contrasts with his darker and reserved one. Likes how you're all colors of the rainbow and he's just a scale of greys.

They are small interactions. Just courtesy and cordial exchange of words everytime he visits. He doesn't even know your name and you don't even know his, but sometimes he asks how was your weekend and sometimes you ask how many people had he inked that week. Sometimes he tells you how pretty you look, and sometimes you blush in response. Sometimes you add an extra macaron in his order and sometimes he debates on whether or not he should write down his number on a napkin and slide in right on the countertop before he waves goodbye. 

And although Jungkook has never been one to shy away from women, he feels a certain way he can't exactly pinpoint. A way that makes his confidence falter and leaves him feeling like a little kid who's afraid to confess to the girl he likes. Because as cliché as it sounds, you're not like any other girls he's ever met. You don't feel like any other girl he's ever met. Not the older than him, tattoed and pierced type of girl he's accustomed to; not the type of girl that's addicted to trouble and believe him (maybe even hoped) to be something he's not. So it takes a while for him to summon up enough bravery and determination. It takes weeks of pining and overthinking, and a single push from Yoongi ('stop being a fucking pussy and just do it') to ask you to have coffee with him.

"I... I'm sorry. I can't."

And it only takes those words leaving your mouth to shatter his heart into pieces. 

 It's fine though, he told you and himself. He wasn't going to be one of those guys who believed the 'friendzone' was an actual thing and tried his best to not make you feel uncomfortable, really tried his best to erase the guilt across your face as you rejected him.  So he scratched the back of his head and mustered up a big smile before leaving the shop with a bag full of cupcakes and an unsettled stomach.

Letting out a deep breath you didn't even know you were containing, you observe as the handsome stranger exits the shop. Running a hand through your hair before gripping the counter with your hands, you try to steady the heavy throbbing insde your chest. 

The boy in question had been unknowingly tormenting you and flooding your mind with thoughts of him for almost two months now. That day you first had spotted him eyeing the desserts in display in amazement and then you in the very same way. It was sudden and precipitated, but it had almost made your head spin, something you hadn't felt in a long time unexplainable tugging at your insides. 

You had kept your cool as best as you could, as best as you had taught yourself in the past. Wrapped those cookies he had asked and then waved goodbye, hoping under your breath he wouldn't come back but silently wishind he would. But then he did. He came back once. And then again. And again, and before you realized he had become a frequent costumer. Trying whatever treats you'd recommended him, creating small talk, sending friendly smiles here and then. 

You had learned to expect him at the very same time, the very same day of the week; had learned to manage the fluttering in your tummy and the reddish warmth spreading through your cheeks whenever the eye contact was prolongued. Everything was innocent, it was brief and, most importanly, it never went beyond, even if sometimes you hoped it did.

However, after all these years, there was still something you hadn't learned to control yet. And as he spoke, clearly nervous, hesitant and clearly out of his comfort zone, wondering out loud if he could ever treat you to a coffee sometime, your body shut down. The fondness and excitement you had been harboring over the last few weeks quickly replaced by that which made you want to recoil, made you want to back to your well to let its darkness and loneliness envelop you.

That horrible and ugly wave of crippling fear and axiety all mixed together; a little monster that you had successfully concealed, now displaying its ears in warning and the same smile that had been haunting you for years, now advising you, reminding you and most of all, threatening you, to go back to your own comfort zone. And so, powerless, there was nothing else you could really to but to comply, muttering an apology and a rejection that probably pained you more than it pained the boy in front of you.

You knew you did the right thing, but it definitely didn't feel like it. 

Especially a week later, as you expected his arrival- as always, ready with a tray full of fresh baked scones you had particularly made just for him, but were left severely disappointed when time passed and he was nowhere to be seen. Or two weeks later, after spending an extra hour making cake pops that you had specifically designed with him in mind (covered in dark chocolate and white sprinkles), only to realize it was closing time and that he never even showed up.

 To say you were bummed was an understatement. You knew you always looked forward to him coming in every week to grace your day with a smile and a polite talk, but you didn't come to terms with how much you would miss it until now. So three weeks later, you still bake with him in mind, trying not to lose hope but still chastising yourself for not being brave enough and accepting his offer. It was just a coffee date, for God's sake, not a marriage proposal! Trying to busy your mind with work and customers coming in and out, even if your eyes dart in anticipation everytime you hear the door swinging. 

When hours pass and the sun hides to make room for the moon and stars into the sky, you look at the clock and, with a defeated sigh, finish cleaning and tidying around the shop. But before you can gather your things, the door swings open and there stands the stranger you had been praying to see again. 

"Am I too late?" he asks, and you don't exactly know but can tell his words hold a double meaning. You smile, a genuine smile, because he looks bashful with a hand scratching the back of his head like he had done the last time you saw him, and because there's a warm sensation spreading through your chest, like your heart is smiling for you. 

"I was about to close, but I can make an exception." you accomplish to say and surprisingly don't sound as nervous as you feel. He mirrors your smile as he walks closer to the counter. "So, what would you like?" 

That takes him by surprise because he really had nothing in mind when he decided to come here and now he feels like an idiot. 

"Uh, um... I would like... maybe cupcakes?" he sounds like an idiot too. But you nod and smile at him and start gathering his cupcakes into a polka dot cardboard box.

"You missed the cake pops I made last week." you say, trying to keep your voice in check as he hands you his credit car. "I think you would've liked them."

"Ah, sorry... Work has been really hectic." and even if it's true, it's also true the fact that he chickened out and was frightened to face you again. He likes how even when you're alluding to his absence, there's not a malicious tone behind your words. He likes how you're still smiling at him even after he's been acting like a pussy for two weeks. But that's why he's here. "I also would like to apologize for... you know. I didn't-...If I made you feel uncomfortable, I'm really sorry."

With your eyebrows raised, your smile dissipates. "What? No, you didn't do anything wrong, really. It's not- It's not that. I just...can't." you stumble through words, trying to explain how much you actually wanted to go to that coffee date, to get to know his name and more of himself, but unavailable to. You can feel it again. The same anguish that always seem to creep up on you and numbs you altogheter. But him, worriedly sensing your distress, waves his hands in front of him.

"No, no. It's fine, you don't have to explain anything! It's alright!" his smile seems to soothe you and you return his smile in gratitude. "Anyways, I'll... I'll get going. See you next week?"

You nod, anticipation already making its way into you. "See you next week." and then he takes the box filled with cupcakes and says goodbye. Before he can open the door though, a tingle of impulsivity and fearlesness makes you say:

"I'm _____, by the way."

He pauses, clearly taken aback.

"Jungkook."

Jungkook hasn't stopped repeating your name in his head ever since you gave it to him, grinning like a fool and thinking about how good it sounds next to his. He hasn't stopped frequenting your bakery either and has lost count on how much money he's spent on muffins and whatever else you sell. He doesn't care though. All he cares about is how much likes seeing you even if it's only for fifteen minutes in your floral dresses, and as long as you keep looking like you're glad to see him every time, then he's fine. 

He's more than fine. He feels amazing. Sings tunes while he works on customers, feels his creativity flowing more than ever and he feels whole. It still baffles him how a minimun interaction with you once a week can make him feel on top of the world. 

He's got a bouquet of white and pink lillies next time he visits, so sappy and romantic he doesn't even recognize himself. He doesn't tell you he googled their meaning and his mind instantly associated them with you. Purity is exactly what he thinks of you and admiration is exactly how he feels about you. Hands it to you and the surprised look on your face and the spreading of pink all over your cheeks makes his heart burst. You thank him and he tells you he didn't know what your favourite flower is. You answer it's carnations. He writes it down somewhere in his mind, for next time. And then you're the one surprising him.

"Would you like to have coffee sometime?" 

There's uncertainty in your voice that doesn't go unnoticed by him, and for a moment he thinks he's dreaming. He's cool with what he's got right now with you, but you repeating his words back to him makes him feel euphoric, like he can't believe it. He knows he looks dumb, the way he's looking at you. 

Completely dumbfounded. He stutters like the first same he met you, but he says yes (omits the part where he tells you he could almost die). You exchange number in each other's phones with shaky hands, set the day and hour, and then wave each other goodbye. 

You instantly regret it as you watch him leave. Keep regretting it the following days. That voice in your head telling you 'it'll happen again', telling you fairytales didn't exist and this most likely wasn't one, even if it felt like it was, suffocating you like it had done many times before. Screwing with your head until you consider canceling. 

But you power through it, like you had taught yourself to do. This time it's harder though. Because this time there's a new romantic interest at hand, one that's making you feel things you buried a long time ago and made you swear to yourself you'd be smarter and stronger than any man could. 

It's Hoseok's encouraging words that help ease the panic. It was also Hoseok's words who encouraged you to ask Jungkook out. Said you deserved something good for once and that you couldn't close yourself to love your entire life. 

Thought it was time for you to write a new chapter after a rather sad one. 

So on Saturday, Jungkook insists on picking you up and it already feels like too much for you. Especially when he shows up with a bouquet of carnations in his hand and a smile that takes your breath away and definitely doesn't help to ease your nerves. 

Takes him by surprised how pretty you look.  maybe because it's the first time he's seen you out of your shop and even though you're still loyal to your clothing style, he still fumbles with his words like an idiot to try to express how beautiful you look. Seeing he's as much of a mess as you settles you a little bit. Then he takes you to a cute café that almost makes you laugh, because seeing him, inked arms and piercings and a closet that consisted mainly of black oversized t-shirts and pants in such a bright environment reminds you of the first time he entered your shop. 

You're surprised to see how well the conversation rolls, how easy it is to talk to him beyond the usual brief interactions you two have. You like how he makes you laugh and how he seems to love hearing it. You like how his attention is solely focused on you, even if his gaze on yours sometimes feels too intense and his overall character intimidates you. You like how soft spoken he is, how careful he is with words and the sound of his voice. Sounds like a lullaby without melody. 

And when the date is over, he drives you home, walks you to your door and respectfully wishes you a good night. You kiss him on the cheek spontaniously before hiding the embarrassment on your face and stepping inside your home. You miss the way he stays at your doorstep for a whole minute before getting in his car and driving himself home. You also miss how peacefully he sleeps that night, dreaming of cupcakes and you. You don't miss the heart emoji he sends you before going to bed, making yours quiver.

You're glad you didn't cancel, and now you're sure you don't regret it at all

It goes on. The dates, getting to know each other more and more, Jungkook's visits to your shop and spending way too much money on sweets and carnations, the butterflies in your stomach everytime he's near and the birth of something inside of you that's starting to make you feel alive after feeling dead for so long. 

It's still new, still wholesome, moves in slow motion. You're glad Jungkook doesn't push, doesn't ask for anything, never demands more than a kiss on the cheek everytime he drops you off. He is nothing like he looks like, you realized that right away.

But with every brand new beginning that requires feelings like this, especially as unique and exceptional as the ones Jungkook is causing within you, comes the evil monster trying to scare you off, to make you back off and remind you that not everything that shines is gold. The voice inside your head that keeps bewitching you back into a dark room, reminder in your head everytime that one day Jungkook will want more. He'll want more and you might not be ready to give it to him. 

A voice that keeps resonating and has kept you unmoving for the past few years and now is making you feel more frightened than ever. 

You've been more quite than usual and Jungkook can tell something is not quite right. It's a friday night, and after having dinner that he insisted on paying, he decided this time to drive you away, to a secluded space somewhere where you both can appreciate the city lights on the hood of his car. He can tell, so he asks you, but you give a vague answer. He wants to ask again, but he's afraid of overstepping your boundaries. He wants to get to know you in every level, want's to scratch the surface until he can see everything. He wants to learn you inch by inch. Wants to love every part you bare to him, because he's sure he will. 

"My ex partner was abusive."

You finally say with a voice that's not entirely yours, and it doesn't feel real. Doesn't feel real to say out loud and letting the words sink in. It's taken all this time of excusing behaviors that were not excusable, trying to make light of a situation that wasn't and blaming yourself for things that you were not to blame for. Jungkook stays silent, but his attention immediately focused on you as soon as you spoke. Eyes slightly wide and mouth starting to open as if to speak himself. But you go on.

"Not physically." you swallow a lump in your throat. "Sometimes he would throw things at me, but they didn't always land. Or... one time he pushed me while we were arguing. Never raised his hand at me though. It was mostly psychological and emotional. He was extremely jealous and possesive. Didn't like me hanging with my friends, would never bring me to hang out with him and his friends. Though I' was cheating on him with anyone. The cashier at the supermarket, a randome dude on the street that simply looked at me. Anyone." tears prickle your eyes, but you'd learned to hold them back.

"He would always get mad at me. Would already wake up angry and take it out on me. Without reason. Would always blame me for everything. He would get mad, insult me, call me any terrible name you can imagine, tell me I wasn't worth shit. That I wasn’t worth living.Then he would punch the wall, or break whatever was in sight. Everytime, I told him I was terrified of him. Would cry in a corner and beg him to stop. Sometimes he would just laugh at me for it." you sniff, still looking straight at the city lights, and trying to keep a composed tone throughout. You had grown up a lot since then, and you knew Jungkook deserved to know you. He deserved to understand. 

"Then he would calm down, apologize while he cried and promised he loved me and would change. He never did. It took me a long time to finally walk away, but the demons still haunt me to this day. You," you choke, because comparing your ex to the guy currently sitting next to you was like day and night, like heaven and hell. "You make me feel things I've never felt before. I always felt like asking for respect was asking for too much. And then here you come, like a knight on shining armour ready to sweep me off my feet. It felt like a dream. Still does..."

Jungkook's hands are balled into tight fists, his whole body rigid as he listened to you. His own heart breaking, like he could feel himself inside you and experiencing your own heartbreak. His blood's boiling, jaw so tight and eyes blinking. Pushing down his anger, because this is about you not him, he lets his body relax before sliding your hand in yours. 

"I like you so much,_____, it literally kills me at night how much. Not as much as hearing all of this, though. From the moment I saw you, I was whipped. I wanted and still want to give everything I can to see that smile of yours. It's me the one who can't believe you're paying me any attention at all." you're still not looking at him, but he still sighs in relief when your lips quirk up. "Just having you here next to me and letting me take you out on dates is more than enough for me. Whatever you give me, whatever your terms are, I'm content with that. You're healing, and while you do, I'll be right here."

You look at him now, not bothering to hide the tears streaming down your face anymore.

"What if I never heal completely?" there's fear in your voice as your eyes meet his, but just the dark brown in his gaze help you feel secure, less worried about the future and more serene about the now.

"I'll still be here."

It doesn't take long for you to call it love.  

Not when Jungkook keeps proving himself to be so different and so special. Not when his gestures never cease to make you feel so special, so worthy of recieving and sharing love. Because Jungkook makes you feel invincible, makes you feel one in a million. 

"What to you even see in me? We're like, polar opposites." you ask him one day. And it's true, you are. So different from each other, yet the same. He laughs in disbelief, shaking his head, still holding your hand in your doorstep about to kiss your cheek goodnight. 

"I see everything." he simply says, eyes boring into yours in adoration. "I see the sun, and the moon, the stars, the entire galaxy when I'm with you." your heart clenches as he interlaces his fingers with yours. "Before I met you, I felt like I was blind. Like I was lost and was looking for an exit that I couldn't find. But then I saw you, in your little bakery, with your cute dresses and those eyes, and it was like my eyes opened for the first time. Everything made sense. Everything has been filled with so many colors ever sinc-" 

You shut him with your lips on top of his, emotions pulling at your heartstrings the same way you pull him down by the neck. He takes a few seconds to respond, but then this hands are dropping to your waist, their warmth immediately spreading through your skin against the chilly night.

"Would you like to come in?" you whisper, breath fanning over his lips. He nods, hurriedly, and he knows he looks like a damn idiot for the hundredth time, but he doesn't care. Because coming in doesn't only mean stepping in your home. Coming in means you're letting him in. Means you trust him, means you want him there, means you're allowing him inside your heart. 

Again, Jungkook doesn't expect nor demands much. Your presence is everything he needs. You kissing him is like winning the lottery to him. Like completing a marathon, like climbing the Everest, like getting his first tattoo. Kissing you is sweet, fills him with something strong that makes him feel on drugs, like nothing matters but you and him. Like nothing has ever mattered to neither of you. 

So it's you who leads him to your room, it's you who straddles his thighs and pushes his hair back as his hands carress your sides. It's nothing fiery. It's slow, tentative, and full of care. Of lingering touches, low sighs against each other's mouths. 

It's you who reaches inside his shirt, hand sneaking past the hem of the fabric and trembling cold fingers coming in contact with firm skin. It's also you who asks for more with a small roll of your hips. It's you who asks him to take his shirt off. It's him who complies. Still tells you you don't have to, you tell him you want to. 

It's you who asks him to touch you. He's scared like he's never been, because you're you, and you're so perfect and everything he's ever wanted and suddenly he's afraid of you're too good for him. Jungkook only wants to make you happy, never wants to see you cry, just wants to treat you the way you deserve. 

It's you who begs.

It's you who tells him you need him. Need him take care of you, need him to show you much you're worth, need him to help you write a new chapter, probably even a new book where you're both the main characters and nobody else has ever existed. You say it with tears in your eyes, and he's quick to kiss them away, tongue entangling with yours. He's quick to undress you as well, with hands that still ask for permission even after you've granted it already. Hands and lips that are also quick and eager to learn your body, to find every mole in your skin as he lays you back to look at you in admiration. He keeps kissing you. From head to toe, muttering praise, making sure every 'beautiful' and 'gorgeous' and 'perfect' that leave his lips stay fire engraved in your being forever. 

He first makes you cum with careful fingers and skilled tongue, thighs wrapped aro around his head, eyes still looking for yours as his hands keep your body still and yours crumple the sheets beneath. Tells you how good you taste, how long he's been dying to have you like this. Tells you this you his favourite sight as he kisses his way up. 

You beg him again, asking him to please, please, fill you up. He groans against your mouth and he tells you again, you don't have to. He says he's happy like this. Repeats he's in no rush and just wants to please you and make you feel good. That it's about you, and will always be about you. You beg him again, and again and again, enticing him with a trail of wet kisses down his neck, up to his eralobe. You whisper there, tell him you need him to fill you with his cock so bad. His whole body goes rigid as your legs wrap around him, legs pulling him closer to where you want him, his erection grazing your entrance and his teeth nibble your lower lip. 

Jungkook doesn't move for a while, eyes closed shut, jaw clenched and head buried in your neck. He doesn't move because his mind is somewhere else keeping him stagnant, pussy wrapping around him so good and wet and tight he's about to bust. Takes a while for him to move, but when he does he makes sure to grip your thighs around him, keeping you close, never wanting to let go as he tells you you were made just for him. Just for him. Tells you how good you feel. He tells you he loves you. Kisses your lips as you sob, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. He tells you he loves you. Tells you he'll love you forever and will always keep you safe and happy. 

You're crying now, cheeks wet and he stops for a moment to look at you, concern written all over his face as his hands craddle yours, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. "We can stop, baby." You shake your head no. Pull him back into another kiss, urging him to go on. You tell him you love this, love him so much. That it's a good thing. That they are happy tears. That you've never been happier. And then his hips start moving again, your words egging him own, soft whimpers and sobs leaving each other's throats until you cum at the same time. 

He then removes himself from you, rolling onto your side but he's quick to pull your body close, arms wrapping around you and lips kissing away the wet stains on your cheeks. 

It doesn't take long for you to know Jungkook would be the healthy forever and after you had always dreamed of.

[enchanted-lightning-aes]

Watch It Unfold

A/N: just a tale of three friends having movie night. and disclaimer, i didn’t see the movie mentioned. i’ve only researched it’s iconic scenes.^^

Word Count: 777

TW: only mentions of romance

***

"Get ready, you guys," Nijiko says, rubbing her hands together. She picks up a Blu-ray disk. "Ta-da! We're going to watch this for movie night!"

Examining a title on the cover, Tegan arches a brow. Okay, um. . . not what she expected from her best friend, to be honest. Maybe an action flick or a musical. Definitely not this.

"Seriously?" Cassie scrunches her nose. "The Proposal? Why do you want to watch this?"

"Because I've been waiting for it to be out on Blu-ray!" Nijiko slips her laptop out of it's case. “C’mon, it’s gonna be fun! A rom-com won’t hurt anyone.”

Tegan shrugs while Cassie stares at the Blu-ray disk with chagrin.

They’re both aware of her slight disbelief towards that genre. Tegan gets it, totally understands. She’s no good at writing scripts that balances both romance and comedy together. Still, she can’t deny she’s been interested in the movie’s premise. Two people pretending to be engaged, just so one of them won't be deported? A little bit up her alley, really.

It's a Saturday night, where they're in Nijiko and Tegan's shared dorm.

So, Nijiko presses the power button on her laptop while setting it on a desk. She plops the disk onto a slot then opens it up. She clicks at the menu, playing the movie.

When it begins rolling, Tegan fills buckets of popcorn for three of them. They sit down on the bed with her between Nijiko and Cassie.

It's been a while since Tegan had an opportunity to hang out with her friends. They've been busy with classes, doing their own thing. It's not as if it's simple to arrange a schedule, where they can spend time together.

Thankfully, they managed to figure it out. Even if it's only for tonight and they might be dealing with college stuff again later.

The movie starts with Margaret asking her secretary, Andrew, to be pretend to be her fiancé. Cue awkward moments, and scenes, where they're probably blurring between what's real and fake. And add in with a delightful grandma, so much hijinks ensue compared to an average rom-com.

It gets three of them to burst into laughter. Even Cassie, who usually doesn't laugh at rom-coms. Tegan's ribs squeeze as her breath wheezes.

They comment on their thoughts regarding on what's going on in a specific scene. And while eating their popcorn. She's so glad it has enough salt and butter on it.

Even a sitcom doesn't make her feel like this.

Before she can stand up for water, she gets a bit preoccupied by what's happening on screen. Margaret's outside talking on her phone while a dog barks. And an eagle suddenly decides to. . . cause problems.

Nijiko gasps in alarm and Cassie's eyes widen.

"This is getting so embarrassing," Nijiko mumbles, squeezing her eyes shut. "Somebody, hold me closer!"

"Did. . . did a damn eagle snatch her phone?" Cassie asks, her voice blank.

Tegan pulls a face. "Okay. . . okay, that's just. . . so weird."

Weird enough for her to want a drink other than water. She still gets her bottle, and continues watching the movie. It's duration's not too long, so they reach to the scene, where both characters confess on how their feelings have turned real. They get together and it finishes.

A light sensation settles over her chest. She claps in response once credits takes over the screen.

Nijiko smacks her hands together. "So, how is it?"

"It's not a bad rom-com," Tegan says, failing to contain her grin. "I guess they're a better straight pairing I've seen in any story. It's sure something, alright."

"I. . . I had fun watching it," Cassie admits. She crunches on pieces of popcorn. "And they're believable together, so I don't have much complaints."

"Really? That's good to hear!" Nijiko laughs with joy while turning her laptop off.

Tegan tilts her head to the side. "Didn't think I'd see you like a rom-com this much, pal."

"Actually, this is a rom-com that's more enjoyable than others for me," Nijiko says, munching on popcorn. "At least, the main pairing gets to know each other while having a mutual animosity. They didn't like each other instantly, they had to warm up before they have feelings."

"Yeah, it's why I like it too," Cassie replies.

"Anyway, we still have more hours to go," Nijiko says, pointing on her watch. "Do any of you have suggestions on what else to watch?"

The three of them proceed checking a stack of Blu-ray cases, searching for it. Being like this with her friends did help her to wind down from hectic stuff.

***

[datawyrms]

Half a Decade Late

Valerie was finally promoted to the main headquarters of the Guys in White. There she finally comes face to face with Phantom, who disappeared five years ago, locked in a cell. For Phic Phight 2021, @lexosaurus' prompt!

Nothing proved ’harder workers get ahead’ was only a capitalist lie than the absolute hassle getting promotions within the GIW. Of course she’d gone right to them for employment, it was the only organization large enough to actually pay people that took her resume of ghost hunting seriously. She had experience, actual knowledge and even her own gear but had still spent years getting jerked around to various small operations, basically just using her to train all their useless recruits while still just considering her a ‘fellow’ field agent. It wasn’t like she had the option to quit in protest, no one else was in the market for ghost hunters. As far as most people knew ‘ghost intelligence’ was just a joke cover story that the agents were very attached to. They didn’t want any more Amity Parks, so if she wanted to live somewhere new and still do her job...these guys were it. She’d been very clear, she wanted to be in the main office, where everything happened. That didn’t stop them from constantly assigning her literally anywhere but the actual headquarters. Maybe they finally ran out of other places, she still half expected to get stopped at the door and be told about a new field mission they absolutely needed her on immediately. It didn’t happen. Valerie Grey finally got to clock in as an Ecto Containment Officer at the main branch. Where they kept the strongest creatures, developed the new anti-ghost equipment and did more than just splattering a ghost down to nothing. Sure, she liked a good ghost obliterating, but it got boring after a while. There were only so many ways a ghost could beg for it’s useless afterlife before it became white noise. It didn’t stop any new ones from showing up, or tell her anything new. Just got rid of one pest, permanently. That wouldn’t help explain some ghosts, the powerful ones that showed up again and again. It wouldn’t explain the one that stopped showing up either. There was no way that life ruining ghost just got ‘bored’ and vanished without notice. It was still out there, plotting something. She just knew it in her bones. She had to be ready for it. There were traces of that ghost, hints of his ectosignature that she came across in the field, he was still out there. The GIW was just a means to an end, she didn’t trust them to be ready alone.

Sterile corridors and simplistic signs were expected, but even the break area was doing its best impression of a frozen tundra. Fantastic for morale? Probably not. Made the coffee pot easy to spot, at least. Even if she preferred to avoid the stuff in uniform. It stained too easily, and just made her wish for her red battle suit. She took a cup to at least have an excuse for her scoping out the place, she could pass it off to someone once she got to the containment area. A quick double check that everything was in place at the mirror before heading right back out to the winding halls. She wasn’t going to be late, she didn’t have time for that. Maybe a red tie was against protocol, but no one had been stupid enough to bother her about it yet. Judging from the deferential nods from her latest coworkers, that wouldn’t be changing. No one who worked here couldn’t know who she was. The only Ghost Hunter who got out of Amity Park without getting corrupted by the ectoplasmic monsters. It was a shame, Jack and Maddie Fenton used to be a serious force for humanity. Five years ago they suddenly flipped the script, denouncing their work and calling for peace with unreasonable fiends. Their daughter Jazz likely had something to do with it, but Valerie had her own theories. Danny, her friend and once boyfriend had gone missing around that time. Leverage to ensure the Fenton’s ‘good behaviour?’ The whole thing reeked of ghosts. To think she might have gone the same way. Back then she was actually listening to the pest, starting to really consider them a ‘good’ ghost. Like that was actually possible, when he’d just been playing to emotion and her own desire to give up in fighting a dangerous foe over and over. So much for that. That monster showed it’s true colours, sure enough. Something the GIW never bothered to look into, even as she wrote report after report about the incident, how unlikely it was for the Fentons of all people to change that drastically without constant possession. Not worth the resources, even when it was easy to see what tech was built on the foundations the couple had laid. They were throwing away so much to focus on little outbreaks of ghosts instead of making more of a lasting change. Stupid. That was what the funding was ‘meant’ to go towards, as if helping the Fentons would be less productive than making a slightly different ectogun.

She almost hoped there would be a problem, just to prove this is where she should have always been.Even if it seemed distinctly unlikely. She had to swipe to get into the lab, then yet again to actually get to the cells. Or the ‘vault’, as if the higher ups wanted to pretend the creatures in there were inert materials instead of cunning and dangerous beings. Even though they had someone posted at each door, and someone on guard inside as well, herself today. To get acquainted with the place mostly, she had more than enough training on ‘proper handling’ procedures.

“Hey, you can swap with me today, if you want.”

Valerie blinked, eyebrow already raised at the posted guard’s suggestion. “I can handle watching caged ghosts.”

They had the sense to look embarrassed, taking their hand away from the oversized ectogun to loosen their tie- which was tied rather poorly now that she got a better look at it. “I’m sure you can, it’s just, well.” They wouldn’t stop fidgeting with their tie now, eyes checking that no one was really paying attention to the guards. “H0G02 is awake today. No one likes those days.”

“Then all the more reason to get used to it early.” She didn’t give them time to sputter another excuse, swiping her card and striding past without another look. As if people should be worried about a captive ghost being awake. Maybe some of the people here never got a spine before joining up.

It wasn’t as cold as she expected it to be. Or as dark. It was actually brighter, thanks to the extra row of fluorescent lights. On some level she expected the room to reflect the monsters kept here, a shadowy icebox of a space. Of course it wasn’t. These were defeated creatures under human control, of course their cages would be bright and clean, the air warmed for human comfort. The ghosts might not like it, but why care what they wanted? It wasn’t like there were many to begin with, mostly green oversized vermin with blank red eyes. Most had the sense to cower back as she walked past, but a fair few didn’t even twitch. Calling a ghost of all things lifeless was foolish, but it was the only word coming to mind...she had to focus. She didn’t pity these things. Why so many creatures though? The real dangerous ones, the most monstrous ones were the ones that could play human, the ones that had conniving minds that only worked to cause destruction and terror. These were just feral things, annoying but hardly more impressive than a coyote when you knew what to do. Half of them she’d barely rate above ‘feral cat’. A light near the back flickered. Strange. When it flickered a second time she was already releasing her helmet to pull it on. Not nearly as easy as just willing it on, but at least she could carry it in a pocket without needing to rely on some ghost’s power. Three steps and her gun was ready, not that she expected to need it. Really, she worked on autopilot, legs still moving as she stared at the largest glass cage at the back of the room. Or more accurately, at what was in it.

“Oh, newbie. ‘Sup.” The ghost rasped out, blank green eyes watching the ghost hunter. A teenaged boy with a shock of white hair, a black jumpsuit, but the voice of a seventy year old chain smoker. Just sitting in a painfully bright cell, watching. Not exactly as she remembered him, but close enough.

“You.” The disgust was easy to voice, even as her brain struggled to catch up. He was here? Looking practically exactly as he had when she was still a soft hearted freelancer?

He only gave a sputtering laugh at the aggression. “Me? You’re not that mad about the light, are you? I’m bored, Tie.”

“What are you doing here?” That wasn’t the important question really, she should be more concerned that he apparently was able to manipulate light fixtures from his cell...but she’d been hunting after this ghost for five years. Protocol could go shove itself up the director’s ass.

“Same thing I do every day Tie, being some government property!” His laugh was wrong, not from amusement like she remembered. A desperate cackle that didn’t fool anyone. “You new enough to still have your soul in there?”

“Answer the question, Phantom.”

The smirk slid off the ghost’s face. “Wh’ad you call me? Like I’m only calling you Tie cus the red sticks out, I can call you Shooty if you don’t like it, newbie.”

The response made her insides run cold. It had to be Phantom, and the terrible sense of humour was just like him- but the ghost wasn’t quite right. What was this? It couldn’t be some copy of the ghost kid, could it? “I called you by your name, ghost.”

“Never heard of em.” The ghost crossed his legs and looked away, apparently bored of the person holding a weapon. “What day is it?”

Surely he was playing around. “What do you think your name is, then?”

He didn’t take his attention off the ceiling, looking more bored than anything.“Day first, Tie. Gotta know how much of a head start I’ve got.”

“Like you’re in any position to bargain.”

“Hm? Whatcha gonna do Tie? Let me be unconscious for a few hours? Scary. Day first.”

There was the Phantom she knew, snide and sarcastic when he really had no business being so. “I could do worse than that.”

“Doubt it. You gun grunts gotta listen to the freaks out there, remember?” His shoulders shook with a silent laughter, but it looked more like spasms. “No more mishandling the goods, yeah? Day Tie, comeonnnnnn”

Since when was he so interested in the calendar? Not to mention how weird it was how he kept referring to himself...and pretending he didn’t know his name. “It’s Monday.”

That got his attention, the casual rocking halting as he looked at her again, disturbingly still. “Monday, really?”

“Lying is your thing, not mine.”

He grinned. “I like you Tie, so you’ll probably be fired in like a week. Maybe it’s the red.” The tension left the ghost completely, she hadn’t even noticed how stiffly he’d been sitting until his spine relaxed as his elbows rested on his legs. “Pretty sure I’m H0G02. Least that’s what all your creeps call me.”

There was no way Phantom of all ghosts would call himself ‘H0G02’. He had to be a mimic of some sort, a ghost that modelled himself on the once well known Amity Park menace. “You like me because I told you it was Monday? Seriously?”

“I like the Mondays more than you, if that helps.”

“Not particularly.”

“Sounds like a you problem.” He was watching her again, more curious than anything. She shouldn’t be glad to see a spark of something in those eyes, but he was far less creepy this way.

“What’s so great about Monday? You’re a ghost.” She didn’t really care. She should be asking important questions. She was just...playing along to see if it really was Phantom. That didn’t stop her for being grateful for the helmet.

“Monday is the farthest day away from Friday.”

“Wouldn’t that be Saturday?”

“It hasn’t been Saturday or Sunday for...like four years? Those days don’t exist, I think you humans made ‘em up to prank me.” Phantom shrugged, sounding completely serious. Not even a hint of amusement or a grin. “Pretty good one, all you new guys keep it up.”

He was going to be completely useless if he kept saying nonsense. How could he be useful in finding out what happened to the Fenton’s son if he couldn’t even talk about the days of the week sensibly? “Fine, what’s so bad about Friday then.”

“Ohhhhh, you’re really new, Tie.” the ghost flopped onto his side, bored of sitting up apparently. “You know, the day they keep me around for? That day.” He wasn’t quite still, his right shoulder moving very, very carefully. Hiding something.

She didn’t have the patience for this.“What are you hiding there.”

“Tie has good eyes. Gotta remember that.” Phantom muttered, getting onto his back, a blue shard of ice melting off his arm.

“You don’t really think that some ice would help you out of there?”

“Out?” He looked mystified by the suggestion, but that could more be seeing his face upside down. “That glass doesn’t break for anything, I should know.”

Which didn’t explain why he’d been trying to hide the fact he’d made ice at all. He knew it too, but apparently playing stupid was still one of his favourite tactics. “Knock it off and just answer me.”

Phantom’s frown didn’t change, green eyes staring intently at her helmet as if hoping to see through it. “I could show you why?”

It didn’t sound like a threat. “Sure, why not. It’s gonna be a long day.” If it was? Then she’d show him that she wasn’t someone he could mess with.

Ice wrapped itself around the ghost’s lower arm alarmingly quick, a wickedly sharp blade of ice with serrated teeth jutting from the scrawny arm at an awkward angle. It was practised, something this ghost must have done often in all the time he’d been gone from her life. Yet it was so different from how Phantom usually chose to fight. That was a weapon to tear and maim, not to shock, stun or bruise. It looked wrong on him. The idea that this ghost wasn’t Phantom at all only grew more credible with that thing on his arm, even if ice powers were to be expected. His eyes flicked back to green, still fixated on her as he lifted the arm and stabbed down hard. Right into his other arm. Didn’t even blink.

“What are you doing!” She couldn’t remember the last time Phantom had ever been frightening on some primal level. This- with the disturbing snap of bone as the edges of the blade caught and tore made her hair stand on end. “Stop that, Phantom. What’s wrong with you!?”

“Cancelling Friday.” Phantom was laughing as the blade melted away into the pool of green rapidly spreading from his self inflicted wound. “I said you’d probably get fired Tie.”

“Forget Friday you idiot, cover the wound so you stop splattering everywhere!” He was just a ghost-a ghost messing with her. A ghost she’d fought with and had heard scream in pain. This...thing wasn’t him. Her heart didn’t care what her mind thought, insisting he needed help.

The ghost sat up, his left arm holding on by a shred of his suit before splattering into the puddle, but the left behind stump stopped dripping almost as quickly as he’d lost the limb. “Aw. Maybe Tie does have some soul left. You actually sound worried.”

“Of course I am! You slashed your arm off!”

“So?”

He didn’t seem to be in pain. If it wasn’t for the mess of green and the lack of a limb, she’d almost say she imagined it. Why did she care? “You wouldn’t do this sort of thing.”

“Uh. Yes I would? You just saw me do it. I’m down for an encore.”

The idea just made her feel ill. “Don’t.” Did she want this to be Phantom or not? “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Well I’m down an arm. So the coats are going to be very whiny about how much ectoplasm they can get out of me.”

“You must have felt that.”

“Sure. Isn’t nearly as bad as when they start ripping as much ectoplasm as they can out of you. Every single Friday.” He actually rolled his eyes, like she should just know this.

Why did they bother keeping Phantom around if they just wanted ectoplasm? He might be strong, but no ghost had limitless amounts. They’d just fall apart and stop existing. That’s why the weakest ones never even left the Ghost Zone, they couldn’t survive without constantly being around the stuff! “What makes you so special then? Not your attitude.”

“I’m just lucky enough to make my own ectoplasm. Who knew food was easier to get then high grade ectoplasm? Not me.” His remaining arm pointed to her weapon, his smile stretching. “Bet ya your weapon’s fully powered from Fridays. Yours and every other thing they use in this hellhole.”

“Ghosts can’t do that.” The lie was absurd. It went against everything they knew about ghosts, even before food entered the equation.

“Y’know, Tie. I think I knew a ghost hunter that wore red once.” the ghost’s eyes went unfocused, unmoving as he looked listlessly into space. “It’s a good colour.”

“You knew me. Quit fooling around with this not remembering crap.” Valerie threw her helmet aside, no longer caring. She had to know who this ghost really was. She had to know if everything he was blathering about was a lie. So what if it wasn’t ‘safe’.

His eyes didn’t change. “Y’know how hard it is to remake a brain? Cut me some slack Tie…”

“I mean it. Look at me Phantom. If you’re the ghost I know, you can stop pretending to be something else.”

“You lose the details. Arms and legs are easy. The brain though? Way too hard.” He kept rambling to himself, not reacting even as she put a hand to the glass to get his attention. “Y’know how many times they’ve cut it open? I don’t. I lose track after like. Eleven. Maybe. Pointy Shoe said my best was fifteen but I sure don’t remember that.”

She wanted him to just stop talking. She wanted this ghost to be some strange creature she didn’t know. To not have the only possible link to someone long lost a shattered husk. “Phantom. Do you remember the hunter in red’s name?”

He finally blinked. “I’m not this Phantom guy, Tie.”

“Okay, whatever, forget that part. The ghost hunter in red, what do you remember?” She insisted, knocking again in hopes it would keep the ghost’s focus.

“Wish I’d told em something.” he held up his gloved hand as she opened her mouth to speak. “Don’t remember what that something was, don’t ask.”

So he was Phantom? He couldn’t be. That was so non-specific it could be anything. “You never explained how you’re the only ghost that can make their own ectoplasm.”

“It’s in my name Tie! Come on. Thought you guys were smart or whatever.” He did a very awkward one armed attempt at crossing it, eyebrow raised. “The H? The feeding a ghost food thing?”

She didn’t really get the whole naming scheme they used here. The fact it mattered wasn’t making her gut unclench either. “What about the H?

“Hybrid? Might have been Human. That might have been a joke.”

Valarie’s mouth was drier than any desert when he said it that easily, that casualty while kicking his own arm aside. “You’re saying you aren’t all ghost.”

“Yup. Not yet! Trust me, I’ve tried,” the bubbly high pitched laugher clawed out of the ghost at that. “I tried so much. Guess it’s another thing I’m a failure at, eh Tie?”

Something told her not to ask. She had to know. Five years she waited, five years apparently knocked Phantom clear from reality.“Does Danny Fenton mean anything to you?”

He just laughed harder at the question. “Really Tie?”

“Yes, really.”

“That’s the name I scream at em. Don’t know why. Feels good though.”

“Is it your name?” Had he had contact with Danny? Been part of whatever made him go missing from everyone’s lives? He couldn’t be, there was no way.

“They get reallllll angry when I say it is.”

There was no way the GIW had a human captive for five years. There was no way Phantom could be the Danny she knew. The ghost was just lying. He had to be, she desperately needed him to be. “Were you fused with a human or something? Got stuck when possessing someone?”

“Nah. Been like this before I got here, pretty sure. You can check your fancy gear though. There’s some non-ghost DNA in it. Lucky lucky me,” he lay back down in the mess of ectoplasm, ignoring how it clung to his hair. “Thanks for the Friday off! I hate those.”

There was no reason to need air. Talking to a ghost she didn’t even like shouldn’t make her feel like she was being crushed under a boulder. Panting for air, outside the room would make her look pathetic and weak, but she needed the space, needed to be away from that...mockery of a ghost.

“He does that to everyone. He’ll repeat the whole thing in a week or so, but he’s a really good copy the first time you see it.” The guard gave a comforting word, apparently unsurprised by her sudden unscheduled departure.

Oh, there would be no ‘next time.’ Not if he was right about her weapon. But she nodded instead, letting her ‘coworker’ think she was just overwhelmed. Even if all she could think of was how many ways this place would burn if that ghost- that thing had been a human once. She was good at telling when ghosts lied. Phantom didn’t sound like he had. No matter how much she tried to convince herself he did.

[perhaps-in-anotherdream]

[CN] S2 Victor- Right Now Is The Time (Eng Translation)

⌚ Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a company project that is yet to be released in the global server! ⌚

NOTE: This post features S2 Victor and MC, and takes place some time in between post-Chapter 4 and pre-Chapter 10. And it’s the 4th company project. However, it doesn’t contain any spoilers regarding the S2 storyline. I’ve listed the notable storyline mentions at the end of the post, so no worries about storyline spoilers! (◍•ᴗ•◍)

ー

[ SECTION 1 ]

The day before the show is officially about to be filmed, I’m setting up the apparatuses in the lobby of LFG.

The company’s new variety event “Right Now is The Time” is a workplace observation related reality show, filming the internship of five talented students working at LFG.

According to the script settings, they have to pass a number of tests with the aim of obtaining a formal offer.

In this process, we hope to be able to display young peoples’ ardent love towards life and strive towards improving themselves simultaneously.

The format of this show has been introduced via overseas. I have spent a long time in obtaining the copyright, and also spent quite a long time in convincing Victor to set the filming location at LFG.

Now that the progress is continuing without a flinch, and the filming is officially about to be started, I also can’t refrain from heaving a sigh of relief.

MC: Master, remember to take away all the wires from here when you leave later. Otherwise, the property owner will definitely say something when he sees them on his way to the office at 6 AM.

As I walk around in the construction site, I lower my head to reply to the messages in the group from time to time. Suddenly, as I turn my head, I almost bump into the person standing behind me head-on.

MC: Victor.... what are you doing here?

Victor pulls away from me slightly, sweeping his gaze at the several cameras hanging high up on the wall.

Victor: This is LFG. What do you mean what I’m doing here?

MC: ....No, that’s not what I meant. I mean, why are you still at the office now. It’s already one o’clock.

Victor: Just got finished. What have you got up here?

MC: It’s nothing. The master will be done in a moment. It certainly won’t affect your company’s regular work tomorrow.

Victor seems to be about to say something when an abrupt call pops up on my phone. I embarrassedly duck my head at him, and tap on the call button.

Anna: MC, are you still at LFG? We have just gone through the script, and kept feeling that we won’t be able to shoot so much in one day. We have to pick out some contents to delete.

Anna: How about you do a round trip to the office, and we go over it one last time?

MC: Okay. I’m also done here anyway. I’ll go back right now. Are you guys hungry? I could buy some late-night snacks and bring them up.

Anna: No need for late-night snacks. We will try to get it done within the shortest possible time.

MC: Alright. I’ll be at the office within half an hour.

I hang up the phone, and turn my head to look at Victor. Even before I can say anything, he opens his mouth immediately.

Victor: I’ll drive you to the office.

MC: It’s okay. I can go back on my own. It’s too late already. You’d better go back and rest.

Victor: You also know it yourself that it’s too late.

He stares at me for a couple of moments, and seems to sigh. Then he takes out the car key from his pocket, motioning me to walk towards the elevator.

Victor: I happen to be going to the airport. I’ll drop you off on the way.

Victor: I’ll be away on a business trip these two days. If you need anything, look for Goldman directly. He will help you in arranging it.

MC: OK. But....

Did he set off for going to the airport in the middle of the night, and is going to attend a meeting on the next day straight away? Although I’ve always known that his work intensity is like this....

Victor: But what?

I fish out a picture from my phone and send it to him, smiling at him jestingly.

MC: I’ve sent you a phone wallpaper.

There are only six words written on the black background with white characters: “Working-class people, working-class souls.”

[ Note: It’s actually sort of a running joke in Chinese “打工人, 打工魂” (dǎ gōng rén, dǎ gōng hún) about the distress of the working class people :(. It has a rhymed version of it in English, but I’m not going to mention it here cause I’m not sure if I should be typing the word haha~ ]

MC: Although I know you are a capitalist, but you are able to understand the spirit.

MC: CEO Victor~ mutual encouragement!

◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──

[ SECTION 2 ]

Before Victor returns from the business trip, I specifically give him a call, wanting to arrange for one of the outstanding performing interns in the show to pick him up at the airport.

I really can’t bear to miss on a good filming material like this.

Victor is speechless on the phone for about 10 seconds before he finally sighs.

Victor: The audiences with little common sense would know that, it’s not within the turns of an intern to pick-up at the airport.

MC: Yes, yes, yes, it’s certainly not within the turns of an intern to pick-up the CEO at the airport. But CEO....

MC: You have great compassion towards considering the ratings of my shows. And you also know how important your appearance for this show is....

MC: You promised me, that you could make an appearance in the trailer for at least 3-5 seconds.

Victor: But according to my understanding of you, when you have a great amount of source materials, it’s impossible to have only 3-5 seconds.

MC: This is no surprise.

MC: You already knew this, and you still promised me. It’s clear that this 3-5 seconds is not the important point. The important point is making the appearance in the appropriate way.

MC: I think going with this pick-up method is very appropriate!

MC: Just be yourself. Whether you want to speak or not, what to say or how to say it, it’s all up to your pleasure, CEO Victor. Is this OK?

An almost inaudible sigh can be heard from Victor over the phone.

Victor: OK. I’ll arrive at 4 PM on the day after tomorrow. If you want to film the pick-up, make the arrangements in advance.

MC: The arrangements will certainly be made adequately for you! I’ll ask Goldman for the flight number.

Victor: Your tone sounds like you’re going to make arrangements with great fanfare.

MC: It’s just.... such as, since it’s a cameo, what kind of clothing and make-up....

Victor: No need.

MC: ....

MC: Yep, yep, yep. No need. CEO Victor will win the show as soon as he steps in front of the lens of the camera. We focus on the authenticity.

Victor: I still have matters to attend to. Let’s leave it here.

MC: You go ahead. I’ll get in touch with you the moment there is some progress!

Since I’ve received the special authority to shoot, I naturally arrange everything up frantically.

On the day of picking up at the airport, I sit in front of the monitor from beginning to the end, and stare at it from the first second Victor gets into the car to the final second. The result is beyond expectation—

Unexpectedly, he and the intern in charge of picking up hasn’t spoken a word.

The big brother in charge of filming laughs out loud as he looks at it: Playing this segment of 3-5 seconds would do it. Perhaps the audiences are going to feel like they are stuck in the frame.

MC: [ Talking to herself ] ....Victor wouldn’t be so stingy to really just give me a few seconds of materials, would he?

I wait until the filming clearance carrying great doubts, and is just intending to look for the intern in charge of picking up and ask a few questions, but that person disappears in the blink of an eye.

After a while, he comes over and finds me, additionally carrying a paper medicine bag in his hand.

Intern: Sister MC, CEO Victor spoke a few words with me after getting off the car. I felt his voice sounded a little hoarse. Would you like to send this to him?

MC: A little hoarse?

Intern: Mm, it felt like a cold. Luckily, we have also been on a project with CEO Victor in the past 2 days. Director Zhang said he even received an email from CEO Victor at 3 o’clock last night. The temperature difference in these two days was so huge and CEO Victor hasn’t rested well. So he might have caught a cold.

A wave of worry floats to my heart as I carry the medicine bag in my hand.

This person.... still doesn’t understand when he starts to feel unwell, nor does he know to make a sound about it.

◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──

[ SECTION 3 ]

I knock on the door to Victor’s office, and there is no response for a long time.

This kind of situation is very rare. I feel a little worried, and twist the doorknob to push open a little crack.

Victor leans back in his chair, dozing off. I haven’t pushed the door too loudly, but it still wakes him up.

He straightens up his back, and reaches out his hand to pinch the space between his eyebrows as he looks at me.

I feel somewhat very bad, and simply walk straight over.

MC: ....Did I wake you up? The intern said your voice sounded a little hoarse. So he bought some medicines for you, and asked me to bring them to you.

MC: Are you OK?

I can’t help stepping forward, and reaching out my hand to place it on his forehead. He has just woken up, his reaction clearly hasn’t come over, and he doesn’t even frown almost subconsciously like ordinary times.

MC: Fortunately, it’s not a fever.

Victor adjusts his suit, picks up the cup, and takes only one sip before putting it down again.

Victor: It’s no big deal.

....His voice indeed is very hoarse, and one can tell it’s a cold just by hearing it.

I rummage through the bag of medicines, and inside are throat-smoothening lozenges, indigowoad roots, fever patches– everything needed is available. It can be clearly seen that the person who bought the medicines was considerate and very attentive.

— Someone might be able to take over the job from Goldman in the future.

I eye up his cup once again. Thinking that the water inside surely have gotten cold a long time ago, I smoothly tear open a bag of indigowoad roots right away, and give it to Victor to brew up.

He actually doesn’t refuse, lifts up the cup with his both hands, letting the warm steam rising from the cup to blow on his face.

It’s rare for me to see him with the appearance of being unable to lift up his spirits like this, and I truly can’t help but frown.

MC: Why is it that the first thing you do after getting off the plane is coming back to the office, and not give yourself even a day of sick leave?

Before Victor can say anything, his phone sitting on the table starts vibrating.

I look at the lock screen illuminated by the light. Surprisingly, it really is that picture of “Working-class people, working-class soul” I have given him earlier.

Victor ignores the phone, and lowers his head to drink two sips of the indigowoad roots.

Victor: There are two more meetings in the evening, and the time was fixed already a long time ago.

The implication is that, it’s not happening.

My very soul is shaken: When the capitalists work with all their might like this, what qualifications do I have to not make great efforts.

MC: ....If this segment of yours is included in the show, LFG’s stock price will have to rise by at least three limit ranges.

Victor casts his everyday speechless expression at me. Judging from this reaction, it must have gotten a little bit slower due to the dizzy state he has been in just a moment ago.

I set my heart down, and shove my both hands inside the pockets of my coat.

MC: If you’re all right, I’ll go on and continue to keep an eye on the progress. There are throat-smoothening lozenges in that medicine bag. Remember to take them if your throat feels uncomfortable.

Victor nods, and as soon as I turn my head, he picks up the phone.

MC: Remember—

I suddenly recall when I have walked to the door, and smile at him as I lean against the crack of the door.

MC: To drink plenty of hot water!

◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──

[ SECTION 4 ]

Today’s filming goes on till 10 o’clock, and wraps up without a hitch.

I heard Goldman say that Victor���s meeting has also adjourned about at this same time. I buy some food for him and bring them over. As expected, he really hasn’t eaten again.

He is probably tired, and doesn’t hold it against my meddling in other people’s business, nor does he mock my poor order.

Just as I have set the four dishes on the coffee table, he then picks up the chopsticks on his own.

MC: Chicken, fish, less salt, less oil, and high protein.

MC: How’s this? This sick meal is still not bad, right? [1]

Without making any assessment, Victor picks up the rice, and tastes two bites in order to show his affirmation.

Victor: How’s the filming of the show coming along?

MC: Surprisingly good.

When the topic of the interns who participated in the filming of the show is raised, I don’t know how am I supposed to praise them.

MC: Kids nowadays can be extremely quick-witted. They learn things both fast and well, and are also very savvy about interpersonal relationships....

MC: Each one of them are standard template for the business elite.

MC: There is this one intern who came to LFG on the first day, and the department manager called him to write a summary on the conference....

MC: He said straightforwardly that he didn’t know how to do it, and requested for someone to teach him.

MC: And at that time, we were even talking about it encircling behind the monitor.

MC: If it were up to the conventional thinking, the audience surely would have thought that he’d be stifling, be scarlet red in the face and enter the conference room trembling in fear.

MC: In the end, not only did he not have any of those, but was even very frank with his approach. This kind of self-confidence is too rare.

Victor suddenly laughs while eating.

Victor: Do you think they are all just like you?

MC: ....What’s wrong with me!

Victor: Always preferring to buff your way out.

MC: Am not!

Even if I really have, it was also a long time ago. Things are very different now.

MC: Anyway, not....

Victor is still smiling. His smile makes me feel that these few clearly light and bland dishes must be very tasty indeed.

Victor: Considering your opinion, they all possibly will get the offer smoothly?

MC: Of course.

MC: Trust me. They are all excellent. You were able to attract such a group of youngsters towards LFG, and have made the profit!

MC: And also after the show is broadcast, it will be a good thing for LFG’s publicity aspect too.

MC: Didn’t you say earlier that LFG’s Strategic Development Department wants to set up an image of high professionalism in the public’s eyes?

Victor: Since you are this set on heart about LFG’s future, you should be brought along to future meetings of the Strategic Development Department.

Victor: And give you the title of external consultant.

MC: I’ll come if I’m given the wages.

Hearing him speak in a voice a little more hoarse than in the afternoon, I think and know as well that he has spoken a lot during the meetings again. I get up to pour him a cup of hot water.

Victor doesn’t say anything, and carefully eats the food. Not a moment later, my phone rings out abruptly.

Kiki: Boss— I’ve something to ask you. How many minutes in total is the pilot episode going to run?

MC: Half an hour or so, I think. Take a look at the source material in use.

MC: ....Are you still at the office? It’s already half past ten. Didn’t I say you can take an early break today to rest.

Kiki: Alright, I’ll go back immediately. Boss, you should call it an early night too.

Victor puts down the bowl and chopsticks, and leisurely wipes his lips while shooting me an alarming glance.

Victor: It’s so late already. You’re not off work either.

Victor: And you still call someone else a workaholic?

[ Note: The phrase used here is “人家” (rén jia) which can be translated to other people/someone else. But it’s also used to referring “oneself” as “people/someone.” So basically here, Victor is saying how MC calls him a workaholic LOL. Similar to how the “a certain someone” phrase is often used in their conversation. ]

◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──

[ SECTION 5 ]

I stare at Victor, and sigh in a manner as though I want to say something but am hesitating.

MC: But I came here to bring you dinner in the spirit of dedication based on “It is everyone’s duty to take care of the Boss.”

MC: Did you just classify this as autonomous overtime activity?

I hold out my hand towards him.

MC: How about you pay for the overtime?

Victor shoots me a glance, and simply purses his lips with a faint smile.

Victor: I don’t know if I can afford to pay the charges of the gold medal producer.

I laugh along with him, and raise my eyebrows imitating the way he usually does.

MC: If you can’t afford to pay, I can give you a discount.

As we are talking, Kiki sends me a rough cut of the video that’s going to be used in the pilot. I place my phone on the coffee table, and turn it in an angle that both Victor and I can see.

MC: Just in time. Let’s have a little look at the clip of the show with dinner.

This segment happens to be the scene when the interns were being interviewed.

At first glance, they all appear to be business elites clad in suits and with boundless prospects. But the tension in between waiting during the intervals is entirely visible to the unaided eye.

....Also there was a young girl, as a result of being too keyed-up, she even decided to memorize a piece of English text to loosen up for a while.

I watch with keen interest, and Victor looks at my gaze with keen interest.

Their expression and state of affairs– immediately makes me evoke all of that scene in one go, that time back then, when I stood in front of Victor.

Victor: What’s on your mind that you’re so engrossed in watching?

MC: Don’t you have a sense of resonance? Weren’t you like this when you were young?

Just as expected, Victor gives an expression of “Of course not.”

....Is the world so enormously uneven?

Victor bores through two more segments anyway, and the video happens to be onto the time when the interns were receiving their written notice of the internship prepared by the program team.

MC: Yesterday Anna discussed with me that this pilot segment is intended for setting up the keynotes for the show, and in what pattern the character are written here is very important.

MC: What we are thinking about at the moment is— Beginning from here on out, may we all have a luminous and sparkling future ahead of us with boundless prospects.

MC: What do you think?

Victor has been titling his head to the side throughout as he listens to my words, showing no expression of evaluation.

Victor: About what exactly to do on your shows, don’t you usually ask for less of my specific opinions?

I tap pause on the video, and the frame rests on the glass window outside the LFG building, reflecting off the blue sky and white clouds.

MC: This time it’s different. This group of youngsters are from LFG.

MC: You’ve worked so hard in creating LFG to have a platform so bright and beautiful....

MC: Isn’t it just in the hope that even more people will find broader future here.

Victor’s gaze remains calm and collected, and a smile has been gracing the corners of his lips all along.

It’s already very late at night. Seeing that Victor has also had his fill, I tidy up the coffee table at once, get up and gesture at him.

MC: Let’s go CEO. Time to get off work.

MC: I’ll drive you home.

Victor is clearly taken aback for a moment.

Victor: You’ll drive me?

I nod boldly and self-righteously.

MC: Goldman got off work already at an earlier time, and also greeted me just before leaving. You’ve taken the cold medicine tonight. I’m driving, okay.

Victor: ....

◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──

[ SECTION 6 ]

My car is parked directly opposite the elevator. As soon as Victor steps out of the elevator, he walks straight over to the backseat, pulls open the car door, and hops in without saying a word.

I fasten my seatbelt in the driver’s seat, and can’t help from glancing over at the back seat.

MC: CEO Victor, generally speaking.... at times like this, you should be taking the passenger seat.

Victor looks down at his phone without even lifting his head for a bit.

Victor: I’m not used to with sitting in the passenger seat. [2]

MC: ....Fine.

After all, he is the CEO. It makes sense that he has never sat in the passenger seat before.

I suddenly recall the app-based taxi guidance, and repeat them without missing a word.

MC: Our trip is about to begin. Please fasten your seatbelt. Is the temperature inside the car fairly appropriate?

This time, Victor lifts up his head to look at me, his eyes laced with very obvious confusion.

Evidently, the CEO has almost never taken a taxi either.

Overjoyed, I drive the car out of the parking lot, then immediately lower half the car window, letting the unrestrained sweet night breeze of spring to blow in.

Victor hasn’t said anything all the way, typing down messages on his phone from time to time.

Halfway through the journey, Victor puts the phone back in his pocket, leans back in the seat and looks outside window, laughing in a lazy manner as though soliloquizing.

Victor: You are the person I know, who very rarely let me set down my work to rest.

I think back carefully— in fact, that was not the case. It’s just not in his memory.  *[ clutches chest ]*

But now, it really isn’t my habit to speak up too much to persuade him into something. He has his own principles and reasons for everything he does....

MC: You won’t listen even if I said so anyway.

MC: Also.... work is a very important thing to you. I can understand that.

Half the side of Victor’s face is reflected on the dark tinted car window, and his eyes are casted towards me in alarm, within which are reflected the gorgeous neon lights of the city.

Victor: Does work have to be a very important thing?

The lights of the street lamps fall on the asphalt road. This road, carpeted with light, seems so far away that it doesn’t have an end.

MC: Mm.... work is a very important thing.

MC: Work is akin to flights of steps. By stepping up and standing in an even higher place, you can then do the things you want to do more.

MC: Perhaps back then, the CEO of LFG has also been just like these group of youngsters. Clad in a suit, standing at the starting point, and then he walked on his way to this day.

In the rearview mirror, Victor locks eyes with me meaningfully. This is an expression I’m familiar with, an expression that represents his tacit  understanding.

Victor: Earlier, did you want to have me attend the show’s press conference?

I pick up on the keynote, and hurriedly get my spirits up.

MC: You agreed!

Hearing my absolutely certain tone, Victor smiles faintly.

Victor: I haven’t said anything yet.

MC: I still have some of that sharp workplace acumen, and don’t need to be told everything by the CEO to get it right. I can understand the spirit on my own.

Victor doesn’t say anything anymore, and he lowers the car window too. Seeing the night breeze messing up the fringes in front of his forehead, I’ve originally wanted to speak up, and remind him that he’s unwell and should refrain from blowing the wind....

On a second thought I feel, the breeze is very comfortable and is worth blowing.

Especially after constantly running around for several days, and after finally ending a busy and tiring day.

It’s worth blowing a little breeze, and having a look at this resplendent city.

◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──

[ SECTION 7]

The press conference has been arranged at a hotel under the banner of LFG. Victor has been invited to attend, and he sits in the VIP area off the stage.

I’ve arranged the sequence of process in advance. The only thing he needs to consider is that going up on the stage– next, saying a few words to make an official speech, and that will suffice.

But today’s situation is comparatively lively, and the reporters are clearly very interested in LFG itself as well.

As soon as Victor comes up on the stage, there is constant applause, and the “click-click-click” sound of taking photos nearly overpowers the clamors of the tide of people.

The host has tried several times to ask Victor, who has already finished his speech and is getting off the stage, but couldn’t find the appropriate opportunity to do so. Thereupon, I cast an inquiring glance.

I’ve just got up, wanting to stop the reporters, but Victor lifts up his hand— which means is that, it’s fine.

Victor invites the reporters to ask questions one by one— in a manner that, he is in a very good mood today, and nobody will be refused.

Reporter: CEO Victor, is there any serious consideration behind LFG choosing to collaborate with this kind workplace related variety show?

Victor: There aren’t any serious considerations. We simply feel that, every one of the employees working at LFG are excellent, and they are worthy of being seen by everyone.

Reporter: Excuse me, CEO Victor, do you have anything to say to these young people who have become a member of LFG?

After glancing at me faintly, Victor once again looks towards the press box, and opens his mouth unhurriedly, uttering the words that I have said in front of him before.

Victor: I hope that they will set sail on their journey from LFG, and have a luminous and sparkling future with boundless prospects.

When the applause rings out, I suddenly realize that– I, too, have apparently set sail on my journey clumsily under Victor’s wings, and then slowly walked on my way to this day.

Regardless of the time, the LFG he has created, the doors of this tremendous business empire is wide open to all dreams, waiting for young people, waiting for everyone.

The letters “LFG” have long since not only been the bearer of Victor’s expectations and prospects alone.

After walking through the entire sequence of events, the press conference is officially concluded.

As soon as the hotel brings up the wine and food for the buffet, I immediately offer my eager attention to Victor, busying myself with choosing the champagne to bring over to him.

MC: Is CEO Victor fairly satisfied with this press conference?

Victor takes the wine glass in my hand, and gently raises his hand to gesture at me.

Victor: This is your show, as long as the producer is satisfied with it– that will do.

From my peripheral vision, I catch a glimpse of the interns in the show being huddled together, taking selfies against the signature board at the doorway, and am instantly struck by an idea.

MC: Victor, why don’t you wish me a future with boundless prospects too, and give me a blessing for good luck.

With one hand in his pocket, Victor turns his head to look at me.

Victor: You’re already very luminous and sparkling. Do you still need to ask for this kind of blessing for good luck?

MC: The more the better.

A smear of smile hangs across the side of Victor’s lips, and he even mulls it over for a while.

Victor: In that case, I wish that you.... can always sparkle luminously, at all times.

I’m able to intuitively grasp a little bit of the implied meaning within his words. Accordingly, I draw closer to Victor.

MC: Just like you?

Victor slightly lowers his eyes to regard me, his gaze- carrying within them a smile lands on my face.

Victor: If you want to, you can.

◇──◆──◇

[ EXTRA TIDBITS: ]

[1] - MC is referring to the time Victor was in hospital in CH 4.

[2] - Victor mentions this event during the car tampering incident of CH 10, when MC told him that he’d get penalty for running the red light, and he replies with- that it’s fine cause he has a driver LOL.

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