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night-fallz · 4 years ago

Text

XY’s Muse

Based on this prompt

Like I have stated before, this is my first fanfic. Please let me know what you think of it. Any kind of criticism will be welcome.

uploaded on 01/23/21

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Ao3 // Wattpad

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Chapter 2

XY was staring at the ceiling. A week has already passed. And he still couldn't stop thinking about the day he spent with Marinette. It was the most fun he'd had in a while.

Before the whole Silencer fiasco, his father would not stop pressuring him to produce a new song. So when they met up for dinner and his dad came up with the idea of stealing someone else's music, he couldn’t bring himself to decline.

XY knew it was wrong.

But all he wanted was the chance to finally impress his dad. Bob Roth might not have the best attitude towards him, but he was all XY had left.

Xy already lost his mom. He would not lose his dad too.

At least, that's what he believed. He should've known that his father was just using him for money. According to his dad, money was the most valuable thing in life.

XY scoffed. He should've known better. He should've known that all his father thought of hi-

He felt a buzz in his pocket and his face immediately brightened. Marinette just texted him!

Marinette: what's up?

Marinette: have u been inspired yet?

Marinette gave XY the idea to just sit back and let inspiration hit him. It was a common idea but it was one that most people tend to forget in the long run.

XY: nothing much

XY: and nope.

XY: my dad has been pressuring me to come up with something tho

Marinette: ignore him

Marinette: he's just mad cause he can't get any ladies

The three dots popped up on his screen.

Marinette: OH CRAP I'M LATE

Marinette: TTYL.

XY rolled his eyes and smiled.

They've been texting back and forth these past few days. He's learned so many things about her and vice versa.

It was nice. It's been a while since XY has had a friend.

Maybe she'll be even more, XY couldn’t help but think as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Huh," XY said out loud. "Even more"

And just like that, inspiration for his next song hit him.

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Marinette was thinking of a certain blonde-haired, blue-eyed musician when she heard her phone ring.

"Tikki!" she screamed, staring at her phone as if it was Hawkmoth himself.. "He's calling me. XY is calling me."

Tikki sighed and floated next to Marinette, "Maybe you should answer it. It would be pretty rude to keep him waiting."

"Right, right," Marinette answered his call and hoped her voice didn’t sound as squeaky as she thought it did.. "Hey."

"Hey."

There was a moment of awkward silence.

Marinette didn’t know what to do. She glanced at the small goddess.

Tikki rolled her eyes at their awkwardness as she gestured to the phone. Ask him why he called you, she mouthed to Marinette.

Marinette nodded. That was a smart idea. "So," Marinette cleared her throat. "Why did you call me?"

"Right, Uhm." Marinette heard him shuffling around his room. "You know how you've been asking me if I was inspired and stuff?"

Marinette's eyes grew wide and a huge smile took over her face as she started to nod before remembering that he couldn't see her. "Yep." she eagerly said, "Did you find any?"

"Yes!" Marinette could hear the excitement in his voice. "I was actually wondering if you wanted to design the outfits for my music video."

Marinette's eyes looked shocked. "Yes!" she jumped around in excitement before remembering she was still in a call with XY. "Why me though?"

XY’s voice sounded confused.. "What do you mean, why you? You're literally perfect for it. You're talented. Plus, everyone loves your designs."

Marinette’s cheeks resembled a tomato. She has never been more thankful for the fact that he couldn't see her right now.

"Thank you." Marinette managed to mumble. "That really means a lot."

"You're welcome." XY said. Marinette had a feeling he was smiling though. "I have to go and have my dad listen to the demo. But I'll text you later, okay?"

"Yep," Marinette whispered and gave Tikki a cookie. "Good luck. I know that whatever song you came up with is gonna sound good. No matter what he'll say."

Marinette heard a faint "Thanks" from the phone before the call ended.

Marinette screamed into her pillow and looked up and saw Tikki look at her with amusement. “I think I like him.”

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"So, what do you think?" XY asked as his father finished listening to his song. "Is it bad? Do you think people will like it?"

Bob Roth grinned at his son. "This is a Masterpiece. Where did you find this?" He gestured to the video of XY singing the song, "Who did you steal this from?"

XY's proud smile immediately turned into a scowl. "What do you mean, who did I steal this from?" He yelled at his dad, his blue eyes glaring at him as he grabbed the demo from the table. "I made it. I came up with it myself." XY felt his eyes tearing up. "Something you would actually know if you thought of me as something more than a money-making machine."

How could he? XY thought as he climbed up the stairs. Is it that hard to believe that I could come up with something good?

XY slammed his door shut. "All I wanted was to prove to him that I wasn't a talentless son." XY put his hands on his face. "I just wanted to make him proud."

XY felt a buzz in his pocket and immediately knew that it was Marinette. After all, she’s the only one that ever texts him.

Marinette: how did it go?

Marinette: did he like it?

XY wiped away the tears that were starting to come out of his eyes. He couldn't help but smile. Marinette certainly had an effect on him.

XY: he called it a masterpiece

Marinette: yes! I knew he would like it.

XY: yeah

XY: but then he asked me who i stole it from

Marinette: THAT JERK

Marinette: WTF

Marinette: THAT's SO MESSED UP

Marinette: HOW COULD HE-

Marinette: DO YOU WANT ME TO BEAT HIM UP FOR YOU????

XY laughed at her text messages. He only started to text her and he already felt better.

XY: no, it's fine

XY: i actually yelled at him

Marinette: ...

Marinette: do you feel better?

XY: actually, yep.

XY: he's a really sucky father

Marinette: for some reason, a lot of the blondes i know have a toxic parent

Marinette: it's kinda sad

XY: maybe it's a paris thing

They texted back and forth, XY laughing at the memes Marinette sent.

XY: You're definitely a daughter of Athena

Marinette: ( ⚆ _ ⚆ )

Marinette: is that a percy jackson reference i see

XY: yep

XY: have u read the books?

Marinette: duh

Marinette: you haven't lived til you've read the books

Marinette: sadly, the movies sucked tho

XY: I KNOW

XY: ANNABETH WASN'T EVEN BLONDE

Marinette: EXACTLY!!

Marinette: SJSJSJSJSJSJ

Marinette: THE MOVIES SCARED ME FOR LIFE

XY: oh yeah

XY: before i forget

XY: what's ur insta?

Marinette: which one

XY scrunched his eyebrows up in confusion.

XY: What do you mean by which one?

Marinette: i have two

Marinette: one as my personal one and the other one for commissions and stuff

XY: ohhh

XY: smart

Marinette: i know ;)

Marinette: my personal one is @Mdupaincheng and the one for my commissions one if @MDCdesigns

XY switched his apps and searched up Marinette's personal instagram. He clicked on the first result that came up.

The profile picture was Marinette in a blue, silky dress that went just above her ankle. There was a slit on her left leg that showed her knee. It was nighttime and Marinette was practically glowing under the city lights. She was staring at something on her right side, with one hand running through her silky black hair which was down for once.

She looked hot.

After XY stopped admiring her profile picture, he finally noticed her follower count.

She had 200,000 followers. 200,000.

It wasn't as high as XY's follower count, that was still quite a lot.

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XY: i didn't know u were insta famous

Marinette: wdym?

Marinette: which acc

XY: ur personal one

XY: u have over 200k followers

Marinette thought that she read his text wrong. There's no way that Marinette had that many followers. 200,000? There was no way.

Marinette: ur lying

XY: I'm not.

XY: check ur acc

It's been a while since Marinette has logged onto her personal account. The hate she got the last time she's been signed in was too much for her and when Alya told her to log out and just focus on her other account, @MDCdesigns, she couldn't bring herself to argue against her.

Marinette hasn't even thought of that account since that day. So when she logged in and saw that XY wasn't lying, she accidentally dropped her phone in shock.

Tikki looked at Marinette with a questioning look.

Marinette ignored her kwami and texted the blue-eyes boy back.

Marinette: HOLY SHIT

Marinette: I HAVE 200k FOLLOWERS

Marinette: HOW TF DID THAT HAPPEN

XY: when was the last time you checked ur acc

Marinette: about 3 months ago

Marinette: the media thought i was adrien's gf and his fangirls came at me

Marinette: i got a ton of hate and a friend of mine told me to log out and just focus on my @MDCdesigns acc

Marinette: so i did

Marinette: i haven't thought abt that acc since then

XY: the fangirls were probably just jealous

XY: it's been months so they probably calmed down

XY: I'm looking through the comments rn and so far the latest hate comment you've got was about 2 weeks ago

XY: you've got a bit of a fanbase yk

Marinette: WHAT DO I DO

Marinette: DO I JUST CONTINUE NOT TO POST OR SHOULD I POST SOMETHING ON MY STORY ABT HOW THANKFUL I AM FOR 200k

Marinette: HOW COME NONE OF MY FRIENDS TOLD ME ABT THIS

XY: don't post anything rn

XY: post a picture of yourself and the caption it something that shows ur thankful for the number of followers u received

XY: OH

XY: a few hours before u post the picture, make sure u post on ur story abt how ur back from ur break on social media

XY: that way ppl will understand why u haven't been active

XY: it'll also have ppl prepared for ur post and they'll be waiting for u to post it

XY: that'll give u more engagement and stuff

Marinette: thank u

Marinette: that was really helpful

Marinette: when should i post something?

Marinette: AND I STILL DONT KNOW WHY MY FRIENDS DIDNT SAY ANYTHING ABT THIS

XY: u told ur friend that u were taking a break from social media right?

Marinette: yes

XY: then they probably weren't expecting u to post anything so they weren't checking ur insta

XY: u should post something on the weekend

XY: that way ppl wouldn't bother u during school this week

XY: if u want i can help u come up with ideas tomorrow?

Marinette: yes, please!

Marinette: do u wanna come over

Marinette: we can plan it in my room so that ppl won't overhear us

XY: guess I'll see u tomorrow then

XY: just text me the time ur available and I'll be there

Marinette: make sure to wear a disguise tho!

Marinette: we got lucky last time and no tabloids caught us

XY: ur right

XY: we must've been really lucky if no one got a pic of us

XY: but okay

XY: I'll wear my best disguise

XY: goodnight, princess

Marinette blinked a few times, making sure she read the text correctly.

Princess.

Marinette: goodnight ♥

previous II next

This is the first chapter of the story. Please let me know what you think

1,967 words

Tag list:

@iglowinggemma28 @mica-aa @lady-bee-fechin @maskedpainter @snnoww26 @ravenr22 @spiritofchaoticdreams @ravennm84 @heaven428 @finn-cipher @peterxwade24 @aliceofice22 @queenamongthorns @captainmac6

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chim-chimchii · 4 years ago

Text

Gravity (Jooheon)

Genre: Fluff, King Jooheon

Word Count: 1,447

Note: This was requested and I had written it awhile back but I was getting so frustrated with myself because I wasn’t liking anything that I wrote but I’m so thankful that I cleared my mind and decided to work on it again. Fantasy/fairytale requests are my favorite to write about. I hope you guys enjoy this and feedback is appreciated! Requests are currently open!

Set the Mood: Gravity by Jung Jin Woo or Jimin, Tae, Jin and Jungkooks BTS World theme songs.

. . . . . . .

The crown that rested on Jooheon's head was a solemn reminder that he would officially be King by the end of the night. The pressure to find a suitable bride and produce an heir had begun. His parents and the royal advisor had been throwing princess after princess at him since the celebration began. Only now, when he had excused himself to the restroom, he could catch a breath. Jooheon stood at the balcony that overlooked the party and watched as all the guests mingle. He wondered if any of them shared the thought of the party ending under strange circumstances. He shook his head to rid himself of the idea and continued to people-watch.

The scene continued to remain the same until a familiar person slipped through a side door. It was clear they were hoping to enter unnoticed, but Jooheon saw her.

His eyes widened. "It can't be."

Taking the steps two at a time, Jooheon descended the balcony hastily. His heart was beating in anticipation, and as he neared his destination, he slowed his pace to calm his breathing. Once his breathing was under control, he stepped up to the familiar girl.

"Y/n?"

Not only did you turn towards his voice, but everyone nearby did as well. Jooheon's chest tightened at the sight of you. He remembered all the summers the two of you had spent together as children. Your eyes still sparkled the same.

"Jooheon, long time no see."

Without warning, Jooheon found himself engulfing you in a hug. After getting over the initial shock, you relaxed in his arms. Your grip on him loosened as you pulled away gently; he tried not to look too upset. It was the whispers and murmurs that made him realize why you let go of him. The two of you weren't kids anymore; that sort of affection was looked down upon. Jooheon glanced around at the others; he wore a severe expression, and almost immediately, they turned away from him. His gaze softened when it fell back onto you.

"How have you been?" He was eager for you to fill him in on everything since the last time he saw you, which was years ago.

You smiled. "Things could be worse, but what about you? How does it feel to be King?"

A blush crept onto his cheeks; he rolled his eyes teasingly. "Technically, it isn't officially until midnight. I might run away tonight."

Both of you shared a laugh at the inside joke. The guests stared inquisitively at Jooheon specifically to see if he was serious. His grin faded, and he mentally scolded himself for speaking without thinking.

"Come on." You took his hand and led him out of the ballroom and into the garden.

"I forget just how many people hang onto my every word now that I'm to be King."

"You said it yourself; nothing is official until midnight. Whatever you say, you say as a Prince and not a King." You gave him an earnest smile.

Thanks to the moon, your eyes twinkled more than usual. He was stuck staring into your eyes that he didn't notice he was still holding onto your hand until you slipped away. You strolled on the path a few steps ahead of him and admired the flowers that caught everyone's attention when they entered the garden. He stood back with a smile on his face and thanked the heavens for bringing you to him. The lowlight coming from the windows of the ballroom made your features appear softer than they already were, it was like he was looking at the small girl he used to play hide and seek with, but when you turned to speak to him, he was reminded that the two of you were older now.

Though appearances changed, feelings didn't. He felt the same yearning that he felt the last day you were together. Jooheon would like to say that it was no one's fault that the two of you had to go your separate ways, but Jooheon knew deep in his heart that it was his fault. Being the only son, he had been forced to grow up faster to ensure his claim to the throne. So that meant his time spent with you was always pushed to the side until they just stopped occurring.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Your soft voice and tender touch snapped him out of his thoughts.

"I've missed you so much." The words left his mouth without hesitation. It shocked not only him but you too.

"I've missed you too, Jooheon." You looped your arm with his and continued the stroll with your head resting on his bicep, stopping under the weeping willow in the garden's middle.

The two of you would lay under the tree's shade, and with every breeze, the long tendrils would tickle your noses. It was a fond memory that Jooheon held close to his heart. That was the last day he saw you, and he tried so hard to get the courage to kiss you. He thought that if he kissed you, the two of you would be together forever. That was all he ever wanted.

The weeping willow's leaves were so long that Jooheon had to spread them like a curtain to get to the tree's base. It would have been almost pitch black if it weren't for Jooheon's mother insisting on stringing lights with the leaves to make it more enchanting.

Jooheon shuffled behind you nervously, trying to find the right way to ask you to dance without looking like a fool since the music was faint. Since forever, he had known you, so why was it so hard to ask you this simple question? Was it because he wasn't looking at you like a girl but as a woman? Did you see him as a man and not the goofy boy you once knew?

"Jooheon?" You called out to him again, your eyebrows knitted in concern.

With a deep breath, he decided it was now or never. "Y/n, do you want to dance?" He held his hand out for you to hopefully take it, and when you did, he felt as if he was being transported back to simpler days.

"I thought you'd never ask." You made your way to him and let him hold you close.

"I'm sorry we lost contact." He whispered in your ear after a moment of silence. You pressed your cheek against his chest.

"It's not your fault. We have responsibilities thanks to our titles."

"I wonder how different things could have been if I had stayed in contact." He spun you around slowly and admired how beautiful you looked in your gown.

"Nothing has changed for me." You answered once you were close to him again.

"Some things must have changed for you." He pressed on, hoping you would open up to him like before.

"When you have two older brothers, You have to wait your turn to see how your life is going to turn out."

Jooheon nodded, and even though it was a solemn reality, you still smiled about it.

"Y/n, I need to get some things off my chest."

"Of course, go ahead." You looked at him with a kind expression.

"I know I said a lot of things have changed in my life, but there is one thing that hasn't."

Jooheon paused, his heart was racing, and he was sure that you could probably feel it by how close you were.

"I realize now that I can't keep thinking that change is bad. I need to stop wishing life stayed the way it was all those years ago, because now that you're here and I see that not only did you change and grow into the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, but I've grown and changed too. And even though earlier I was so scared of accepting my title as King, now that you're here, I don't want to be without you. I don't want to go through this alone."

The dancing stopped, and the music faded into the background.

"I love you, and I've always loved you ever since we were young. I didn't do anything before, but I'm doing something about it now. And I'm saying this as a King, not a prince. I love you, and I want you by my side forever." He caressed your cheek and pressed his lips to yours. You kissed back right away, which eased his nervousness.

The kiss lasted a few moments longer until you pulled away ever so slightly to say the words he had been yearning to hear for a long time.

"I love you too, Jooheon."

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ibelieveinharrystyles · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter Eight: A Whole New World

Forever? Masterlist

16th January 2017 “Harry what do I wear?” Ashley asked her best friend bluntly from the other end of the phone as she riffled through her chaotically messy wardrobe.

“You woke me up at five in the morning to ask me what you should wear? I thought something serious had happened.” Harry mumbled, his head resting comfortably on his pillow.

“Harry this is a very important day, I need to look the part.”

“Ash, you do know it’s radio, no one is going to see you.” Harry assured her, “But if you want my advice, wear the red roll neck jumper, with those ripped black jeans and Doc Martens.”

“I knew I could count on you Harry.” she sighed.

“I hope it goes well today love.”

“So do I,” she sighed, before proceeding to hang up the phone.

The tube was eerily quiet compared to Ashley’s usual journey to work, when she worked in the office her shift was 8 till 4, meaning hitting rush hour was inevitable, but getting to work for before 6AM meant an early tube, dropping Daisy off at the childminders on the way. Ashley was grateful that her journey was now somewhat more bearable, even despite the early wake up time, the only other commuters were those travelling in to the city for early starting jobs, and the people who had got drunk the night before and had spent the whole night asleep, travelling the whole length of the northern line. She hurried through the empty tube station, making sure not to be late. In an attempt to make a good impression on her fellow colleagues she stopped off at a nearby bakery that had just opened for the early morning rush, picking up a variation of croissants, pastries and donuts.

Ashley hadn’t felt intimidated by the Capital FM offices since the day she started the internship, she hurried through, most desks were empty as the majority of people didn’t start work until what was deemed a more ‘sociable’ hour of the day. “Morning Ash, how are you feeling?” Roman greeted her as she entered the office kitchen, placing the box of pastries on the side, and continuing to make herself a cup of tea.

“Nervous, but in a good way I guess,” Ashley told him, taking a bite on a pain au chocolat.

“You’re going to be great, I’ll make sure to ease you into it, I’ll introduce you and you can talk as and when you feel comfortable, there’s no pressure, I promise.” Roman assured her, picking a croissant from the box, “The big bosses have also said can we call you Ash when we are on air? Something about coming across as more relatable.”

“Sure, everyone I’m close to calls me that anyway, I mean you’ve called me that ever since I have worked here.”

“That’s great, you have about fifteen minutes to sort yourself out before we go live,” He explained.

“Alright Ro, cheers,”

“Good morning, you are listening to the Capital Breakfast show on a wonderful, yet slightly murky Monday morning, with me Roman Kemp, and for the first time, my new co-host Ash Hanson.” Roman chimed, resulting in cheers and woops from the producers and tech team who were present in the studio, “Ash, I’ll let you introduce yourself.”

“I’m Ash. I've worked at capital for about a year now. I'm originally from the North of England, and most people probably know me for being good friends with a curly haired member of a little British boy band, who you might have heard of.” Somehow talking about Harry and the band made her nerves disappear.

“So Ash, can I assume that with you being so close to the One Direction boys, you have a few stories that would make the lives of me and my fellow One Direction fans a lot better?” Roman asked her.

“I won’t lie I’ve seen a lot, particularly at the after parties, but they are all sound lads, there’s some stuff I probably can’t tell you on air, because frankly I wouldn’t be surprised if at least one of them is listening.” Ashley told him.

“And obviously we’ve heard a bit of solo stuff from Zayn, Louis and Niall, if you had to pick one of the boys based on their solo music who would you choose?” Roman asked.

“That is a tough one, I think based on what we’ve heard so far, I’d have to say Niall.”

“Well on that One Direction related note, here’s This Town, on Capital Breakfast.” Roman said, before flicking a switch that meant their voices were no longer heard on air.

“Was that alright?” Ashley asked, taking a quick swig of her water.

“You’re doing great, you’ve got the knack of it already.”

“Taxi for Miss Hanson.” Ashley looked up as she exited Capital, seeing an all too familiar Audi parked outside, Harry stood leant against it, wearing a black trench coat over a grey hoodie and black skinny jeans, with a pair of sunglasses on top of his head to push back his messy hair.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, approaching her best friend.

“Can’t I pick up my best friend after her first day of her new job?” He asked, crossing his arms across his chest.

“It’s lovely of you to come down here, I just wasn’t expecting it, that's all.”

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“I mean I guess I wouldn’t say no.”

“Good, because you need to line your stomach.” Harry explained, as the pair of them climbed into his car.

“Why’s that?” she asked.

“We’re going out tonight.”

“There are two major factors that go against that Styles,” She told him, “Firstly I have a six month old daughter who is far too young to be left home alone, secondly I have work first thing in the morning.”

“Firstly, Daisy is going to have a sleepover at Auntie Gemma’s house, Secondly, you can stay in my spare bedroom, I’ll drive you to work in the morning.”

“What am I going to wear? I’ve spent the last year in tracksuit bottoms.”

“Well after our brunch, we’re going to Oxford Street to get you a new outfit.” Harry explained, parking up outside The Ivy.

“What’s all this in aid of?” Ashley asked, leaning her head back against the headrest.

“You Ashley Hanson, need to get laid.” Harry smirked.

“When did you reach that conclusion?”

“Well you aren’t coming to America for my birthday, so I thought we’d celebrate early, and I could wingman you.”

“Why don’t we try and get you laid instead?” Ashley insisted.

“Oh darling, I do not need any help in that department.”

“I’m so happy for you Harry, but frankly I’m not at a point in my life where getting laid is something I want to do, Daisy is my main priority.”

“Can we at least go out for my birthday tonight? Pretty please?” Harry asked, looking at her and fluttering his eyelashes.

“Alright! But I want to go to a nice bar, not some mad club.”

“It’s a deal.”

“Are you sure about this Harry?” Ashley asked, looking herself up and down in the full length mirror in Harry’s bathroom.

“We’re going to have a great time.” Harry assured her from his bedroom, next door to the bathroom.

““You really think this looks okay?” Ashley asked, entering Harry's bedroom, she had gone for a black glittery bodycon dress paired with red heels.

“You look beautiful,” Harry told her, taken aback by his best friend who stood before him.

“I’m not sure about this dress, I’ve still got mum tum from when I was pregnant, and my boobs haven’t been the same since I started breastfeeding.” Ashley sighed, shrugging off the fact that Harry calling her beautiful made her stomach flutter.

“Love you wouldn’t even know you had given birth six months ago, and there is nothing wrong with your boobs,” Harry assured her.

“Have you been looking at my boobs Styles?” Ashley questioned, turning to look at her friend.

“Taxi’s here.” Harry replied, making a quick exit downstairs.

As promised Harry took Ashley to a swanky North London bar, the sort that you could only get into if you were well known, and with Harry being Harry, that was easy. Ashley and Harry’s previous attempts at nights out hadn’t ever really ended well, there was the night out in LA when the paparazzi gave Ashley a hard time, and Harry had to effectively cover her, and there was Ashley’s 18th, which resulted in a fight between Ashley and a fan. “Why are we here Harry?” Ashley asked him, taking a sip of her pornstar martini.

“To celebrate my birthday obviously.” Harry replied.

“I mean you’re Harry Styles, you could take literally anyone for drinks, but you chose me, a single mum, who lives in a one bedroom flat in South London and most of the time has either baby sick or milk on my clothes.”

“I didn’t want to take literally anyone out, you’re my best friend, you always have been, you always will be, I find it hard to trust people Ash, I’ve been screwed over by so many people who want to be friends with Harry the celebrity, not Harry from Holmes Chapel who would rather spend the night in watching a cheesy romcom than go to some overly prestigious party, and I’ve never had to worry about that when it comes to you,” Harry explained.

It was almost midnight when they arrived back at Harry's, both of them feeling a little bit tipsy from the several cocktails they had consumed, “Ash, lets dance,” Harry took hold of his best friend’s hand, leading her into the kitchen.

“Harry, I have work in like six hours,” Ashley whined.

“Please, if it was my actual birthday we would be dancing together,” Harry begged, holding both of Ashley’s hands in his.

“Alright one song, then I’m going to bed.” Harry opened his phone shuffling his music, the first song that blared out of his surround sound was Still The One by Shania Twain, Harry took hold of Ashley, one hand on her waist whilst he used his free hand to hold her hand, the pair swayed along to the song, Ashley’s head resting against Harry’s chest, breathing in the smell of his aftershave mixed with the alcohol from the cocktails he had drunk. Ashley smiled up at her friend, his smile beamed back at her, edging his face closer to hers, their lips mere millimetres apart, she knew exactly what was about to happen, “No Harry, we don’t do that, you’re drunk.” She stepped back from his embrace.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s fine, I’ll see you in the morning,” she muttered before quickly exiting the kitchen.

“I meant it, I am sorry.”

“Good night Harry.”

#harry styles #one direction #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #one direction memes #harry styles one shot #harry styles best friend fic #harry styles blurb

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pink-hao · 5 years ago

Text

Love Me Right ~ p.cy

word count: 3.6k

warnings: really marshmallow, kinda angsty???, idefk

masterlist

It doesn’t feel right, waking up in a queen sized bed alone. The void feeling in your chest as you look out the little window where the distant sun peers through. He used to lay on the right side of the bed, head digging into his flattened out pillow with one hand on it and the other around your waist. You could swear you still feel his fingers wrapped around you, his faint snores that were quieted by the cushion under him. He loved the gray bed covers, and at one point you did too, but now they’re simply a sign of what used to be. It’s a quarter to 8 in the morning when you finally rise from your spot on the bed and go into the bathroom.

The hot shower is burning your skin, but it’s a particulary numb morning. As you rub the remnants of sleep from your eyes you dwell once again on the fact that it has been exactly 4 months since you broke up. Sometimes, you really hate being an idol. Your whole life is put on display and critiqued by everyone. Who cares if someone doesn’t love your boyfriend? You did, wasn’t that enough? But no, the fans hated you together. They didn’t think Chanyeol and you were “a good match.” Who were they to judge who your match was? They don’t know you like he did, don’t know him like you did. It was all so unfair and stupid.

You got out of the shower when the water began to shift to an uncomfortably cooler temperature, continuing on with your morning routine and getting dressed to head over to practice. Your comeback is soon and now is more stressful than ever, learning all the dances for your songs and creating the music videos. The pressure is on this comeback, especially for you, because I helped write and produce the main track on the album and you really hope the fans like it. When you walk into the practice room today, the girls are already there waiting. The eight girls turn their heads and shuffle over to your side of the room, and before you know it, you’re being engulfed in a large yet tight group hug.

“We know about today, babe. It’s okay to let it out if you have to.” said the eldest, Sun-Mi unnie.

“You’re a super strong girl, unnie! You got this!” said maknae ChaeHee.

“FIGHTING!” spoke your best friend, Minah. She was the first person that knew about you breakup with Chanyeol and she stuck by your side, letting you cry on her shoulder or sleep in her bed when you were alone. All eight girls are a family to you, but Minah is definetly your closest sister.

“Maybe today won’t be as bad as you think it could be.” she continued.

“We’ve been invited to a party! And I think we should go! It will help us loosen up and shake off our nerves for this comeback.” said Rosamie.

“A party?,” you wondered nervously. “I don’t know about a party today unless you could count me alone on the couch watching Netflix as a party. Of one.”

“Come on,” Minah stressed, tugging on your hand. “If you let this get the best of you now, how will you be in 6 months, a year, 2 years? Still miserable? You can’t let this pull you back, my love. Come with us, just tonight?” she exclaimed with a cute pouty face.

You looked down at your red worn-out converse highs. She was right, you can’t be so weak as to let a breakup get in the way of living your life. Even though the breakup was with the best boyfriend you could ever ask for and you totally and obviously regret doing it in the first place. With that said, you decided to just try your best to forget about it all in one.

“I guess we’re going out tonight?” you questioned, the smallest of smiles creeping up on your face as well as everyone else’s.

“That’s my girl!” Nya, your leader, shouted.

“See? We all knew that you were strong!” said Minah as she pulled you into another embrace.

“Heck yea little mama we bouta get wasted tonight bitches! HAH!” said our maknae.

“Excuse me? I didn’t hear that right, did I?” said Sun-Mi unnie. If looks could kill, ChaeHee would be six feet under right now. And with that, she dashed out of the practice room with Sun-Mi unnie following close behind and left seven girls laughing their asses off at the sight in front of them.

“I’m nervous.”

“Why?” Minah chortled while helping you with your eyeliner.

“Who’s going to be there? I haven’t been to a party since we were together.” you sighed looking down at your black heels.

“Not too many people, but it’s still a pretty formal get together. Tonight’s event doesn’t exactly scream ‘vans and ripped jeans,’ but it’s not too bad.” she explained. You looked in the mirror at what you had on. A sparkly black dress with a stacked necklace and a light face of makeup. This isn’t exactly how you wanted to spend your Saturday night.

“You look great baby. Every guy in there is gonna have a hard time. Maybe you could relieve of that stress you got, you know?” she winked.

“Eww,” you giggled. “You know I’m not into that though,” you replied with a slight blush.

“Well, we’ll see. You haven’t seen the guys yet, right? The night is young, the booze will be there and so will we. For lack of better terms, let’s make this a night we will never remember. Or, one we’ll never forget? Depends on who you wake up next to.” she shrugged.

“How could you be so serious about this stuff?” you laughed. “You deadass just implied that the only thing you’ll remember from tonight will be the guy you may or may not get lucky with.”

“I’d bet you $20 you won’t get laid tonight,” she exclaimed, hands crossed over her chest.

“You know you’d win! I told you already, I don’t just sleep around.”

“Well what if you find someone you know?” she asked.

“I-“

There was a quick knock at the door and Nya came in with the smallest blue dress you’ve ever seen paired with black gladiator heels. Her now gray hair was curled slightly and makeup is done. Light, like yours, but still noticeable from the immense amount of highlight she always uses.

“Are you guys ready to go?” she asked quirking a perfectly arched eyebrow.

“Well, you seem eager. In more ways than one.” Minah tilted her head and took in all of Nya’s attire.

“What does that mean?” Nya asked, putting her hands on her hips, which somehow managed to make her already crazy short dress ride up even more.

“Not much, you just really put it all out there tonight, huh? Someone special coming to this little get together?” she smirked.

“Someone like Taeyong?” you smiled knowingly. Nya’s little crush on the leader of NCT wasn’t exactly hidden. And neither were his reciprocated feelings. “He’ll surely be the one having a ‘hard time’ tonight.”

“Oh shut it. Let’s just go,” she said with a small smile and flushed cheeks. Minah and you just looked at each other knowingly and got your stuff to go.

The room was hot and full of sweaty bodies by the time you arrived. Taeyong was the first to notice us, or Nya for that matter. While the rest of us got a quick hi, Nya got an all too friendly hug from the eager redhead. Here you are at the bar, looking over at the crowd of dancing idols, seeing some of them get very friendly with each other, a stark difference from how they act in the public eye. You wonder if you and Chanyeol came off like that at places like this. Before you got carried away with your thoughts, you felt a tapping on your shoulder.

“Somebody sitting here?” asked Jackson, one of your best friends.

“Jackson! Hey handsome, how are you? It’s been too long. How was your tour?” you asked, pulling him into an embrace.

“It was good. I love my fans and my group, but I need a drink right now. Want somethin’?” he asked, calling the bartender over.

“Uh, yea definitely. Patron please, make it a double.” you call out.

“Same for me,” he said to the guy. “Double? We stressin’ tonight? You got a comeback soon too, yea?” he wondered.

“Yep, and I wrote and produced the main track. Stress is an understatement in the feelings department right now.” you replied.

“Damn, and I guess it doesn’t help that you know who is here too, huh?” he asked with a guilty look.

“Wait, what? Who’s here?” you asked genuinely lost.

“Um, Chanyeol? he said half-confused, taking half his shot of Patron before putting it back down.

You felt like you were going to throw up. Did the girls know? Did everyone know but you? What if he was already with someone? What if you look like a fool, or a desperate bitch trying to get anyone you can now that he’s out of your hands? You took your shot and gulped it down, but realized the double wasn’t enough and grabed the remnants of Jackson’s drink.

“Woah. Slow down! We don’t want you passing out or worse, looking like a fool in front of everybody. You know, he-“

“Please, I don’t want to know. I’m sorry Jackson, I gotta get out of here like, right now. I’m sorry, tell the girls I left? Love you lots, let’s catch up one of these days.” And with that, you began weaving your way through the crowd of people. From the corner of your eye, you saw Minah and Changkyun getting very cozy. And by cozy, you mean that their tounges were down each other’s throats. You were happy for her, she seemed to be having a good time. God knows you’ll hear every little detail tomorrow, whether you want to or not.

As you got outside, you hailed for a cab to no avail until you saw a tall lanky guy getting into one with ease. So you decided it was either now or never to get out of here, so you followed the guy into the cab. When you asked him if he minded he simply shrugged, not even turning to face your way. You closed the door and told the driver your apartment building number and at that, the tall stranger turned his head and you finally knew who you were in the car with.

“Namjoon?”

“Hey! It’s been forever! You.. you look beautiful.” he said looking down and giving his heartstopping dimple smile. “How are you? What did you leave the party for? It only just started like, an hour ago.” he questioned.

“Not feeling the best honestly. Besides, there weren’t too many people I wanted to hang with and I’d just rather be home alone doing nothing. Anyways, why are you leaving so soon? Like you said, the party only just started.” you retorted.

“Can I be honest?”

“Of course Joonie.”

“Lalisa is there. She honestly makes me so nervous. She is so beautiful and smart and talented.” he answered. “I’d rather go home than choke up in front of her.” he frowned.

“Oh, Joons. Babe, look, if you don’t try someday, how will you ever say she’s yours? You can’t. When you want something, you just have to go for it, no matter how difficult. Anything can happen, everything is possible. She turns you down, there are literally millions of other girls that love and adore you. But that’s like a one in a million chance anyway, Jooniebug. You are an awesome guy and she’s a great girl. You two would be a truly astonishing couple. I ship it.” you smiled.

“Do you know how cool you are? Like really? That Chanyeol is a really lucky guy to have you. I wish you both the best of luck, you two are something really special together.” he beamed. You think he realized his mistake when he saw your smile fall at the comment regarding you two.

“I thank you Joons, but,” you hesitated, “Yeol and I.. we aren’t together anymore.”

“I’m so sorry, what happened? I thought you two had a future and..” he trailed off.

“Its okay, really. I mean I did too but.. things change I guess? I don’t know. The fans didn’t think it was real and before we knew it, we were asked to end things. We lived together and did everything together. I walked around and saw my shadow as two people, and now I feel empty. It’s been four months. I shouldn’t be feeling this anymore. He’s probably at that party with some pretty new girl wrapped around his shoulder. God knows there were so many others that wanted him.” you rolled your watery eyes looking away from Namjoon so he couldn’t see your glassy eyes.

“If you need anything, you know I’m here for you. You’re my girl! All of Bangtan loves you. And as for boyfriends, oh, Jimin is free! He’s sweet, cuddly, and a little clingy sometimes. But he’ll love you like there’s no tomorrow and support your every single move.” he joked, hopefully, as you chuckled and blinked away the tears that threatened to spill mere moments ago.

“I love you Joon. You know that?” you said with a small smile.

“Love you too. This is your stop, yea?” he questioned pointing out the window when the cab came to a stop.

“Yes. I thank you for letting me into your cab, hope you have a good night, and I really encourage you to try things with Lalisa. She would love you so much!” you grinned.

“I think I’m going to try it. I thank you so much for everything, and we must catch up more very soon! Goodnight!” Joon beamed.

“Night Joons!” you hollered whilst getting out of the compact.

As you turned around and walked down to you building I saw yet another tall figure leaned up against the wall. This guy was clad with a dark hood and black skinny jeans, which were paired with black vans. The stature of the outsider looked so familiar you could almost recognize who it was just by their stance. Almost. But he couldn’t be here, he was at the party. Your heart ran a marathon in your chest, ready to either fly up into your throat or slip down your stomach if it was who you thought it had been. As you neared the stranger, he turned his head.

“Dean?”

“Hey girl,” he replied pulling you into a quick embrace. “I just came to tell you something. It’s from Zico, he wanted me to tell you that he is expecting a call soon. He can’t wait to get in the booth with you, and I can’t wait to hear whatever y’all two got cooking up because I already know it’s something I’m gonna love.” he smirked.

“Aww, thanks, babe. You want coffee or something? Why aren’t you at the big ass party down on Fifth?” you wondered.

“I’m actually headed over there right now. You coming with me?” he quirked an eyebrow.

“Just came back from there. You know parties aren’t my scene. It’s better for me to stay here. But I’ll see you around yea?” you smiled knowingly and pulled him into another quick embrace before he agreed and we parted ways.

I finally got out of those damned jeans and the way-too-tight excuse for a shirt and pulled on my favorite pajamas. They were a simple royal blue satin duo that Chanyeol got for you on your 3 month anniversary. They weren’t anything sexy, because neither of you were really into that stuff, and you had at least two pairs that looked almost exactly the same, but you loved them more than any other pair for obvious reasons. After you got your makeup off and put to make your popcorn, you finally sat on your couch and turned on your beloved Netflix when you heard a knock at the door. As you got up and wandered to the door you wondered who it could possibly be. Haven’t you seen and spoken to everyone today? At least that’s what it felt like. You sighed looking at my bare feet as you opened the door and raised your head to see who it could be.

You didn’t think you would see him.

You were left speechless when you saw Chanyeol at your door after 4 months of being apart. It felt foreign to see him come into the apartment we once shared so happily. He too must’ve felt the strange sense of nostalgia as he took a seat on the couch opposite mine. The quiet quickly escalated into awkwardness as we were both unsure of what to say to the other after so long.

“I-“ he began.

“Why did you come here? Why today? Why now? Why not stay at the party?” I asked in a rush of questions. Your heart once again faltered at the many ideas rushing through your head.

“I’m sorry. I’m an idiot, to be honest. I don’t even know why I came here today of all days.” he announced, avoiding my gaze altogether and looking down at his favorite pair of Air Jordans.

“You don’t know why you came? you inquired.

“I-“ he repeated, biting his lip and finally meeting my eyes for the first time. You took the time to scan his awe-inspiring face for the first time in what feels like forever. The bags under his eyes were more prominent than ever, his hair looked all tousled as if he had been running his hand through it for days on end. He sat with a bit of a slouch and looked almost like he was about to cry.

“You don’t know how much I missed you. I’m still in love with you. I will always be in love with you. I don’t care who doesn’t like us together because I can’t live without you.“ he began. You couldn’t tell at that moment if your heart skipped a beat or just stopped altogether. He took your silence as a cue to continue.

"I know I waited a long time to tell you, hell, you’re so beautiful that I almost know that you’ve moved on for sure from my bum ass and I look like an idiot right now. But on the off chance that what I just said was wrong, and you still love me as much as I love you, I’m here right now to ask for your love and appreciation in my life again. I can’t explain in words the feeling I get in the pit of my stomach when I wake up every day and realize that you aren’t there next to me. That I won’t see your face or make you smile and laugh. That I can’t cuddle with you or see you wearing my Supreme hoodie that you said you loved because it smells the most like me out of all of my sweaters.” he cracked, watching your every move. You were tempted to look away so he couldn’t see your glossy eyes, but you couldn’t take your eyes off of the stunning man in your living room professing his undying love for you.

“I-” it was your turn to pause as I finally looked down at the white fur rug that coated the floor.

“I never stopped thinking about you. I never stopped wondering how you were, if you missed me if you were with someone else and if this would ever happen.” you looked back up at him.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Take me back. I promise you, I will never let them get in our way again. I can show you more affection, take you out more, anything you want. I just need you by my side.” he spoke lowly, standing up and coming closer. He held out a hand for you to get up and join him once again.

“Please. I love you,” he spoke in a throaty whisper, choking back tears.

Once you got up and stretched on your toes to reach his still towering face better, I whispered, “I love you, Park Chanyeol.”

Your lips met with an urgent passion but maintained a long, loving touch. The kind that builds over time and is created by two people that aren’t only in a relationship based off of lust, but love and affection as well. as the kiss deepened, Chanyeol pulled you up and rested your legs on either side of his waist, bringing you to the bedroom.

The rest of the night was filled with many overdue kisses and stolen touches, amongst other things. The morning after, You were awakened so rudely yet again by your alarm. A quarter to 8, you thought. You looked to your right and were welcomed with the seemingly foreign sun seeping more powerfully through the window than it had been in the past weeks. But what really got you was a rather familiar hand laying over your waist and a pretty boy next to you with his head digging into the pillow and his low yet perceptible snores.

“I love you, Park Chanyeol,” you said once more, raking your fingers through his hair cautiously not to wake him up before you got up and started your routine. ‘Today is going to be different, and so is every other day after this,’ you thought to yourself, smiling.

#chanyeol #park chanyeol #chanyeol fluff #dean #jackson #nct taeyong #namjoon #i.m

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featherypromises · 6 years ago

Text

Extremes

This one is for the Min Yoongi fans out there. The sickie is Yoongi with caretaking Hoseok and Namjoon. Thanks to: @snifflyjoonie @sneezybts @rosieknows and@bttwenty-whump for all the inspiration and headcanons.

Extremes:

Min Yoongi was fond of saying that he was more than just one person. And now, all of him were busy. The lines between himself, Suga and Agust D were shifting and blurring as he took on more and more challenges. Songs for BTS, in addition to producing songs for other artists (as Min PD) kept him in Genius Lab sometimes from when the other members went to sleep until they called him to choreography practice in the morning.

When his eyes started to feel like they were about to fall away from their retinas , he knew that was a sign to catch a nap for an hour or two on the comfortable sofa in his studio. This had been his default setting for the past three weeks. It worked for the most part, with him getting most of his solid sleep time on the studio couch and small naps between recordings and practices. Yoongi figured he was averaging between four to five hours of sleep per day. But the last two days, had been both hell and heaven in one terrifying mixture. Yesterday , they had made their appearance at the MAMA event in Seoul. They hadn’t performed in Seoul, but they would perform tomorrow. They had to take an early flight to Japan and the weather promised to be awful. The weather in Seoul had been a frigid 4° C (39° F) and windy. Japan promised to be about the same in temperature and climate.

The rapper shivered abruptly; just thinking about it made him feel cold. He rubbed his eyes and blearily stared at the clock in the room. “11:30pm”, the glowing digital numbers made his vision swim as they tried to adjust to the different lighting. He slapped his face lightly to rouse himself out of his drowsiness.

“Ugh… I’m not even done packing yet…” he groaned. He wasn’t worried about their performance. He knew that they had practiced every line and step until they could do it blindfolded. The weather worried him a little though: especially with Tae and Jimin just getting over their latest colds last week. Being outside in such cold, dry weather without any real weatherproof gear on, could wreak havoc on the vocal line’s sensitive voices. Combine that with all of the travelling and long rehearsals they were doing. At least they were ending the event in Hong Kong. it would be a little warmer there.

Speaking of warmer… Yoongi grabbed his spare jacket that he kept at the studio and shrugged it on over his hoodie. He turned off his beloved studio’s electronics and locked up. Outside the night temperature had plummeted below freezing; the sudden chill and dryness made him cough a little as his lungs tried to adapt to the drastic change in environment. An icy gust of wind tossed his hair into his eyes and he brushed it aside with impatience as he hurried to his car. He got in and cranked the heat as high as it would go with already numbed fingers.

Once he arrived back at the dorm, he pulled his sweatshirt’s hood up over his head, jammed his hands into his pockets and shuffled inside as quickly as his tired body would let him. The extreme change in temperature made his nose run slightly. He rubbed the wetness away with his pointer finger. Revived a bit by the warmth of the dorm, he made his way to his room, where he made short work of the last of his packing and gratefully flopped onto his bed.

He didn’t remember closing his eyes, let alone falling asleep; but he knew exactly how much he wanted to just go back to sleep, now that he was awake at 6 am. His head hurt and his nose was completely blocked on one side. Sitting up was a chore. He felt almost boneless with how tired he felt. Coffee... he needed lots of coffee. Damn… coffee was downstairs. He sighed and muttered a soft profanity under his breath, before peeling off the clothes he had worn the day before and getting changed into comfortable travelling clothes.

As he tried not to fall onto his face while pulling his pants on, there was a loud knock on his door,

“Yoongi-hyung? Are you awake?” The deep voice belonged to a surprisingly awake-sounding Namjoon. Yoongi winced as he head as the knock seemed to reverberate through his head. He tried to respond, but his voice came out as a croak:

“Ye…” he coughed, clearing his throat, “Yeah, I’m up, Joonah.”

“Okay, Seokjin-hyung is making is making breakfast. Come down soon.”

Hearing Namjoon’s footsteps fade away, the older rapper sighed again. This was going to be a long couple of days. He grabbed his suitcase, a warm winter coat and a warm oversized scarf before heading downstairs to join the others.

He could barely smell his hyung’s cooking with his stuffy nose, but what he could smell seemed to be good. He entered the common area and sat on one of the breakfast island’s stools. Seokjin was ladling soup into bowls, but looked over when he heard the stool scrape the floor.

“Ah… Yoongi-yah. Can you help with setting out the potato banchans and the fried eggs?” Nodding wordlessly, the rapper went to the kitchen to begin plating the food for the younger members. Seokjin raised an eyebrow at him,

“Long night?” the older man asked, “I didn’t hear you come in…”

Yoongi shrugged and rubbed at his nose with his shoulder. The steam was loosening his congestion, but this was awful timing. He hitched for a moment, his nose scrunching, before burying his face into his upper arm (away from the plates he carried) and muffled a nearly silent sneeze into his sweatshirt.

“Hhxxgt.” he sniffled quietly, and replied, “Not too bad. I think I got to bed around midnight.”

“Good, that’s fairly early compared to your normal time.” Seokjin was still focused on the food, so it seemed that Yoongi’s sneeze had gone unnoticed. As if the smell of the food had summoned them, the other members shuffled into the kitchen area to eat (and some of them to finish waking up). Jungkook had entered, virtually asleep on his feet, being dragged by Namjoon and Hobi. They seemed to be the most awake out of all of the group. They dumped Jungkook inelegantly into a chair at the table, and started getting beverages for the members. Jimin and Taehyung sat down with matching plops. Jimin requested juice and just slumped forward leaning his forehead on the table. Tae smiled at his hyungs and seconded the request for juice before trying to poke Jungkook into wakefulness. The maknae’s eyes weren’t even open yet. The sight made Yoongi’s mouth twitch upwards into the hint of a smile. Trying to wake Kookie up was a thankless and lengthy process.

Breakfast was a quiet affair, most of the members were still sleepy due to the early hours, for which Yoongi was grateful. After eating, the Hyung line let the maknaes clear up the leftovers and dishes. By 8am, they had all piled into the van and were on their way to the airport.

A few hours later their plane touched down in Tokyo. The flight was mercifully short and Yoongi couldn’t remember ever being so pleased to get off of a plane in his life. The pressure changes had made his head throb painfully and the congestion in his sinuses was getting worse. His nose was completely blocked now, and he had not been able to sleep at all during the flight. His head ached fiercely and he hissed in pain after stifling a pair of sneezes into his scarf, which he kept over the lower half of his face.

Slowing down a bit, Yoongi pulled Hobi off to one side,

“Hobi-yah, do you have any headache tablets with you?” The congestion was more obvious than he had hoped, and he couldn’t meet Hobi’s eyes. Asking Hoseok was a safe bet on Yoongi’s part though. The dance leader had a habit of pushing himself to his body’s limits and beyond. Hobi smiled at his friend and quickly rummaged in his cross-body bag. “Yaaaahhh…”, Hobi teased, “Of course! I got you, man!” His voice was light and high-spirited, but the older rapper felt the dancer’s eyes on him, not examining, but curious. He brought his head up and met the younger man’s gaze for a moment and nodded in response to an unasked question,

“Just the pressure changes, Hoseokie.” Hobi just nodded in reply. He didn’t comment on the stuffiness in his older friend’s voice. They knew each other well enough to know that they both hated being the center of attention if they weren’t at their best. Yoongi wasn’t sure that he could have brought himself to even ask the other members for medicine if Hoseok hadn’t had what he needed, even if his head split straight down the middle first.

Seokjin-hyung and Namjoonie would scold him for working late and fuss at him. The maknae line would worry and try to help, especially sensitive Taehyungie. Hobi knew him best though. It helped that they both tended to work through any minor injury or illness and that they could relate to each other’s pride in the face they showed to the other members and their fans.

Hobi passed his hyung a water bottle and clapped him on the shoulder amicably, “Ready?”

No, definitely not,...

“Yeah,...”

Yoongi pulled his scarf back up and they rushed to catch up to the others. They reached them just as they were exiting the terminal and were greeted by the flash of hundreds of cameras and the screams of the ecstatic Japanese ARMYs. They smiled, bowed and waved before exiting the airport and getting into the waiting car. The air had a sharpness to it, and Yoongi muffled a quiet cough as he crawled in next to Hoseok in the back. He leaned on the younger man’s shoulder. He slept in small, disturbed fragments. The trip to the hotel was a blur. Hoseok brought his bag into the room they would share, while Yoongi slept in the car. Mere minutes later they were traveling to the Saitama super arena for their final run through. It was a little while past noon.

Three hours later, they had arrived, eaten lightly, stretched and had done their final practice. It was just the choreography portion to save their voices, but it was still tiring. Yoongi’s headache had been dulled by the pain relievers, but he felt fuzzy-headed and exhausted. His nose had changed from stuffy to runny during the rehearsal, which helped him breathe easier through the dances, but also made him clear his throat more frequently.

By the end of the rehearsal, Yoongi was seriously questioning if someone could marry a bed. Laying down in a soft bed with warm covers sounded like heaven on earth right now. He rubbed his nose on his jacket sleeve, for what seemed like the thousandth time today and made a beeline for the chairs backstage and let himself fall into one with relief. Just behind him, someone cleared their throat (besides him for a change). Yoongi was startled enough to jump a bit, before seeing Namjoon in a folding chair just behind his. He must really be tired, he realized, if he didn’t noticed the less than graceful man flank him. Usually, he could tell when most of the others were nearby, just by their breathing alone (a consequence of living together for nearly 6 years). Maybe his ears were still off because of the flight…

“Hyung? Are you feeling alright?” Namjoon leaned closer behind him and kept his voice low. Yoongi turned in his seat until he could see their leader’s face out of the corner of his eye. The younger man was looking straight ahead, as if he was staring out over the stage, rather than at his hyung. The older rapper smiled tiredly at the attempt at subtlety. He brushed off the question quickly,

“Mmhmm.”

“You were struggling up there.” It wasn’t a question. Yoongi’s smile disappeared instantly, as Namjoon continued,

“You were almost a full beat behind during Anpanman. You were out of breath too…”

Yoongi scoffed, ignoring the “slow” comment,

“Only Hobi could do that dance and not be out of breath afterwards, Joon.”

“Look, if you need to rest before the show tonight, just…” the younger man trailed off, remembering the type of person he was speaking with, and sighed resignedly,

“Hyung, at least be careful for our sakes if you can. We don’t need you to accidentally hurt yourself because you are tired… or…”

“Or?...” The oldest rapper voice was acidic and challenging Namjoon to complete that thought.

Instead the leader stood, cramming his hands into his pockets. Yoongi sucked in a breath to demand an answer, but began to cough as the inhalation scraped against a sensitive throat. He struggled to muffle it into his scarf, pressing it against his lips with a closed fist. The younger man was in front of him in the span of a moment.

“Hyung…” Namjoon handed Yoongi his own water bottle and stood in front of him, effectively blocking the older man from the sight of the other members who were laughing and joking around on stage.

Catching his breath, Yoongi downed half the bottle desperately, his face pale, but stubbornly set.

“I can’t ask you to sit this show out, can I?” Namjoon questioned in a murmur, his eyes full of pity and concern. Shit, but Yoongi hated that look.

“Not unless you thrive on rejection…”

Namjoon ran his hand through his hair, in a very Jimin-like gesture, but this movement was laced with overwhelming frustration,

“Fine, I also won’t tell you that pushing yourself like this is stupid.”

The older man’s eyes flashed dangerously,

“This is one of our last performances this year. This is also an award show that we are hoping to win, isn’t it?!? How can you ask me to cripple us hours before a show… Can Hobi and you carry Anpanman alone? Not fucking happening, Joon. I’ll be fine.” His body chose that moment to side with Namjoon and he felt a burning pinch in his sinuses,

“H’ppshh! Isshh! Damnit…” he sniffled against a closed fist.

“Do you think you have a fever?”

“No idea. That’s not relevant right now. Just let me get through the next two days. Then you can yell at me all you want.” Yoongi got up stiffly and walked away. He had taken as much of Namjoon’s leader mode as he could reasonably be expected to deal with at the moment. He knew it was well-intentioned, but right now, all that mattered was the performance tonight and finishing the next in Hong Kong. He could persevere until then. The others had enough to worry about; he refused to add more to their stress levels.

He went to the area where the managers kept first aid items in case of emergencies. He made sure no one was around before opening the medicine box. He pocketed a couple a headache tablets and found the decongestants, he swallowed them dry and put a couple extras in his pocket just in case.

He shuddered at the vile chemical taste, but went to start getting changed into his outfit for the show. He was starting to feel cold. This could be a problem. He was supposed to wear three different outfits. One for the red carpet, one for Fake Love and then a quick change into the one for Anpanman. He would be okay in the red carpet outfit because the long silver coat was big enough to wear a sweater beneath it, but the outfit for Fake Love was just thin pants and a loose fitting prince-style shirt. He decided to talk to the stylist about a last minute addition.

After they had taken photos and done their introduction with the hosts, they headed into the audience to watch the first few performances. The other members were chatty and excited. When the signal was given, they headed back to wardrobe.

The stylist agreed to the change easily, as he would have been the only member in white with the old choice. She outfited him with a short suit jacket over the shirt, which gave him a bit more warmth and fit him well. She then sent him to make-up and he waited for the others to finish before taking a seat.

“Min Yoongi-ssi, you are so pale today! And these circles under your eyes!” Yoongi murmured an embarrassed apology for cause her to work harder. The make-up brushes layered the foundation, concealer, or powder. As she was finishing the area around his mouth, he sniffled, and inhaled some of the powder. He released a small fit of sneezes into a raised hand.

“Hhh’issh! Psssht! Igghhxt!” She patiently redid his makeup and offered a couple of tissues,

“Just in case…” She said, smiling. He bowed and left blushing. He was grateful to be out of there and hurried to the backstage waiting area. The sound team attached their mics and earpieces and did their final sound checks. The members could hear loud cheering and the hosts beginning their introduction.

Damn, his nose was running again. Yoongi sniffled and went to rub his nose on his cuff before remembering his makeup. Instead he used one of the tissues that the make-up noona had given him and dabbed at his nose gently, before tucking it away into his sleeve. Fake Love had intense dancing, but his rapping part was fairly short. Anpanman would be harder dancing and he would be rapping through most of it.

They entered in darkness, the colors swirling over the stage in front of them, then the lights came up and Yoongi saw an ocean of ARMY bombs. He would do this, for ARMY who made this possible to stand here. He muted his mic until about 10 seconds before his rap, to minimize the heavy, gasping breaths he was taking from negatively impacting the song. He delivered his part with emotion and strength, the only fault he could hear had been the softened consonants as he sang. He kept pace with the others until the last chorus when his nose began to itch. He wanted to scream. Not here. He couldn’t during such an important show. His left foot missed a touch point as he became distracted. He couldn’t hold it. He had to sneeze. He held his breath as they met in the center for the final pose, and yanked his headset off before sneezing into his suit jacket sleeve. There was no sound, but across from him Namjoon was looking at him, breathing hard and completely focused on Yoongi’s face, unsmiling. The lights dimmed and they disappeared off stage putting out the anpanman outfits quickly. The sound team replaced his headset with a new one.

They reappeared before the audience and began the energetic dance. Suga kept up through most of the song. During the part where he was supposed to rap alone he slowed to a rhythmic walk to give himself more air. His voice was rough and tired sounding but he was clear and on the beat every moment. At the end of the performance, he let Hobi “hug him” as they made their way offstage. Truthfully, Hoseok was helping to keep him upright.

The got their makeup refreshed and their sweat-soaked hair dried before heading out to watch the ending. They received a few awards that night. Yoongi, managed a breathless laugh and a few important thank yous before leaving the rest of the speeches to the other members. Once everything was over, they piled into the limousine that would bring them back to the hotel. Namjoon was silence incarnate. The younger boys chattered and giggled and talked about the awards, Jin putting in his thoughts intermittently. Hobi kept Yoongi close. Every so often, he would push a water bottle into the older man’s hands in a silent encouragement to drink fluids.

When they arrived, the younger members went with Jin to get cleaned up and to play games. Namjoon wordlessly followed his hyungs, his mouth a thin, tense line. Once inside the room, Namjoon paced for a few moments before asking Hobi,

“Hoseok-hyung, how is he?”

“HE is fine…” quipped Yoongi.

“YOU GET TO SAY NOTHING!” Namjoon shouted, surprising the oldest rapper into silence.

Hobi swallowed hard and said,

“He seems to have a fever… I’m not sure how high yet, because of the exertion. He has had a bad headache since this morning, and he has been congested… Plus the sneezing.”

“And the coughing fit earlier,...” Namjoon said mostly to himself, returning to pacing the room, but Hoseok heard the younger rapper and looked at Yoongi in disappointment.

“Oh, Yoongi.” The dancer felt for the glands just under Yoongi’s chin and looked reproachfully at him when he felt how swollen they were.

“If I had known you were this bad, I would have told Joonie-yah that you needed to be sat for this show. Are you trying to lose your voice before Hong Kong?”

Yoongi blushed, he felt awful for worrying them both. He was angry at his body and at himself.

“No…” he mumbled, “m’sorry, Joonah… really.”

Namjoon stopped pacing to stare at his hyung. He was pale with anger. He never seemed to run out of patience or tolerance for the other members' antics. Why was he almost shaking now with uncontainable frustration?

“You… you could have…” the young leader began, “You could need to be hospitalized if this gets worse.” He began to pace again, “You really amaze me, hyung…” This was meant sardonically, as the youngest rapper was in no mood to pay compliments, “What were you trying to prove? That you’re tough? That you don’t need anyone’s help? That you can’t or won’t trust me?”

Yoongi could only dumbly shake his head “no”.

“What would have happened if you had passed out on stage? Do you think any of us could have found it in us to keep the show going while in a panic as an emergency team took you from us. What about ARMY? If they had seen something like that? They would have been terrified for your safety, and angry with us and the company for not taking care of you. I can’t exactly just go out there and explain that you are just a stubborn jackass with a deathwish.”

Yoongi looked at him in shock. This is what he’d been worried about this whole time? As the weight of what-ifs, hit him, the oldest rapper looked at the youngest member of the rapline, and saw him for what he was, a young man trying to carry all the cares and problems of the group and Yoongi realized he had only been making Namjoon’s life harder by keeping him at arm’s length.

Namjoon sniffed, and to Yoongi’s astonishment, he saw that the younger man was fighting back tears. His wall shattered and he reached out to his younger brother. Namjoon took his hand and said,

“Just tell me hyung, whenever you aren’t feeling well. It’s so hard not knowing for sure what’s wrong and having to guess. Please…”

At that, the tears spilled out of his eyes, and Yoongi could do nothing but pull Namjoon close to him in a tight comforting hug,

“I promise. I won’t make this hard on you again. I’m sorry, Joonie-yah, I’m so sorry.”

Hoseok sat beside them on the bed, his arms encircling Yoongi in a warm embrace. When the older boy broke away from them to sneeze into his fist, Namjoon said,

“Okay, hyung. Get showered and get some sleep already. Hong Kong is in 2 days, and you are only getting out of this bed to use the bathroom. If you are still this bad tomorrow, you will be sat. No arguments."

"Sounds good.”

(I hope you like it. This one was really tough. I'm happy with how it came out though. 💜💜💜)

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rkpjy · 6 years ago

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⭐️MGA 5 EPISODE 2 ↪ singing an acoustic version of birthday by rad museum ( 00:21 - 00:59 // 02:20 - 02:39 ) skill performance outfit (minus cap), hair

tw: depressive thoughts, mention of suicide

The day I was born Nobody knows The day I was born Nobody knows my birthday I feel so blue

in that moment, jinyoung feels alone. he's surrounded by a hundred other contestants, judges, staff members, but the room could be empty and it wouldn't feel any different. as much as he tries to fit in, to get a sense of belonging, to interact with people, nothing seems to work out. he's just another head in the crowd, just another singer that no one paid attention to. just another soul that won't be remembered.

he feels nothing as so jisub prepares to announce the results. this hole inside him keeps growing and no matter what he does he can't stop it. it nobody's fault but his own, really. the world doesn't have to cater to his feelings, people just move forward and will leave him behind if he doesn't follow. he doesn't resent anyone but himself for being like this. since the day he was born, jinyoung has always felt lonely. he was not rejected, he was decently popular even, but he could never shake off this heavy, suffocating sense of emptiness.

people always get bored, then they leave.

he knows he's not as entertaining as these younger contestants clapping and cheering for everyone, laughing along and chatting whenever the stage is empty. jinyoung observes, he analyzes, a mere bystander as the rest of the world marches on. names start being called, but he doesn't expect his own to come out in the beginning. the parks are closer to the end. after showing off his versatility, he can only expect to move forward, but he might not have made any impression. there's never a safe way to tell besides having faith in his own talent. he's not surprised, however, when he hears 'park jinyoung', just as he wasn't when he got his callback audition. will this resolve fade as the show gets harder, jinyoung can't tell for now. if he's meant to go home, he'll leave quietly, without making any waves.

after filming ends and they are allowed to go home, he is probably the first to leave the set. he doesn't wait for yugyeom, as they haven't spoken all day and jinyoung isn't sure of his plans after. he is more likely to go out with his friends than go home right away, which the older understands. yugyeom is outgoing, he's social, and so enthusiastic about this competition while all jinyoung wants is to find mina. he calls his mother on the way home too, as she wanted to be the first to know if he got through. she's ecstatic, though she keeps telling him she knew he would blow them away. jinyoung's heart swells upon hearing this. she knows he worries too much, he takes after her. mina is still waiting for him when he comes back, as the supportive girlfriend she's been since the beginning. he looks at her sparkling eyes and tender smile, and he once again thinks about how he doesn't deserve her. she loves him so much, and is so caring. sometimes he feels as though he's her whole world and it used to be a lot of pressure for him, to have another person depend on him so much. but mina is even more solid than he is when the people she loves crumble down. she's a soothing presence, and the lighthouse guiding him through his inner darkness. she congratulates him, and they don't do much else beside cuddling on the couch until it's time to sleep.

the song choice appears evident as soon as birthday comes on shuffle in his playlist. he can thank yien for this one, as he never turns down his recommendations. the idol knows a lot of music jinyoung hasn't explored, or wouldn't without some guidance and he's never disappointed whenever he gets a new addition to his playlist. he relates to the lyrics a lot more than he wants to. taken literally, the singer talks about being forgotten on his own birthday, but there's a much larger meaning to it. this feeling of loneliness, of going through life backwards because it seems as though no one truly cares or pays attention. and it kills jinyoung to feel like this when he knows there are so many people who want nothing but his well-being and happiness. he should be happy, right? he should smile more, get excited more, and yet he doesn't. there's no explaining it, or if there is, he's never found it.

he goes to work that day, looking at the customers and wondering if everyone's like him. if they still feel lonely when holding their lover's hand, or hugging a friend, or smiling at a complete stranger. he mentions it to jaewon, although too vaguely enough for jaewon to really wonder what's going on underneath the surface. they jokingly talk about how much life sucks at times, and even more when you have to work at a café to pay the bills. they both aspire to much greater things, and maybe jaewon more than him has almost given up on them now. jinyoung tries to hold on, after all, he's still twenty-two years old, his life is far from being over yet.

he arrives the next week with a heavy heart, and a lump in his throat. he's been practicing all week, in between breaks at work, or in the middle of the night when he couldn't sleep. he feels bad letting mina hear him sing it; he knows she'll be sad that he keeps these emotions buried inside, but the sole fact that he lets her into these private, darker thoughts means that he trusts her more than he trusts most people. he lets very few people in, and the rest can only scratch the surface of his soul. whether it's a good or bad thing, jinyoung doesn't care. he wouldn't feel any less lonely with more friends.

they are once again brought in the studio where a stage awaits them, but with fewer seats this time. jinyoung looks over at yugyeom and the people by his side. he just can't bring himself to join them. yugyeom's his brother, sometimes more so than he is a friend, and so jinyoung lets him have his own friendships without intefering with that part of his life. they're so loud anyway, as are most of the contestants. it turns him off. sia gestures for him to come over to where she is sitting with a couple friends, most of them the same as last week. he decides it can't hurt to sit with at least one familiar face. as for the rest well, he could always strike a conversation if he ever feels the need to. he ends up very close to changbin, who left quite the impression last week with his self-produced rap. they both nod to each other, then nothing after that for a long time. he talks to sia briefly, too, both asking how their week has been, and he claps more loudly for her than he does other people when it's her turn to go on stage to perform.

he definitely feels lonely.

he looks around him, expression neutral, very focused on the performances but never really letting any emotion through. there's no way for the camera to capture his thoughts. in fact, he looks more like a still image than he does a living, breathing person, save for the rare blinks here and there to prove that he is, indeed, alive. the singers go first, and due to his name jinyoung is the sixteenth contestant to perform. it doesn't bother him. the placement doesn't matter, only the skill does, but there's still a feeling of restlessness as they all pass on stage, some doing amazingly well, deserving louder claps from jinyoung and some being disappointing, only earning a few spared claps.

"next up is park jinyoung, please come forward."

he breathes in, breathes out. will it be like this every week? his fate relying solely on five people who might not even grow to like him. some could say they're the most capable of judging talent but jinyoung feels otherwise. he's worth more than nods and 'thank you, you can go back to your seat's. but they're sitting up there, and he's down here.

as usual, polite park jinyoung bows to the judges and both sides of the stage where the contestants are watching him from. "i'll be singing birthday by rad museum. thank you for listening." he says.

today is not his birthday. but the feeling isn't any different. he's nobody. and they're about to get a glimpse of park jinyoung's demons.

From now on I’m not going to meet with anyone ever Don’t worry too much I never die Is it because I’m wasted? Oh I get so drunk I said I was leaving, but the place I wind up is the playground by my house

the song starts very slowly, and he sings the first part acapella, hand on the microphone instead of the guitar now strapped around him. eyes closed, lips brushed against the microphone, the words come out seamlessly, gently. he means every single one of them. don't worry too much about him, he doesn't want to die. at least not anymore. he won't disappear, he won't really leave, but part of him still wishes that he did. not to get away from people, but to get away from himself, and the pressure he puts himself through each day.

The day I was born Nobody knows The day I was born Nobody knows my birthday I feel so blue

from the chorus, his fingers start to strum the chords of his guitar and jinyoung moves his head along to the beat, feeling it right to his core. it's not about how nobody knows his birthday, but more about how nobody truly knows him. and so few people really care to pry enough to see what's inside. he doesn't talk much, and they rarely ask.

he feels so blue.

Morning sunshine, so long This city’s neon sign, so long My life is so long And it’s difficult I hate this day that finds me every year

he looks at the five ceos, grooving along to the music, then closes his eyes again. it's a very intimate song, at least to him, and he hopes they'll feel just how deeply meaningful it is through the way he delivers the lines and feels every beat. it's a very different style than the one he's done last week, so they can see for themselves that he can tackle more than one style. and that he deserves more than to be put in one category.

The day I was born Nobody knows The day I was born Nobody knows my birthday I feel so blue

Nobody knows what day today was Today’s my birthday Feels like a waste to just let it go by I want to party

the bridge isn't as sorrowful, there's a glimpse of hope in the way he says he doesn't want to let the day go to waste. to jinyoung, it's his whole life he wants to make worthwhile. he could accomplish great things and actually enjoy them if he just lets himself get rid of his shackles.

The day I was born Nobody knows The day I was born Nobody knows my birthday I feel so blue

the singing stops and at the same time, the music he's been playing. he takes a deep breath, giving himself a few seconds to get back to reality. he gets so involved in whatever he sings that he often ends up unable to get his mind off of these feelings for a while. he goes back to his seat and doesn't talk to anyone until after the next performance, which funnily enough happens to be junhee.

changbin speaks to him then, telling him he enjoyed his performance, to which jinyoung replies a very short "thank you, you did quite well yourself last week." it's obvious that there's a lot of awkwardness between them, not because they don't get along, but just because that's how they are. it took them everything to actually acknowledge each other and now that it's done, the conversation died as quickly as it came to life. all that's missing are these quirky edits korean shows make, of both the boys inside huge blocks of ice. that's how cold the silence feels.

jinyoung pays a special attention to yugyeom once the dancers' round begins, as while he has confidence in the younger's talent he just hopes he won't mess up. it would be such a shame if yugyeom were to go home because of a stupid mistake, and as a big brother he can't help but feel responsible for him. but thankfully he does very well, and jinyoung breathes with a little more ease once the dancer is safely back to his seat.

just like this the main event comes to an end, and they're once again met with an uncertain future in the competition.

what will he tell mina when he comes home tonight?

#rkmga5 #rkmga5skill #.solo #rkkmn #yienrk #rkjjwon #rksihyeon #rkkyg #rkxbin #junheerk #(vague reference to singers performances but too vague to tag)#did i shamelessly used a video for ootd purposes? yes #couldn't find a good pic SO

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emmetohboy · 4 years ago

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Favorites: The 2020 Conundrum

Illustration credit: Orkenoy

I’ve heard it from numerous colleagues, friends and family members. The sentiment along the lines of "...can't end soon enough." or " Worst year ever." I don't disagree. Along with virtually everyone I know, this year has meant personal loss, crippling angst and the missing of loved ones. But do I wish 2020 had not happened? Along with the uncertainty and hardship, would I wish away everything else that the years has brought? I don't know.

I'm not one to pontificate what the pandemic has taught us or accelerated or revealed. But I am interested in drawing it as a frame around the creative work that was generated in the context of it. At the close of 2016 I hoped that the lemon of the new political environment might bare the lemonade of generational creative output. That may or may not have been the case. We’ll have to wait longer to assess that from a more objective distance. But the last 10 months have been a concentrated, intensely focused, if not simply harrowing time. Has the pressure been so intense, in such a short period, that we graduated from lemonade to forging cultural carbon into diamonds at an unprecedented speed? Are these gems be so luminous, that they will one day be viewed as heirlooms? Was the pain of 2020 worth its blessings?

Listen

Released right at the onset of quarantine was my absolute favorite record of 2020. Waxahatchie's St.Cloud is a stunner first track to last. Some hook you instantly ("Can't Do Much"), and others slowly worm their way into your soul ("Witches"). Several year-end best lists included the latest from Lucinda Williams, Katie Crutchfield's musical hero. I disagree with its inclusion, finding the tracks a little flimsy and familiar. Katie's St. Cloud, however, is as close to prime Lucinda as anyone has gotten in quite some time.

Termed "Hip-Hop's first pandemic masterpiece by Exclaim magazine, Oddisee's Odd Cure brought a lot of joy this year. A tidy mix of R&B tinged hip-hop intertwined with calls to friends and family, the record has broad appeal and a narrative that only 2020 could supply.

The Remote Tiny Desk concert Oddisee performed with his band, mostly present, is fantastic.

Every year I can count on being introduced to one or two new artist via the New Music Mix that Apple Music serves me every Friday. This year I was pulled in to the track "Safe in Sound" by Orlando Weeks. I dropped it into a growing playlist that I have for background music while working. Each time it came up on shuffle it begged to be replayed. Eventually I tapped the entire record and googled Mr. Weeks. He is not a new artist to me at all. The former frontman for the U.K. band the Maccabees had ventured into a solo career. And it is so strikingly different from the Maccabees record I love, 2007's Colour it In, that it is no surprise I didn't recognize him. Weeks’ A Quickening is transformative and almost spiritual at times. He contemplates fatherhood ("Milk Breath") and community ("St. Thomas") and an aging seafarer’s relation to the elements that surround him ("Moon Opera"), in such ways that the record works in prioritizing what is important during difficult, if not odd times.

I came late to Natalie LaFourcade and I’m a little angry at ignorantly depriving myself of this joyful talent for so long. She is a prolific dynamo. 2020 brought Un Canto por Mexico Vol.1. And so as the tile suggest, there will be another volume on its heels. Natalia had similarly released the wonderful Musas as two volumes spread over 2017-18. These three records along with 2015's Hasta la Raiz have supplanted the Trio Los Panchos records I played for cooking accompaniment.

One of the most creative and infectious records I heard all year was Buscabulla's Regresa. The husband and wife outfit returned from New York to their native Puerto Rico following the tragedy of hurricane Maria. The environment made for joyful and melancholic results musically.

Buscabulla’s remote performance for NPRs Tiny Desk, from the back of their car at the beach in Aguadilla, Puerto Rico makes me smile the entire 13 minutes. Here’s to the resourcefulness of creativity.

I've been a fan of White Denim for some time. They are also quite prolific, generating new records almost yearly since 2009. So who could have blamed them after releasing Side Effects in 2019 if they had taken 2020 lying down. Not James Petralli and Michael Hunter. When faced with Austin Texas' pending stay at home order, the band wrote and recorded the entire record in thirty days. World as a Waiting Room is among the band's best.

2017 Juno award winner William Prince is a huge star in Canada and should be stateside as well. His voice is as unique and warm as any I can recall. And his songwriting is as earnest, if not as clever as fellow Canadian Ron Sexsmith. "Wasted" is an unintentional anthem for 2020.

I am hooked Frazey Ford's vocal delivery. There is a Van Morrison quality to it, so nonchalant to almost be conversational. It as if the lyrics might be different every time she sings the song. U kin B the Sun is laden with grooves and a casual coolness that always set me down lakeside on a summer day.

Circles feels like it was released a lifetime ago. The loss of Mac Miller was devastating and his partnership with Jon Brion is was one the most visionary collaborations of all time. This record feels timeless.

Lianne LaHavas is one of the most talented musicians alive. This year’s self-titled release is as close to a Sade record as we've had in a while.

Its great to see local acts get such national acclaim. Even better when they demonstrate creative growth. DEHD's Flower of Devotion expands the bands previously bare bones approach to music making with lovely Cocteau Twins-esque shimmer.

Orkenoy in the daytime.

Speaking of things local, I have been rooting for Orkenoy since finding out the Humboldt Park brewery was in the works back in 2019. What a journey it has been for the folks behind it all. Brewing equipment, transported from a distance, tumbles off of the truck as it nears its new home. It was damaged but not irreparable. It was nothing compared to what was to come. We may have hit the tipping point on craft breweries, but can you imagine readying your passion project for the world and the world snaps back with a global pandemic. They admirably soldiered on.

Turns out they are not just another brewery. They bill themselves as a "creative enclave operating as a brewery, kitchen and synergetic haunt for local artists." Their offerings, from brews to food, are a delicious blend of the rare and traditional, Norwegian Smørrebrøds and French Farmhouse, to new and experimental. Their branding is charming and narrative. We've taken carry out of cocktails and beers. Both were fantastic. Very recently Orkenoy has added even more allure to their footprint in the Kimball Arts Center by stringing lights from their facade to the elevated Bloomingdale Trail. As the nights have grown to their longest, my morning runs begin in darkness. So when I came upon the illuminated Orkenoy early one morning last week my path became a bit merrier. I was also struck by how much the scene reminded me of Van Gogh's Cafe Terrace at Night.

Orkenoy at pre-dawn run.

Lulu Miller has worked as a producer for Radiolab and is a co-creator of the NPR show Invisibilia. Her book Why Fish Don't Exist was my favorite read of 2020. Told in Miller's quirky voice, the pages navigate herculean scientific achievements, our country's racial history, murder and ultimately love. While this may all sound a frantic lot, Miller weaves it together tersely and with self-deprecating humor.

One of my favorite books of years' past is Michael Pollen's lesser known, Second Nature. It was in my initial reading of this that I learned from Pollen about Aldo Leopold's Sand County Almanac. I purchased a copy and thumbed through it when I finished Second Nature. A recent interest had me recall the work, so I set about our house to find it. It's a short book and so it took me a couple of looks to locate it behind thicker, stacked volumes on our bedroom bookshelf. I've been immersed in it ever since. I'm intentionally taking small bites, savoring every page, even highlighted passages—something I haven't done probably since reading Pollen. Leopold was an American philosopher and naturalist long associated with the University of Wisconsin. His writing is keenly observational, almost poetic. As he winds through the seasons on his Wisconsin farm, he introduces us to the behaviors of migrating geese, defensive plover and elusive trout among other inhabitants. Leopold is almost always alone with these creatures and his thoughts, save occasionally his dog. And while I wish I had a printing that contained the forward by Barbara Kingsolver, Leopold's original forward from 1948 suits me just fine.

Aldo Leopold

"...the opportunity to see geese is more important than television., and the chance to find a pasque-flower is a right as inalienable as free speech...But wherever the truth may lie, this much is crystal-clear: our bigger-and-better society is now like a hypochondriac, so obsessed with its own economic health as to have lost the capacity to stay healthy. The whole world is so greedy for more bathtubs that it has lost the stability necessary to build them, or even turn off the tap. Nothing could be more salutary at this stage than a little healthy contempt for a plethora of material blessings."

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hmhteen · 7 years ago

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HMH Teen Teasers: AFTER THE SHOT DROPS by Randy Ribay!

We are so excited that AFTER THE SHOT DROPS is almost here! For Kwame Alexander fans that have grown out of middle-grade, or YA fans of THE HATE U GIVE and ALL AMERICAN BOYS, this sports novel about two best friends torn apart by privilege is heartbreaking, but ultimately hopeful. Scroll down to read an excerpt!

Bunny

I’m never sure what to write for the dead. I mean, most of the time when someone hands me the marker at one of these vigils, I just end up laying down something vague

and comforting. You know: See you in heaven. We’ll miss you.

Rest in peace, bro.

Something like that. But it never feels right. Never feels like your words will make a difference, like they’ll make his family feel better or stop anyone else from dying for no rea- son. The person they’re meant for won’t ever read them, so you’re just wasting ink.

But the small, silent crowd shuffles forward, the girl ahead of me passes me a marker, and it’s my turn. I’ve got to write something.

I step up to the big oak tree that stands in the middle of Virgilio Square, its bare branches spread out overhead like skeletal fingers. A white sheet’s been wrapped around its trunk, with te queremos, gabe, airbrushed across the middle in big blue letters. I know enough Spanish to know that means “we love you.” Everyone’s notes and signatures are scrawled in the spaces all around it. A bunch of teddy bears and can- dles sit at the base of the tree in front of a framed photo of Gabe smiling big, all nestled in a nook formed by the roots.

This is where Gabe and his friends were hanging when the shots were fired. Word is the bullet was meant for some- one else. Too bad the bullet didn’t know that.

I’m tall, so I decide to add my message up high on the sheet where there’s only a couple others. I take off my glove and shake my hand to try to warm it up, then I lean against the tree and press the tip of the marker against the white cotton. The black ink bleeds into it.

I stay like that for a few moments, adding nothing but a black dot because I still don’t know what to write. I want to put down something meaningful. Gabe lived three streets over and was only a year ahead of me in school. We weren’t real tight, but coming up, he was part of the group of kids we’d always play football or manhunt or whatever with. For some reason, I keep thinking about how he used to eat apples whole, core and all. The rest of us would tell him a tree was going to grow in his stomach if he drank too much water. Funny how your mind picks something small like that to re- play.

But I also think about last summer, when I announced that I was transferring from Whitman High, our neighbor- hood school, to St. Sebastian’s, a private school in the sub- urbs. Pride in Whitman High’s basketball team runs real deep around our way, so a lot of people didn’t like that one bit. My main man, Nasir, straight up stopped talking to me. But Gabe was cool about it. I was shooting around at the courts one day shortly after the announcement, and some guys started getting in my face about it. Gabe stepped in, calmed them down, and sent them on their way. Then he told me to keep my head up, to not let it get to me. Maybe it’s because he was good at football and so understood what I was trying to do with basketball, but whatever the reason, it meant a lot. Only, I don’t know how to express all this on a bed sheet wrapped around a tree.

I feel the line behind me growing restless, since I’m tak- ing forever, so I give up trying to find the perfect words. I settle for i won’t forget you, and sign my name. Don’t know what happens to us after we die, but if there’s some way he can read this, I know he’ll understand the words I feel but can’t find.

After handing the marker to the woman behind me, I step aside, slip my glove back on, and dig my hands into my coat pockets. I go back to the rear of the crowd that’s gathered in the blocked-off street, bundled up in their winter gear and waiting for his pastor or his parents or whoever to take the mic that’s set up in the patch of grass next to the tree. After a bit, one of the local politicians gets up there and starts going on about how we can’t let something like this happen again. I’ve heard this song before, so my mind drifts.

It’s overcast and frigid. Late February and still hasn’t snowed more than a dusting all winter. Looking up, I wonder if today’s the day. The gray clouds feel heavy as my heart, like they’re about to dump two feet of snow on us at any moment. An airplane crawls across the sky on its way to Philly on the other side of the river, the drone of its engines getting louder as it approaches. A lot of people hate that we’ve got these jets flying past every few minutes, but I don’t mind. It’s like God’s constant reminder that there’s more out there than this. Besides, I kind of like how they make the sun blink when they pass by on a clear day. Of course, right now the sun’s hid- den behind the clouds, so the plane passes and then it’s quiet again except for boots shifting, people sniffling, cars passing on the side streets. Some hushed conversations. Quiet, sad laughter. Every now and then someone breaking down.

The politician at the mic is still carrying on, for some reason talking about one of her new initiatives. I stay tuned out, letting my eyes wander across the crowd. There are a lot of families from the neighborhood out here, as well as what seems like most of the kids from Whitman High. The girls hold each other and dab at their eyes while the guys stand around like they’ve got faces cut from stone. A few nod at me, but I hang back.

I mostly stay to myself these days. My interactions in the neighborhood usually go one of two ways: either people try to start something like I betrayed them personally by trans- ferring to St. Sebastian’s, or they try to put all this pressure on me to go back to Whitman High. Either way, I’m not feeling like dealing with any of it, so I turn to leave, even though the memorial’s still going.

That’s when I see Nasir. He’s off to the side with his cousin Wallace. Easy to spot them, what with Wallace’s height mak- ing Nasir look even shorter than he would by himself. Both have their hoods up. Nasir stares at the teddy bears at the foot of the tree while Wallace looks all around like he’s got somewhere else to be. I’ll see them on the court tomorrow since they both still play for Whitman, but I consider walking over to say what’s up to Nas. It’s stupid we’re still not talking because I want something more than what Whitman can of- fer. Out of everyone, I expected him to get that.

But as I’m about take a step toward them, Wallace catches sight of me. I nod at him, but he doesn’t nod back. He holds my gaze for a beat and then nudges Nas. Nas lifts his eyes and they meet mine for a moment. Then he turns his back to me and walks away.

Nasir

Everyone’s hanging their head as we trudge toward the bus, headphones on and bags slung over shoulders. Got our asses handed to us by St. Sebastian’s, 29–65, and

now back we go to Whitman. We might argue we weren’t feeling it, what with Gabe’s death hanging over us and all, and, yeah, maybe that was part of it. But the main reason we lost tonight?

Bunny Thompson.

Bunny tore us apart at both ends of the court. You think he’d at least have the decency to pull back a bit against his old teammates, but no. Put up a double-double — his, like, fifteenth consecutive one this season. Not that I’m keeping track of his numbers or anything.

And with that, our season’s finished. We’re teammates but not a team. Players out of game.

The sun is setting behind us, and the air smells like snow. I’m last in line, and before I step through the narrow door, I look over my shoulder at St. Sebastian’s one last time.

The school sits there with its fancy stonework, a statue of its patron saint perched above the main entrance. Dude’s hands are bound behind his back, and he’s wearing noth- ing but a loincloth. Five or six arrows stick out of his body, but he’s got this smug look on his face like he’s about to say something.

The driver starts the engine, and its low rumble calls me back to reality. I turn around and climb onto the bus. Wallace waves for me to join him in the back, but I pretend like I don’t notice and slide into an empty seat a couple rows be- hind Coach Campbell and Coach J. They don’t even bother to take attendance. Coach Campbell tells the driver we’re all set and then leans back, folds his arms over his broad chest, and closes his eyes. Even Coach J — who’s usually so positive you want to slap him — just flips open the scorebook and shakes his head. They didn’t say a word about the whole Bunny thing tonight, but they must have been as sore as we were see- ing him suited up in St. Sebastian’s red and white instead of Whitman’s purple and gold.

But whatever. The bus rolls out.

I readjust my earbuds and turn up my music. I consider finishing this book we’ve been taking forever to read in En- glish class, Of Mice and Men, but I decide I’m not feeling it. So instead, I gaze out the window and watch the rich suburbs surrounding St. Sebastian’s slide past. My parents always taught me to be content with what I have, to value people over stuff. But still, these are some big-ass houses.

I also try not to think of the game. I mean, it’s not like ball’s my life — I’m not even a starter. But my brain keeps pushing it into my thoughts. This loss hurts more than most. Not that anyone expected us to win tonight. St. S was a pow- erhouse even before this season, before they stole Bunny. That didn’t stop me from fantasizing that we’d destroy them and Bunny would realize he made the wrong decision.

Last year, when he was still on our team, we went twenty and nine. Even made it to the semifinals of sectionals. This season: ten and seventeen. Didn’t even qualify for the post- season. Unforgivable for a team that’s produced its share of all-Americans in its day. I mean, we even lost to William H. Harrison High this year.

William H. freaking Harrison.

Maybe I won’t play next season. It’s not like I’m that good. Main reason I tried out freshman year was because Bunny wanted me to.

But the worst part? He didn’t even talk to me about all this. Went away for a week to DC with his AAU team for nationals in July and came back with the news that he was headed to St. S in the fall.

I realize I’m clenching my jaw and tensing my shoulders. So I take a deep breath, try to let it out real slow and even. Bunny doesn’t care about me anymore, so why should I care about him?

Wallace comes up from the back of the bus and drops heavily onto the seat across from me. I sigh on the inside, because I’m not up for pretending to laugh at the dumb jokes I’m sure he’s about to crack. But all he says is “You cool?”

I nod, then he nods and turns to look out his window, like all he means to do is keep me company.

Grateful and exhausted, I close my eyes. The track I’m listening to ends, and the next one begins.

Bunny

My hands are so cold the warm water hurts. I clench my teeth and count down from thirty. The pain will pass. Always does.

Sure enough, by the time I get to zero, my fingers feel like fingers again instead of icicles. I shut off the faucet, pat my hands dry on my hoodie, and then head back into the living room.

Jess is on the couch wearing a big sweatshirt and winter cap because the heat’s broken again. She’s got a fat textbook open on her lap and a yellow highlighter in her gloved hand. But her eyes are on the TV, where the news is playing real quiet. Justine and Ashley, our little twin sisters, are curled up against her on either side under a pile of blankets, asleep like they had a real hard day in the second grade.

I pick up the ball from the other end of the couch.

“You really going back out there?” Jess asks. Her eyes are locked onto the old guy on the screen going on about politics or something.

It’s tempting not to. Trust me. It’d be real nice to unlace my sneakers and take it easy the rest of the night. Maybe play 2K or plop down on the couch right here or go over to Keyona’s place. I mean, I did have a full day of school and a hard workout at practice.

But then I think of the playoffs. We’ll start with a bye since we were seeded first, so we’ll play on Friday for the quarterfinals. Four more days to get ready.

I also think of Mom busting her butt working the grave- yard shift at the hospital right this very moment and Dad’s bookstore not doing so hot. I think of Jess sitting in front of me studying hard but still racking up student loan debt. I think of the twins buried in blankets because our landlord doesn’t bother getting anybody over here to fix the heat like he claims he will and leaving the oven open doesn’t warm the whole place.

I know there are people out there who got it worse than we do, but there’s people who got it better, too. A lot better, and they’re probably not even working as hard.

“Yup,” I say. “Right back at it.” “Isn’t it cold?”

I shrug, pull my own knit cap from the front pocket of my hoodie, yank it down over my head, and then flip my hood up. “Like it’s summertime in here?”

“You’re crazy,” she says, though I’m thinking the same thing about her spending all that time studying to become an underpaid social worker someday. If I’m going to work hard for something, you better believe it’s going to pay the bills. “Aaron said he called someone about the furnace.”

“Right,” I say. Aaron’s our landlord, who lives in the suburbs. “In the meantime, feel free to burn those to keep warm.” I gesture toward the kitchen table at the stack of col- lege brochures that’ve been flooding our mailbox for the last few months. Schools can’t send me specific recruiting stuff until June 15, when I officially become a junior, but until then they can send me all the junk mail they want, apparently.

“Mom and Dad would kill you,” Jess says, laughing.

I laugh, too, because it’s true. They’re collecting each and every one so that we can go over them together when they have time. They won’t let me toss one until we’ve read it all the way through and discussed the pros and cons, even if it’s from some small school nobody’s ever heard of before, like the University of Chicago in Nebraska or something wack like that. But the problem is they both work so much that that pile of brochures will probably reach the ceiling before long.

I say goodbye to Jess one more time and then head back outside, careful not to make too much noise as I close the door behind me. Out of habit, I glance up at Nasir’s window across the street. His light’s on, so I think about rapping on his door and asking if he wants to come with me. But then I think of him turning his back on me at the vigil the other day and then him acting like I didn’t even exist during our game, so I roll out by my lonesome.

The streets are empty. The houses are dark. Don’t want to wake anyone, since it’s a Monday night, so I hold the ball on my hip with one hand and bury the other in my pocket as I make my way to the courts. I walk quickly, with my breath puffing out in front of my face. Nasir and I must have made this walk together a million times throughout the years. One of us would play offense and the other defense as we went up the sidewalk. If the defender could steal the ball, then we’d switch. Most of the time I was the one dribbling. Not that Nasir was that bad, but I knew him well enough to know that his eyes would flick downward right before he’d lunge for the steal, and that’s when I’d cross over and spin, slipping past him to run the rest of the way to the court, laughing as he trailed behind. But sometimes I’d let him swipe the ball away just because.

That was how it used to be, though. Now I’m always mak- ing this walk alone, putting my moves on ghost defenders. Wondering if I made a mistake.

After a few blocks, I reach the park. It’s behind the com- munity center on the other side of the soccer and baseball fields, far enough away from any houses that I don’t feel bad dribbling once my feet hit the blacktop.

There’s an empty forty at center court. At least whoever left it didn’t bust it and leave the blacktop littered with shards of glass like they sometimes do. I go over and pick up the bottle with my right while dribbling with my left. Toss it into a trash can and then turn back to the hoops.

It’s not as nice as St. Sebastian’s gym, but this is my home court. This is where I started really playing ball with Nasir once we graduated from the low-hanging crate nailed to a telephone pole on our block. I know every crack and dip like the back of my hand. I know if the shot’s going to drop by the sound of the clang when it hits the steel rim. I know the lights click off at ten but you can still see enough to keep shooting if the moon is bright.

This is where I’ve lost and won a thousand games. Where I drained that half-court shot as a sixth-grader to beat the high school kids. Where I broke my nose catching an elbow on a drive and didn’t get the foul shots. Where I dunked for the first time and nobody was around to see — except for Nasir.

This is my home court. Our home court.

I toss up a rainbow, which sails through the netless hoop. But I’m not here for three-pointers. I’m here for fadeaway, midrange jumpers — the shot I blew three times during to- night’s game. If I’m going to lead St. Sebastian’s to another state title, I can’t be missing that action every time.

After grabbing the rebound, I reset at the top of the key. Lower my dribble and visualize my man crouching low, hands up like they teach in basketball camp. I start counting down from ten. At five, I fake right and then cross over to the left. At four, I turn and back the dude down, and at three, we’re a few feet inside the arc. At two, I pivot and leap. At one, I release the shot at the peak of my vertical. At zero, I fall backwards . . .

The shot falls short and glances off the front of the rim. I chase it down, return to the top of the key, and restart.

Dribble, cross over, back down, pivot, fade away, and release. Another brick. Another rebound.

I keep repeating the motions. Each dribble echoes across the night. The soles of my sneaks scrape over the concrete with each motion. The wind picks up, frigid and stinging. My fingers and toes start to feel numb again, begging me to quit, to save it for practice tomorrow.

But I don’t.

I dribble, cross over, back down, pivot, fade away, release.

Rebound.

Reset.

***

Bunny and Nasir’s journey has only just begun. If you want to read more of this incredible YA for fans of THE HATE U GIVE and ALL AMERICAN BOYS, pre-order it from the links below!

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Books-a-MillionHudson

IndieBound

Powell’s

Target

#hmhteen #hmh teen #amreading #books #sports #excerpt #excerpts #booklr #yalit #ya lit #THUG #the hate u give #after the shot drops #kwame alexander #sportsbooks #sports books #basketball

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skillfulwolfworld · 5 years ago

Text

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook | reader

Summary: Selene is a young 21-year-old who has done the impossible to be a young top producer, top dancer, and singer. Trying to make a name for herself was always hard, especially when she doesn't want handouts from her father is who is a big-time producer too. One day her father calls saying he needs help with a company called Big Hits he just signed on with. What will happen?

Rated: 18+ as for language, future smut and etc.

Author's Note: Welcome be patient with me as I have all this in my head and trying to put it down on here. All are fictional and times will not be accurate. This will be a series hopefully you like it. Thanks

Chapter: 1

You think being 21 I be out partying living with no care in the world and off of my parent's money. But nope here I am sitting in a boring meeting about what class we each need to teach later this week and what dance moves to learn.

"Do you think he ever gets tired of his own voice at all?" Breaking my thoughts as Ash whispers in my ear scooching closer to me. Stifling a laugh I look towards Josh who loves to keep any meeting going for as long as he can.

"Now that I doubt, you know he loves being center of attention. I mean look he always gets a big head when he does them. Good thing I already know the schedule and plans." Still looking ahead towards Josh as I whisper back. Ash sighs while mumbling under her breath as she fixes her blonde hair in a messy bun.

After another thirty minutes, Josh finally lets everyone go for the day. You would think he wouldn't ramble on after everyone practices but nope. Gathering my duffle bag pulling my phone out, waiting for Ash as she talks to a new guy. Pulling my bag on my shoulder leaning against the wall. Feeling my phone vibrate I see my Dads name come across the screen.

"Hey, Dad. Isn't it early where you are, you're okay?" Signaling to Ash I'll be outside in my car.

"Can't I just call my favorite child and see how she is? It's only 6am here." Hearing his deep voice chuckle. Shaking my head I unlock my 2015 black Ford Escape hoping in.

"I am your only child Dad." Kneading my eyebrows together.

"I am messing baby. But you know the early bird gets the worm. Got to keep up with all you younger people. But the reason I called I have a business opportunity for you." Frowning slightly and rolling my eyes from his words.

"Dad you know I don't do your handouts." I can already picture him rolling his eyes like I did.

"Selene Marie this is not a handout, I need your help. You are more into the younger generation and your generation than I am. You have built your name and career without my help. You are an amazing producer." He used his business voice meaning this was serious. Rubbing my hand across my face I stayed quiet processing everything.

"I don't want to pressure you, so give my answer by the end of the day." Still in his business tone. Seeing Ash finally come out and slowly head towards my car.

"Ok, I'll talk to later Dad." Hanging up turning the ringtone up on my black iPhone. I lean my head back closing my eyes, feeling Ash open the door, and jump in the vehicle.

"Oh no, you good?" Keeping my eyes closed I shake my head no. Ash squeezes my shoulder as I take a deep breath.

"Again tell me why I followed my dad's footsteps?" Opening my eye as I turn my head towards her.

"Hmm. From growing up with you, you said was cause you love music and seen struggling artists get help from your Dad taking chances on. You always wanted to be the good guy well girl in the industry just like him." Putting her finger to her lip as she thought out loud. Smiling I push her for being cheesy.

"Okay no more saying cute things like that. But you're right, but it's hard when around every corner my Dad wants to help me. I mean it took two years to get here for people to see me for my work and not my Dad. He called wanting my help on this company." Laying my head on the steering wheel closing my eyes.

'Smack'

Feeling a sting on the back of my head, sitting up I glare at Ash. Who is just glaring back.

"I swear I want to strangle you a lot, Selene." Crossing her arms. "You are one of the top producers in America, so of course your Dad would call you. Not for you being his daughter. You are just being well not smart as it's your dad calling you, not someone else." She huffed shaking her head. As everything became quiet my mind couldn't stop running. Did he really call me for my reputation and I know more about it?

"I hate you, Ash." Smiling as I look towards her. "I thought I was supposed to be the sensible one." Grabbing my keys as I start the vehicle and began buckling up.

"We grew up so it always switches, but you gonna do the job?" She buckles as I pull out of the parking lot.

"I might still have to set ground rules and see what the job is." Quickly look towards her I look forward again as I drive towards our house. She gives a quick nod as she starts playing on her bright pink phone.

Driving can always make or break your mind. Either you are a person who overthinks or clears your mind. You can say I overthink when I drive depending on the problem. After a forty-five minute drive, we make it home to our four-bedroom house we got just a few years ago.

"You want to order out tonight or order out?" Ash laughs as she hops out of the vehicle.

"We can order out I guess, just order whatever I got to call my Dad back." Grabbing my stuff shutting the door and lock the vehicle up. Heading inside behind Ash I head towards the room. Closing my door as I walk to my bed just falling face-first into my black covered pillows groaning. Maybe Ash is right, am I just being difficult as it's my Father who asked for help? I slowly turn on my back as I began to sit upon the bed, taking my hair out of the messy bun its been in since 11 am this morning. Looking towards my window I see it's pitch black outside but still a small breeze that pushes through my open window. Hearing crickets start chirping as I slowly get up and walk towards the window, pulling the curtain open more. Looking down at my purple Fitbit I see it's already 10:56 pm, sighing I walk to my bed in search of my phone.

Seeing the black corner sticking out from underneath the pile of pillows I have, I unlock it going to recent calls. Hovering over my Dad's name as I debated pressing the green call button. Internally what seems like forever I hovered over the green button I finally lightly pressed down, also turning the speakerphone on. Ever get that feeling like your heart is about to explode as you hear those long rings, yeah I feel like that right now. Starting at the phone like that will help my father pick up the phone. After a few more rings it goes to voicemail sighing I end the call.

'knocking'

Walking to my door I pull it open saying "I called Ash he didn't pick up." Looking at her as expecting her to be here for what I decided and said to my Dad. But instead greeted with the smell of Domino's pizza and her struggling to hold on a bottle of our favorite wine Pinot Noir and glasses.

"A little bit of help." She groans as I laughing grabbing the wine and glasses. If anyone knew her they understand she is not the best at being coordinated even when she walks. So her making it to my bedroom from the kitchen with everything was shocking.

"How many times did you drop something?" Settings my phone on the dresser then grabbing the wine and glasses putting them down next. Ash looks at me as she sets the pizza and napkins on the bed looking offended as she put her hands on her hips. Seeing she took a shower and changed into simple pink shorts and a big white t-shirt that was two times her sizes, with her blonde hair was in a side braid.

"I have you know I did not drop anything, as much difficulty as that wine is open." Glaring then turned around to open the pizza box as she pulled out a piece taking a huge bite out of it while sitting on the bed. Smiling I began to pour us some wine. "So he didn't answer?" Mouth full of food wiping her hands.

"Can you not speak with your mouth full of food, but no he didn't. It is only 11:23 am in South Korea. Please don't get any food on my bed this time." Checking the clock hanging on my wall as I take a sip of wine. Seeing in the corner of my eye as she sticks her tongue out towards me.

'Ring Ring'

Picking up the phone as I hit the green button and hitting the speaker before I greeted him.

"Hey, Dad." Walking over to the bed and sitting down, setting the phone in-between Ash and I.

"Sorry, I was in a meeting with everyone here and couldn't walk away." Hearing people talking in the background.

"Understandable, so about the job. What is it you need from me and for how long?" Turning putting my drink down I grab my notepad and pen for my nightstand ready to write important information down. Even though I know it will be in the contract if I said yes.

"Of course. I have the contract here if you sign. It's Big Hit boy band group that is needing help with just a dance instructor and help with some songs made. Nothing too over the top as I've helped them with a good direction to go in. You will be signed for 6 months. Also, you are decent with your Korean language?" Hearing papers shuffle in the background as he fiddles looking to make sure he covered everything.

"Yes, I am decent with the language. Everything sounds good. I will have to make sure I am covered here but I don't see why not to come there to help. But I don't want you hovering me." Ash squeals lightly clapping her hands. Lightly smiling at her as I write down everything hearing my father laugh from hearing Ash.

"Of course, I'll set your travel time to leave Thursday night. So Friday afternoon when you get in we can sign the contract and I'll show you around the building on the weekend so you can relax afterward." His voice finally losing his business tone going into his father's tone.

"Sounds good, give me a good day and a half to send emails to everyone and pack. Just send me the details, also you know Ash is my helper when it comes to dancing. I'll pay for her as I need her help, can you just get two tickets?" I look towards Ash as she beams from her spot. Hearing a few chuckles from the phone.

"Of course. I will see you both in two days. I'll send everything to your email. If any problems let me know. I have to go to another meeting. Love you." He sighs as I hear more people come closer to him.

"Ok, will do. Love you too." Hanging up the phone, I set my notepad and pen on the nightstand and grab my wine to take a big drink. Glancing at Ash, seeing her smile big as she can.

"So I'm guessing you are happy to come help?" I say when I finish my wine and set the empty glass down.

"Well duh I mean we get to go across the world and get paid for it.!" She jumps up and starts dancing.

"You realize we have to work right and won't have much time to relax." Giving her a serious look as she finally settles down. Nodding while her face turns serious.

"Yeah yeah I understand. But still, it's gonna be a new experience. I don't think I will be much help in the talking department though." Looking straight at me, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"I didn't need you for the language you are there for your dancing and if anything I am sure if I'm not around someone will translate for you." Smiling I get up from my bed stretching and finally grabbing a piece of pizza. Moaning as I take a bite and savory the taste as it hits my tongue.

"Do you have to make that type of noise when you eat. Ugh, I'm leaving got to make sure I have everything for the trip." She gathers up the pizza box, wine, and her glass as she slowly walks out closing the door behind her as she tries hard not to drop anything. Then I hear her yell "Take a damn shower you smell like sweat!"

Laughing I finish my pizza, grabbing my laptop from the desk bringing it to the bed as I type in the password I looking at the clock on there then groan. Midnight great this is gonna take forever to send everyone an email. But knowing I only have right now to send this is the best time to now. Huffing I began to send the dance studio and my clients explaining I took on another client and will be away out of state for about 6 months. That if any problems arise they could email me and we can work out the problem when it was a good time for them and me. Writing a few encouraging words I sent the emails.

Rubbing my eyes I see the clock read 1:56 am, logging out I get up from my comfy spot. Setting my laptop down I start to gather everything for my shower finally. Settling on a dark purple tank top with a black sports bra and gray shorts, walking into my bathroom I turned on the turned. Washing away all the tension from practice and stress from today's events. Washing and conditioning my hair I began scrubbing my skin with lavender body wash, what seemed like a 10-minute shower was really a 45 minute one. Stepping out I started my night routine with face washing and brushing my teeth.

Opening the bathroom door you see the steam roll out, walking slowly back to my king bed as I sit on the edge French braiding my hair. My body losing energy after the relaxing shower I climb under the thick cover. Checking my phone one last night I see an email my father sent about the travel details. Deciding ill read it tomorrow I slowly drift off into a deep sleep. The only noise to be heard was from the crickets outside in the dark.

#bts fanfic #jungkook #series #fanfic #bts fic #bts jungkook #bts x reader #kookie #Sinful Duty

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yutark · 6 years ago

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— protecting his throne

You’re led down the hall by a staff member early in your day at TRC Entertainment, to Tiger JK’s office. When you step into the room, he’s seated behind his desk, appearance far more casual than would be expected of a company CEO. He motions for you to sit just as casually, and the lawyer you recognize from when you first signed your contract crosses his arms from where he stands beside the desk.

“We’re both busy people with lots of things to do, so I’ll keep this short,” Tiger JK begins with an amused, close-lipped smile. “It’s already been two years since you first signed your contract with us. Time flies when you’re having fun, eh?” He chuckles to himself, then shuffles through papers on his slightly messy desk. He comes up with a single folder, and glances down at it briefly before he continues. “You’ve grown a lot in your time here so far; I think anybody can notice that. Everyone at TRC thinks we have a good thing going. If you stick with us, I think we can make it a great thing.”

It’s then that he slides stapled pieces of paperwork towards you: your new contract, specifically marked where each new signature is required.

All Yuta wanted was a drink, something to calm his nervous and dull out any bad news he was about to receive. He was certain that he was going to enter into an office and they were going to ask him about what had happened, about if he had gotten drunk, about what he thought he was doing, and then tear his contract up in front of his eyes. Even after talking to Chanyeol and Sowon, he didn’t know how he was going to explain himself. Every part of him was screaming that if he had to, he’d drop down on his knees and beg not to lose his spot in TRC. It was pathetic, it made his stomach twist in knots and he couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten. But he was also desperate, nearly more than he had been when he went to the TTC and sat in his room, cutting the cast off his arm because he swore it was going to ruin any chance he had at getting signed. A metaphor that came close to gnawing off his arm to get what he wanted.

This time, was worse than that.

The last time he’d been in Tiger JK’s office, he was apologising to him. Words he strung together, hoping he didn’t mess up, even though he practised them a hundred times. He doesn’t know what hits him first, how casual Tiger JK looks at his desk or how the air isn’t thick with the tension -- or trainers, ready to punish him again. Yuta doesn’t retain the moments it takes him to sit down, he only blinked and he was dropping down in the chair. His eyes darting to the door, as if he were marking his escape route in case of emergency, and then back to his CEO. A man he’d looked up to since he was a teen boy, someone he’d listened to with his friends back in Japan and made stupid declarations of how they were going to better rappers than he was one day. Yuta had done everything he could to be here, and he only ever realised that when he was on the grips of losing it.

Listening to Tiger JK speak, casual and at ease, even chuckling makes Yuta’s racing heart slow down. Yuta silently catching up with what is actually happening, eyes darting to the shuffled paper and the single file. It’s fast or slow, Yuta can’t tell, but he takes the paperwork. A need to see it with his own eyes, read the words. Relief rushes through him immediately, a smile widening on his lips and for the first time, he speaks. “Really? You want me for another two years?” It’s an honest expression, something Yuta rarely shows to anyone. Happiness wouldn’t cover it; euphoria, with a mixture of validation and feeling as if he had a place. Throughout his two years in TRC, he’d struggled and he’d made enough of a mess that he thought it would be the end of everything. Despite that, TRC still wanted him, Tiger JK still wanted him. He wasn’t going to give them a chance to change their minds on it.

It doesn’t take much to reach for the pen, sitting up straighter in the seat, and going to each of the markers where he needed to sign. Yuta leaving his signature in a thoughtless manner, just as he had when he first signed. Too happy and delighted at the chance than thinking about what it would mean. His eyes flickering form the last of his signatures, to Tiger JK, and then biting on his bottom lip. There was a part of him that thought he shouldn’t, that he should have been feeling lucky as it was, but there was a rush of excitement. “You don’t have to answer now, but..” Yuta struggles to hold back the smile. “I just want to ask if you’d think about letting Sowon noona, and Yeollie and me, release a song together. Maybe Somi or Jinsoul too. Sowon noona and Yeollie, they can write and produce it together.” There’s a pause, knowing it was unlikely, but he wanted to ask, regardless. “We’ve all been through a lot together and before we get more and more trainees, or one of us leaves. I’d like to do it together with them.”

“And you can show off how even after Karma debuted, you still have trainees here that are scarily talented,” he lightly jokes, finding some of his typical ego.

Yuta scratches the back of his head as he leans back, smiling at Tiger JK. There was a pressure resting on his chest, knowing it was better that he leave his CEO to do whatever he needed to do now. “That’s all I want to ask,” he finishes, climbing up from the seat, taking a pause when he’s on his feet and bowing. The happiness still remaining on his features, although a glint of mischievousness rises in his eyes as he speaks. “Thank you for believing in me. I’ll keep working hard. I won’t give up easily, so make sure to watch out. I’ll be a better rapper than you one day.”

OOC NOTE: First of all, congratulations to two years as a trainee! I know it’s been a long and crazy journey, and I’m so glad you’ve stuck through it. When you are ready, feel free to post this prompt with Yuta’s response to it.

Should Yuta choose to RENEW his contract with TRC, he will sign on to the same agreement as before for another two years. As a reward for making it this far, he will receive ONE WEEK unpaid vacation time to use any time between now the start of September, so long as it doesn’t clash with any special trainee activities.

Should he choose to REJECT his contract with TRC, he will leave the company, effective immediately upon rejection. He will be able to keep all of his debut points, but will not be able to take any trainee workshops or earn any more debut points/workshop points until he becomes a trainee again. He will not have any special advantage over newer characters when he auditions for other companies in the future, and should he become a trainee at a new company he will be considered a junior trainee all over again, even though he will still have his debut points and would be eligible for debut right away. He WILL have the right to audition for TRC again, but the fact that he gave up a contract renewal WILL be taken into account in final casting decisions.

He will have up to one week to make his decision IC, meaning that if he does not make a decision by JUNE 16TH, he will automatically be cut from the company. Exceptions can be made for those on hiatus.

#( trc. )#submission

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featherypromises · 6 years ago

Text

My Brother's Keeper

At long last, this fic is finished. It never seemed completely done until now. Thank you for your support and patience! I apologize for the length, but I have no clue how to shorten it under a "read more" link yet. 💜

My Brother’s Keeper:

Jimin woke up the morning after their latest performance feeling more tired than when he had gone to sleep the night before. They had out done themselves with this most recent show. ARMY had screamed so loudly that they could barely hear themselves speak or sing. The love of the fans gave them the strength and stamina when they felt utterly spent. The vocalist stretched, feeling his neck and shoulders loosen and pop. He yawned, and immediately winced as his throat protested. Yes, he had sung his heart to ARMY, but he didn’t think he had overdone this much.

A pathetic sound shook him out of his thoughts. It sounded like a cross between a whine and a groan. Since Taehyung’s room was right next to his, it was a safe bet that the odd noise had come from there. There were no other sounds that he could hear. Jimin quietly moved past the closed door to Tae’s room and out into the common areas of the dorm. It was already after 10am… How had he slept so late?...

As he passed the kitchen, a colorful piece of notepaper caught his eye. He instantly recognized Hobi-hyung’s large bold handwriting.

{Jiminie!!! I know that you will be up long before Taehyungie will be. Rapmon, Yoongi-hyung and I will be at the new recording studio working on the new rap sections of the new songs. Kookie wanted to come along, once we woke him up enough. Oh, our little Jungkookie! He wanted to come and rap with his hyungs! Cute!

Just so you know, Seokjin-hyung left this morning to visit his family before we get really busy again., so the manager is taking him. He made breakfast before he left, so help yourselves sleepyheads! We will see you later.

Yoongi took our phones away, so that we don’t get distracted during recording… TT.TT He’s so cranky in the mornings… Just because I woke him by laying down over top of him… so grumpy. Oh, well… Enjoy your rest day!}

Well, that explained the unusual silence in the dorm. Jimin smiled at the idea of J-Hope-hyung waking Yoongi-hyung up that way. At times, Hobi-hyung’s infectious energy and dramatic flair reduced Min Yoongi to breathless fits of giggles, but sleep was sacred to the oldest rapper and he kept such abnormal hours when he was producing songs, that most people (that wanted to live until their next birthday) gave him a wide berth when he was sleeping.

Despite the closeness that the maknae line had with their hyungs, there were still some boundaries that you just didn’t cross over. With Seokjin-hyung, you should never leave food out of the fridge or forget to tell him that you used the last of an ingredient, so he could buy more. With Rapmon-hyung, you didn’t mess around during interview practice. Hobi-hyung, although usually the perpetual optimist and good-natured, was a strict dance teacher and the neatest member of BTS dorm. He also flatly refused to tolerate dirty clothes being left on the bathroom floor or in common areas. Min Suga-hyung… let’s just say the Maknae line learned quickly when not to pester or tease him. The rapper could be like a pressure cooker: his feelings clamped down and hidden until he was pushed beyond his typical stoicism, for good or bad.

Jimin shook his head, at the thought of Hobi-hyung’s antics, as he went to get juice from the fridge. He found that he wasn’t very hungry, which for him was to be expected after a show, but the dryness and rough feeling in his throat needed to be dealt with. He glanced out of the window, the day was overcast and promised to be cooler than the last 3 days. The cold tile floor of the kitchen made him shiver.

He headed to the living room with his drink and sat cross-legged on the sofa, letting his neck stretch out over the low back of the couch. As he sipped at the juice, he looked through his upcoming schedule on his phone. Today he was free and tomorrow, but the next day was a promotional event for the new album.

From where he sat, he heard a door open and close again, followed by a shuffling sound of slippers. Taehyung must be up then. The second youngest member appeared in the entry to the common area, swathed in a thick robe and a warm looking scarf. His face was still puffy from sleep and he walked as though each step was a trial of endurance, whining pathetically.

“Jimbinie!!! I thig I’b dying! Take care of Tan for be when I’b gone!” The slightly younger boy dragged himself over to Jimin and promptly curled up on the couch with his head in Jimin’s lap, facing the other vocalist’s stomach, “I’b soooo tired and… RAESSSHH!!! I keep sneezing. I thig we and out of tissues. Ughhh… I used so many last night. My nose hurts…”

Jimin rolled his eyes at the younger singer’s ingrained inability to cover himself when he sneezed. No one’s ears or clothes were safe around Tae when his allergies got to him. Or… when he was sick…

With that thought, Jimin gently placed a caring hand onto the forehead of the squirming lump in his lap that was still bemoaning his bad luck.

“... And my face will never look the same as it did! I’b sure of it! Mby nose looks worse than when I got that sunburn last year. Do you thig that the Stylist-Noona could help…? Hmmm, maybe not…” Tae paused to unleash a violent double, “REFFFTT!!! HAESSSCH!”

Jimin blinked in the wake of the gale-force trauma. Taehyung had been so absorbed in his thoughts that again he hadn’t turned away at all and had sprayed Jimin’s face and outstretched arm as well. The older boy struggled with feelings of disgust for a moment, but just sighed, wiping his face with a clean part of the t-shirt he had slept in.

“Well, at least you don’t seem to have a fever. You just caught a cold, Tae-tae. Did you take any medicine?”

Tae thought about that idea for a moment, before shaking his head,

“Not yet. I hadn’t thought about it.” His face lit up like a light bulb, “Oh! We should ask Seokjin-hyung, if he has some!” The younger man always thought Jin had the answer, no matter what the question was. Jimin shook his head and started to reply, only to have his voice come out as a barely audible squeak. He cleared his throat with a wince. Definitely, a sore throat, then. Either he hadn’t noticed how tight his throat had been while he was performing last night or… could he be getting sick too? He could worry about that later. He tried again,

“Seokjin-hyung is visiting his family today. The others are brainstorming for the rap sections of the new songs at the studio.” Jimin chewed his lip thoughtfully, since he was the only member close by and he was older, he would have to be a good hyung to Tae until the others were back. He eased a protesting Taehyung off of his lap and pulled the fluffy throw blanket that decorated the couch over the younger member. “I will check to see if we have any medicine and then I’ll come right back.” Tae’s lower lip protruded about an extra inch, but he nodded in agreement.

Returning to the kitchen, Jimin began to comb through the cabinet for the members’ first aid supplies and medicines. He was forced to pause his search as an urgent tickle formed just behind the bridge of his nose. The feeling was so strong that he shuddered as it pitched him forward the soft but intense, "Hiiphhitshu!", sneezing into cupped hands. This amplified and changed the noise making it sound hollow and tired to his own ears. He sniffled against his wrist experimentally. Good, his nose hadn't started running. That would have been embarrassing. He finished searching first the kitchen, followed by the two bathrooms. For all his efforts, he had found only an empty foil pack of cold pills in the bathroom closest to Namjoon-hyung's room. Great..

Returning to the living room, Jimin found the younger member fast asleep, his arms clamped like a vice around a throw pillow. The sight made him smile. He had to go and get back quickly. Jimin wrote a quick note saying he was going to the small corner store down the road to get more medicine. He attached the note to the water bottle and left it on the table where Tae would see it.

Jimin wanted to get this errand done as quickly as he could, so that the others would have one less thing to worry about when they got back. He grabbed his comfortable sneakers and left, jogging down the sidewalk.

The day was darkened by granite colored clouds shifting overhead. Jimin felt a drop of rain fall onto his hair, then another hit his forehead. This drop rolled down his nose, triggering a pair of ticklish sneezes, "iiiphitchhhuuuuuh! Hiisshhu!" This time he felt his nose start to drip, he wiped the liquid away with a knuckle, and shivered as another drop struck his neck and ran down his back under his t-shirt.

It was then that he realized that he hadn't changed before leaving. He was in the same comfy pair of sweatpants and t-shirt that he had slept in. He hadn't even thought about bringing a jacket with him. He would have to move faster then… He began to run as more drops fell, changing the world around him.

About 5 minutes later, he entered the small, locally-owned store. He bowed an apology to the granny behind the counter for getting her floor wet. She brushed off the apology and said,

"It's no trouble. You shouldn't be out walking in this type of weather like this. Please be careful of your health."

Jimin grinned, touched by her kindness and sniffled before asking if she sold any cold medicine. She clucked over him and his wet clothes with grandmotherly gusto, and led him to a small section of tablets and dissolvable medicines. Jimin selected both nighttime and daytime cold pills and a few boxes of tissues. As he walked up to the register to pay, he happened to glance outside. His face fell; the rain was coming down a lot harder now.

"Um… Halmeoni? You wouldn't sell umbrellas here would you?" He asked sheepishly, feeling like a grade schooler who hadn't studied for a pop quiz.

The older woman shook her head,

"I'm sorry, young man, but we sold our last one this morning. I don't even own one to lend you, since I live just upstairs."

Jimin reassured her that he would be alright and tied the tops of the bags shut tightly to protect the purchases from the weather, before leaving the store. The rain was like a curtain, making it harder to see and hear. He was running, but he was still getting drenched. The lower parts of his pants were wet up to his shins. His shirt was worse, but the most annoying part was his hair being plastered to his forehead, dripping cold water into his eyes.

The temperature outside seemed to drop as he ran. His strong legs, used to dancing, did not do as well at dodging puddles. He hunched his shoulders against the chilly breeze that blew more of the downpour into his face, and pushed himself to run across the street to the turn off for the dorm.

A passing car heedlessly finished what the weather had started, sending a spray of water over Jimin, like a miniature tidal wave. With a soft curse, he kept running until he reached the overhang of the door to the dorm. Although he personally thought not many situations warranted this type of language, he was sure this was one of the few that did. He could feel the congestion building in his head, as he entered the warmer building.

Jimin slumped against the door as it closed behind him, his soaked shirt and pants clung to him like a second skin. He doubled over as the need to sneeze overpowered him again, his hair raining droplets as he shook from cold and the force of the sneezes,

"H'diiitssh! Hiiiissssh!" He sniffled and let out a small groan of displeasure. He dropped the bags inelegantly to the floor and stumbled as he tried to remove his shoes and peeled off his socks, heading straight to his room. Once he had changed into dry clothes, he really wasn't shivering that much… just more than he would like to be. Over the dry sweatpants and tee, he put on the warmest sweater he had. It was about two sizes too big for him, but that added warmth. His hair was still wet, but he really should check on Taehyung.

Upon entering the living room, he found Taehyung awake and watching Iron Man on the couch, he was giggling at the puns and sniffling by turns. When the younger member saw Jimin, he started.

"Whooah! What happened? I woke up and you were gone. Did you just get out of the shower?"

Jimin just smiled, amused by Tae's obliviousness to the note on the water bottle he held.

"I had to go get a few things…"

Taehyung interjected with a loud,

"HAAAEFFT!", again aiming openly at the air in front of him. Jimin frowned, wiping water away that was dripping from his hair. He untied the bags and gave one of the boxes of tissues to the younger member. He popped 2 tablets into Tae's hand with a weary smile, "Here, these should help you to not feel so bad."

Taehyung thanked him enthusiastically, but noticed that Jimin's hand was shaking as he was handing over the pills… and the not so subtle sniffle into the cuff of his sweater sleeve.

"Jiminie! You aren't sick too, are you…?"

Jimin wanted to crawl under the carpet. Tae would pick now to pay attention… Fixing a smile on his face, he opted for a safe answer,

" It's rainy and cold outside, Tae." Taehyung frowned,

"But that's not what I asked?"

Jimin was saved from answering by the sound of a commotion by the front door. Hoseok, Namjoon, and Yoongi-hyungs came in followed shortly after by Jungkook. All were mostly dry, but looked tired and ready to relax for a change. Jungkook and Namjoon-hyung were squabbling over English spellings for the rap verses.

Hobi yelled over the din that he was going to grab a shower.

"I don't have time to get sick!"

Jimin heard this comment and mentally kicked himself. None of the group had time to be sick right now. He was just going to cause problems for everyone, he should just hole up in his room until the worst was over. Better that, than to have the group incapacitated because of him.

Min Yoongi, ignoring the battle of Leader vs. Maknae, came into the living room. He blinked in surprise as he saw Tae and Jimin. His normally sleepy eyes taking in Tae's pale face and chapped nose, all the cold pills and tissues on the table, and finally Jimin.

"What in the hell happened to you two?"

Jimin blushed, but again was in-tae-rupted. Taehyung was holding out both arms to Yoongi like a giant sized toddler while still sitting on the couch. He barely recognized the sneeze that tore out of him like a freight train,

"HAAARESSSSH! HYUUUUUNGG! Welcombe back!"

The quiet rapper walked over to Tae and gently, but firmly lowered the younger man's arms. Yoongi-hyung's dark eyes searched Tae's face and the older member laid a soft hand on the vocalist's cheek. After a moment, Min Yoongi exhaled, apparently his examination showed no signs of fever. Taehyung closed his eyes, enjoying the attention from his hyung. This was poorly thought out, however as he received a hard flick to the forehead from the exasperated man in front of him. Tae clutched at his forehead and cried out with exaggerated protestations.

"Yoongi-hyung! Why would you do that to me?!? I'b sick!"

"Exactly, babo! What business did you have getting sick anyway? Damn it, this is going to be a long day." The older man rubbed at his own face vigorously with both hands, as if trying to wake himself up from a nightmare.

Hearing Taehyung's cry of indignation, the leader and maknae entered the living room. Kim Namjoon saw immediately that Tae was mostly fine, since Yoongi-hyung had been sure of this enough to reprimand the young vocalist. The leader knew the other rapper well enough to know that if Tae was really in bad shape, Min Yoongi would have been full of quiet concern, instead of lectures. Tae was pouting now with all his might, causing Kookie to burst into a fit of giggles. The leader smiled and added insult to injury by saying,

" Yoongi-hyung is right, Taehyungie! You should have taken better care of yourself." Rapmon glanced at Yoongi, whose attention had shifted to the other vocalist, who was trying his best not to shiver, without much success.

"Why is your hair so wet?" Demanded the older rapper, imperiously. Jimin flushed bright pink again and couldn't bring himself to meet the older man's penetrating gaze. When Jimin hesitated, Rapmon moved towards him purposefully. He felt Jimin's face and neck as the younger man shivered violently at the touch of his hyung's cool hands on his skin.

"H-hyung… his skin is like ice!" Namjoon actually stammered in his surprise. Yoongi-hyung's eyebrows instantly met each other in the middle of his forehead, the only visual indication of concern that he ever really showed. The older rapper joined the younger in front of Jimin. His long-fingered hands, felt carefully for the glands through Jimin's neck. He raised an eyebrow as the vocalist winced at the tenderness in his throat.

Jimin sighed in defeat. He had tried so hard not to give his hyungs any reason to worry about him. He felt tears prick the corners of his eyes and quickly blinked them back. Min Yoongi proceeded to feel the young man's forehead, frowning. He asked much more gently,

"What happened, Jiminie?"

Jimin inhaled, but instead of words, he suddenly released a congested sneeze into cupped hands. His head shook, not unlike a dog shaking off bath water, and the same type of result happened. RM and Yoongi shielded themselves with their arms as the raindrops were redistributed around the room. Jimin sat down hard and buried his face in his hands and murmured an apology.

He heard Rapmon's deep voice, "Don't." The one word had multiple implications.

Jimin raised his head shyly and saw four pairs of eyes looking at him. Tae had come off of the couch and was scooting along on his bottom until he was right beside Jimin. He wrapped his arms around the sicker boy and looked up at Kookie, Yoongi-hyung and Rapmon-hyung's faces.

"You weren't here and I wasn't feeling well. Jiminie-hyung went to get medicine." Tae said sweetly.

Namjoon's eyes widened,

"You… you were out?... in that?" His voice cracked in shock, as he gestured wildly at the window, showcasing the pelting rain still falling outside. Jimin nodded, a single tear trickled down his cheek.

"We should have checked on you both this morning and… Jimin… are you… oh no, don't cry, Chim-chim!" Jungkook looking shattered, crouched down and wiped away the teardrop and the next two that fell, as he spoke. Yoongi-hyung's hand moved Kookie aside gently, and helped Jimin to stand putting an arm around the younger man's back.

"Namjoonie, get Jimin to bed, I'm going to make some soup for him and Tae. Keep him warm, we don't want him getting worse." The oldest rapper turned to Jungkook and told him " Kookie, go grab a towel and some of the cold pills for Jimin."

Jimin,quiet until now, was pushed beyond his emotional limit. He had made such a mess of things. He felt at that moment that the earth swallowing him up would be preferable, to being guided by Rapmon from the living room. He broke down in heartbroken sobs.

"Hyung! I'm so sorry! I wanted you to not have to worry about Tae. But I just made things worse!" Tears were streaming down his cheeks and Jimin was pretty sure his nose was running too. Rapmon took a gentle hold of the young singer's shoulders, giving him a gentle shake.

"You never make anything worse. You, me, all of us. We are a team, we rise or fall together. You are doing your best just like we all are. Everyone needs someone. We are just lucky to have 6 people each that care more about us than anyone else in the world. And caring means showing your whole self to your family. Good, bad, all of it."

Jimin wiped his eyes on his sleeves, and sniffled, his breathing reduced to small, shuddering pants. Namjoon-hyung was still looking at him with kindness. Not angry or frustrated with him as most people would be, when dealing with such an inconvenience after a long day of work (which they loved in spite of the stress).

In Jimin's room, the leader of BTS pulled back the covers from the bed and helped Jimin to get into bed. Rapmon was not liking the lack of color in Jimin's face.

"Can you tell me how you are feeling?" He asked, not wanting to put additional pressure on the sick younger man,

"I want to be able to help…" after a moment's pause, he added, "It's a curse… if I am not helping, I am not alive." He grinned, showing off his dimples,

"Seriously, when you aren't feeling well, tell us. It gives me a good feeling, if I can help someone. Did you feel good helping Tae?"

Jimin nodded slowly, his emotional breaking point had come and gone, leaving only bone deep exhaustion behind it. He lay back against the pillows and sighed, as his hyung pulled the covers up around him.

"Okay, then, it's the same for all of us hyungs. Having someone rely on you is scary sometimes, but it's the best when you or Tae-tae or Kookie have an easier time because we could help you through something hard. This,..." Rapmon said, gesturing to Jimin's tissues and tear stained sweater,

"This is your "something hard" right now. Okay? I really want to help you feel better; anything I can do to help, I'd love to make this easier on you." Slowly, Jimin reached out and took his leader's hand. Rapmon gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

"My throat, it hurts a lot. It wasn't this bad earlier. My head is stuffy, and it's hard to breathe sometimes. I'm sneezing a lot, and tired, but I think I will be okay after food and rest."

Namjoon smiled at Jimin and ruffled his hair tenderly. Jimin felt the tell tale prickling feeling and scrabbled to get tissues in time, flinging himself away from Rapmon. He sneezed wetly into the tissues,

"H'phhhiish!! Isssh! Hih-hhhhssshuu!"

"Wow!" Namjoon applauded comedically. Jimin smiled falteringly, before turning serious, anxious eyes on his leader.

"You should go, Hyung… I don't want any of you getting sick because of me." The worse case scenario played out in his head in an instant, of 7 ill members unable to sing or dance properly, unable to greet fans and compounding illness with exhaustion. This thought chasm was sinking him lower into the same feelings of self-loathing and anger at his own weakness again.

To Jimin's utter shock, instead of shying away or agreeing with him, the leader of BTS pulled the younger man into a tight embrace.

"We are a team." Namjoon repeated firmly, "If I left you all alone feeling this way, I would never be able to forgive myself or call myself a leader. We love you, Jiminie! We can't and won't just abandon you in here. You'll never get rid of us."

There was a soft knock on the door, before Tae popped his head in.

"I'b coming in…" The other sick boy shuffled his way to the bed, and climbed in with Jimin. Jimin started to protest that he didn't want Tae getting worse, but Taehyung only smiled and cuddled up to his next oldest friend and said matter-of-factly,

"Suga-hyung is bringing soup and he told me to come in here."

The door opened to reveal Jungkook with the promised towel and behind him came Yoongi carrying a tray with two bowls of soup. Kookie began to dry of Jimin's hair at long last and placed the towel like a shawl over the older boy's shoulders.

Yoongi passed the steaming bowls to the two sick maknae line members and nodded in satisfaction as they began to eat. His hand came to rest on top of Jimin's head in a comforting gesture.

"No more keeping things from your hyungs…" stated Yoongi-hyung flatly, "Even if I take the others' phones away so that they focus for 10 seconds in a row, mine is still always on. We can't leave all the singing to Kookie, or he'll get more full of himself than he is already." The startled a laugh out of the sick pair.

Suddenly, the laughter was broken by a frustrated yell coming from the bathroom,

"Where the @#$! is my towel?!?!?" Hobi screeched.

Everyone turned to look at Jungkook, who shrugged, and burst out laughing. Jimin felt his insecurities fade as his family's laughter rang out through the dorm. With them, he was home.

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