#got the headline. immediately opened my phone to make this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kimsohn · 4 months

Text

even if the world caves in,

pairing . chanhee x gn! reader (ft. vernon of seventeen) about . 13.5k words, fluff + angst, e2l fake-dating warnings . smoking, alcohol, cursing, suggestive (allusions to sex at the end), descriptive food mentions, y/n and chanhee are idiots chanhee lowkey doesn't deserve y/n, the plot kinda doesn't make sense but fuck it we ball ok, pls lmk if i missed things bc i probably did, also i wrote most of this at ungodly hours of the night and this is not proofread take this as your warning

synopsis . after your big break in cinema, the last thing on your mind is a relationship. unfortunately for you, the public has other plans, forcing you together with the journalist who's entire career is dedicated to your downfall. note . this is my submission for @deoboyznet's secret santa fic exchange! hihi @heemingyu i'm your secret santa!! (i'm so sorry this is like two days late and probably rushed forgive me) i went through like four different plots before settling on this one and writing it in one week 😭 i hope you enjoy!!! also thank you to @juyeonszn for staying up until 6am to beta for me what the fuck. ilysm. tagging . @invuwrld @gfksn @stealanity

Lately, the only thing that seems to greet you is the buzzing sound of your phone, incessant until silenced by your tired fingers.

You reach over as you stir awake, the action almost second nature to you as your hand catches ahold of the sleek object. You hit random buttons until your desired effect comes into play, answering the phone call and putting it on speaker, and you already know who it is before their voice even drifts through the microphone.

“Y/N! Get your ass up, you’re on the headlines.”

“Again?” you whine, rolling over in bed. “Is it good news or bad news this time?”

The man on the other end laughs, bitterly, and you push yourself off the bed in response. Your manager laughing, especially like that, is nothing amusing, and you rub your eyes as you try to get yourself awake.

“Oh, it’s bad, alright. Open your fucking phone, Y/N.”

You do exactly that, immediately thumbing over to Twitter and seeing your name trending. Afraid of which one of your many stupid decisions has made the headlines today, you press the hashtag, cringing at the first picture.

“Of course, they got pictures of me drunk,” you mutter, scrolling through the list. “Wasn’t this Juyeon’s private party, like months ago? How did these photos leak?”

“It doesn’t matter Y/N,” your manager sighs from the other side, and you feel a twinge of guilt for always putting him through this situation, “you’re an actor. Nothing in your life is private anymore, especially you pole dancing on top of the bar.”

Your facial muscles twitch as you come across the aforementioned picture, seeing yourself busting out dance moves on the marble. You have to hold back a laugh, seeing how something so ridiculously insignificant is dragging your name through the mud right now.

“But Vernon, you have to admit, the pictures are kinda hot.”

He grumbles on the other side before he cuts the call, and you fall into bed giggling, scrolling through other pictures. You have a cigarette in one hand and a tequila glass in the other, and that explains why you remember absolutely nothing about that day.

A text notification appears at the top of your screen, and you swipe down to see none other than Vernon who you were on call with five seconds ago. He’s sent you the link to an article followed by a message.

This is the article that leaked the video. Check out the name.

You click on the link, and your face falls at the name of the website. It falls even more when you see the name of the writer, and you press your fingers to your forehead. You immediately call Vernon again, watching the phone ring twice before he picks up.

“Can we fucking blacklist him, Vernon?” you seethe, gripping your phone tightly.

“I’m afraid not. He’s just a journalist, not a stalker.”

“He might as well be with the way he’s always up to date with my private information.”

You punch your pillow, watching your fist pathetically curl into the bedding. It doesn’t have its intended effect, only reminding you of how weak you are physically and mentally. You don’t get into scandals often, probably because you’re a rare, good person in the horrible field that is Hollywood, but whenever you do, you have one journalist to thank for it.

“I told you, nothing is private in your life anymore.”

Vernon goes off on a tangent about how you should’ve been more careful, how you shouldn’t have drunk your ass off, but you can’t find it within you to care. There was technically nothing wrong with what you did (except for maybe the indecency, but it’s a bar for fuck’s sake), but as a famous actor with a huge fanbase, you understand why your manager is angry. Dancing on top of a counter and smoking should not be the kind of precedent you set for your fans, especially the younger ones, and your actions have a lot more weight to them now that you’re in the public eye.

It’s just stupid because you’re a regular person. At the very least, you deserve to have some privacy regarding decisions you make, especially ones that are so insignificant.

“Vernon,” you interrupt, “it’s okay. My movie is coming out later this week, so I think it’ll die down quickly.”

“I know, but you’re lucky that this was a trivial issue. If you get caught in something truly fucked up, another movie won’t be able to save you.”

“I’ll be more careful. I promise.”

He hangs up, reminding you that you have a screening to attend later today and an interview. Your eyes drift back to the article again, reading the headline.

Hollywood’s favorite celebrity turned dancer.

You shut your eyes, breathing in and out so you don’t lose your composure. The universe is lucky you’re a rational, decent human being because if you weren’t, the writer who’s been practically harassing you would’ve been long eliminated by now.

Choi Chanhee, you read, familiar with the name. The infamous writer that’s always on your tail. It’s as if he dedicates his whole life to ruining you because he’s always the first to write things that make your crown slip. Almost all of your scandals, from particularly stupid ones at the beginning of your career to your most recent one, have been written by him. He’s practically obsessed with you at this point, and you don’t know what it is about you that ticks him off.

You toss your phone to the side, trudging over to the bathroom to get ready. Unlike Chanhee, you don’t have the time or patience to worry about trivial things like gossip pages. Choi Chanhee is just one, minor obstacle in your way. Just someone insignificant.

A long time ago, the flashing lights of cameras would’ve blinded you. Now, as a seasoned actor, you’re quite immune to the brightness that surrounds you when you walk the red carpet. You smile and pose, reveling in the cameras and the interviews that follow, asking for details about your current movie and the process behind the scenes.

You’ve just finished off an interview about the movie’s wardrobe when a black-haired man comes up to you. The lens of his thick glasses shines against the cameras in the background, and you have to look down to avoid the glare from the reflection.

You read his name tag and your face drops. You immediately look up, putting on a forced grin.

“Choi Chanhee. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He smiles, and the corners of his mouth curl as if he knows of your extensive distaste for him.

“It seems you know who I am already. Let’s get started with the interview then. First question: do you have anything to say regarding your latest scandal at the bar?”

You’re gritting through your teeth as you answer.

“No comment. Next question, please.”

“What are your opinions on the latest controversy surrounding Lee and Co., the production company behind your movie?”

He fires off a few questions, all as controversial as the last, and the only thing that keeps you from slapping him right there and then is your media training that Vernon had drilled into you while in the car.

“He will be there,” Vernon had said, fixing your watch, “don’t give him anything to work with. Just focus on promoting your movie.”

You’ve followed his advice for the solid ten minutes Chanhee has bombarded you, but even your patience is wearing thin. You’re tired of being asked about the same scandals repeatedly from different angles, and you have to admit that even if he’s doing an amazing job as a journalist, it’s not looking good for your conscience.

“Chanhee,” you interrupt, watching him pause in the middle of a question, “do you have any substantial questions about the movie, or are we done here?”

His face contorts as if he had just been thrown tomatoes at, and the devil in your brain beams from his expression. He flips through his notes, flicking through a couple of pages before landing on one that’s up to his liking.

“Okay, one last question then. Who was your favorite person to work with during this movie?”

You pause, mulling over the question. You watch as his eyes traverse his notes, and you wonder what trick he has up his sleeve. You guess that he will probably bring up something about the person who’s name you’ll recite, so you think carefully before answering.

“I don’t have one particular favorite. I love them all,” you answer honestly and safely, with no room for scrutiny.

He nods, shutting off the recorder before packing his bag and giving you a slight bow. The narcissist in your brain revels in how good he looks bowing down to you, but you pay your respects in return.

“Thank you for your time, Y/N.”

You watch as he saunters off, probably off to his crew, and you blink a few times before shifting your attention to the next reporter with an eager smile.

Hours later, you find yourself outside, exchanging the chaos inside for a fresh breath of air. Your director has indulged in an after-party, one you’re grateful for too, but after a couple of glasses of wine and many more hours of talking to fellow celebrities, you need a moment of solitude.

The air outside is crisp and cool, and you find yourself wishing you’d brought your jacket out to accompany you. Your vision is slightly blurry and your stance is wobbly, but you find a bench nearby to take a seat at. You stare at the pond across from you for a while, throwing rocks into the water and watching how far they travel.

A cigarette accompanies you, and the puffs of air you release are visual representations of how relaxed you want to feel. You’ve just released a movie, and you should be thankful, but as an actor, your mind never rests due to the endless possibilities you can ponder over. Moments like these where you find yourself completely alone, with nothing to worry about, are rare, and you try to curb your mind from ruining the moment by overthinking.

However, your moment of peace is interrupted by a loud shutter behind you, and you quickly turn around, afraid of what the paparazzi would say if they caught you like this. A figure disappears around the corner, but as you hear the clacking of their footsteps, you know exactly who it must be.

“Chanhee, I know it’s you.”

Moments pass before he steps out from behind the wall, holding a camera in his hands. The object, in contrast to the suit he wears, is so uncoordinated that you burst into a fit of laughter, over-emotional from the wine you had earlier.

“Why are you laughing?” he asks cautiously, treading the waters.

“I didn’t know you were a photographer too! You’re an all-rounder for sure.”

“Look,” he whispers as if his guilt will excuse his actions, “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay.” You pat the empty space next to you. “Here, sit next to me.”

He takes a seat warily, as if you have a gun in your hands, but relaxes once he sees you dangling your feet. It’s uncharacteristic for him to be sitting next to you, heck, even interacting with you, but you don’t seem to really mind as you throw another rock into the water.

“Why do you hate me?” you ask, staring at him with glossy eyes. “What did I do that was so wrong?”

“Are you drunk?” he asks instead, realizing this isn’t the pristine condition he saw you in a couple of hours ago.

“It doesn’t matter,” you sniffle. “What did I do to make you absolutely despise me?”

Chanhee sighs, staring at the ripples in the pond. He picks up a rock, swinging it as far as he can before it settles to the bottom of the pool. It goes way farther than any of the rocks you’d thrown before, and you pout miserably as you cease your ministrations.

“It’s my job. I get paid for writing about your downfall.”

“But… you don’t have to be so mean about it.”

Chanhee recognizes that he won’t get anywhere with this argument because you’re drunk, so instead, he turns to you, placing his hands on your shoulders so you look at him.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? Here, I won’t even post the pictures that I took today.”

He deletes the pictures from his camera, showing you after it’s done, and you surprise him by throwing your arms around him. You’re too far gone to realize the weight of your actions, but he isn’t, so he tries to gently pry them off his shoulders.

“Thank you,” you whisper after he’s done, slumping across the bench half-asleep, “thank you for being nice. For once.”

He blinks once, twice, before he exhales, turning around on his heel and disappearing into the darkness. Later, when Vernon picks you up from the bench, you tell him that a pretty fairy saved you from disaster. He won’t believe you, but you know it’s true in your heart.

You’re nursing your hangover when you decide to turn on the news. You settle into your comfortable couch, holding a bowl of hangover soup and trying not to succumb to the pain radiating throughout your forehead.

Not often do you watch the news, choosing to opt out because it’s usually annoying and gives you a headache, but Vernon’s somehow using two devices to watch his show on Netflix so you’re forced to resort to this. You think you might die if you don’t distract yourself from the migraine that’s been occupying your senses, so the news will have to suffice.

You flick through the channels, not interested in the politics or the weather, but your fingers pause when a bright pink headline catches your eye. It’s the gossip channel, and this is usually the channel you’re warned to stay far away from, but you can’t help but watch the video playing when the headline specifically features your name.

Y/N caught in a secret relationship, embracing a secret lover by the pond.

Your mood turns sour when the clip features events from last night, ones that are still fuzzy in your brain. You didn’t expect to be reliving this situation, but your heart all but drops when you realize the snippet features you and Chanhee in the frame, hugging each other as if you had indeed been lovers. The worst part is that Chanhee didn’t even reciprocate, but that isn’t featured in the headline, so it truly does look like you two have a thing for each other.

This time around, you call Vernon first instead of the usual.

“Y/N,” he whispers groggily as if you had woken him up, “what happened?”

“Please turn on the fucking news Vernon.”

You hear shuffling from the other side, a few minutes of rustling before you hear the blaring of the TV and a similar sound drifting through his microphone. You get a few minutes of pin-drop silence before all hell breaks loose.

“Who the fuck is that?!” he exclaims, and you hear his feet angrily pacing around. “Was this last night? I thought I told you to be more careful, to look out for your surroundings—”

“Vernon, it’s Chanhee.”

The only thing you hear from Vernon is his angered breaths, and it takes mere seconds before you burst into tears, fed up by this situation and the terrible migraine you still have. You just want to curl up into a ball and never step foot into the universe again, and your resolve only strengthens when the line goes dead. You can’t help the tears that come to bay, rippling through you like a shockwave that never seems to end.

Insistent knocking at your door a few moments later is the only thing that stops the tears from falling, and you quickly wipe them before opening the door. Vernon stands at the other side, his hands in his pockets and eyebags above his cheeks, but his gaze softens when he sees your puffy eyes and you hugging yourself.

He brings you into his embrace, your tears staining his hoodie, but neither of you can find it in yourselves to care. Vernon just caresses your back, knowing the only thing you need right now is a gesture of comfort, and you burrow into his chest further. Right here, in the middle of your entryway, Vernon provides you with the best version of reassurance he can offer: a simple, caring hug.

“I was drunk,” you mutter when you’ve calmed down, speaking through the sniffles that escape you, “and we were just talking. You know I get touchy when I’m tipsy.”

“I figured,” he says, unraveling himself from your embrace. “Does the press know it’s him?”

“No, but I expect they’ll find out soon enough.”

You follow him as he takes a seat on the couch, watching the headlines on the TV. The gossip channel has long moved on from your news, but you haven’t, and fear of what will happen to either you or Chanhee is killing you.

“We need to contact him before then,” he voices, grabbing his phone from his pocket. “I think I know someone from his office.”

“Wait, why?” you ask, trying to peer over at his phone, watching him scroll through his contacts. “Wouldn’t it just be best to let the rumors die down?”

“If this was a celebrity, we could’ve done that. But Chanhee is a regular human being, and this could potentially destroy his career.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” you murmur under your breath, watching Vernon deadpan.

“Look, I know you hate him, but he doesn’t deserve to be criticized for something he didn’t even do. Let’s just talk to him and see what he has to say, okay?”

You nod, falling back on the couch. The migraine still bothers you, and you rub your fingers across your forehead to massage it.

Five days ago, you would never have expected to be in this position. To you, Chanhee was just a name on a screen, a faceless figure haunting your dreams. How fitting is it that his very first encounter with you led to your worst nightmare?

You hear Vernon dial his contact, watching the phone ring several times before a line picks up. Vernon speaks gratefully, grabbing the pen and paper that you have lying around on your coffee table as he scribbles down some information.

“We have a meeting,” he says, showing you the piece of paper, “in five hours. Be ready by then.”

Just what exactly have you gotten yourself into?

The bright lights and white walls in the meeting room make it look like a prison cell, and the atmosphere does absolutely nothing to calm your nerves. You’re tapping your foot anxiously, sitting in an unfamiliar space in an unfamiliar building, but Chanhee requested a meeting in his office building, and you have no other choice but to go with it.

You’d be lying if you said you were nonchalant about the whole atmosphere, but you try to keep yourself composed as you wait for him to enter. Vernon sits beside you, going through some papers in his briefcase that only a manager would know about, and his presence is the only thing keeping you grounded right now.

“Just let me do the talking, okay?” he’d said before entering, “The last thing we need is another argument on our hands.”

Even though the comment offended you, you honestly would be better off trusting his judgment. You and Chanhee don’t exactly have the best track record, and if either one of you says something even slightly off, the room would probably explode into insults. You honestly don’t even have the strength anyway to hold up a fight, so you slump into your chair, adjusting your jacket and reeling in your patience.

The doorknob twists and you and Vernon straighten your postures, trying to look presentable for your audience. Chanhee enters, followed by a blonde-haired who you’d assume to be his boss, and you rise so you can shake their hands. Chanhee ignores your attempt at waving a white flag, choosing to shake Vernon’s instead before sitting down at a seat, but his boss smiles and grabs your palm tightly in his.

“Hello, I’m Sangyeon. It’s nice to meet you.”

You exchange pleasantries as you sit down, and once you get over the initial awkwardness, you shut your mouth and wait for Vernon to speak up.

“So, I’m sure you guys have seen the news and are well aware of why we’re here.”

Sangyeon nods, urging him to continue.

“I understand what you might be feeling right now Chanhee,” Vernon follows, catching Chanhee’s gaze, “and we’re extremely sorry for the trouble that this has caused you. However, I have a proposition that might benefit both parties, if you are interested.”

Chanhee’s silence prompts Vernon’s explanation, and you lean in, curious about what he has to say too. Vernon had offhandedly mentioned that he had a deal to make, but you don’t have the slightest clue as to what he’s about to propose.

“I was thinking we play into the rumors. We can say Y/N and Chanhee met at a press conference and hit it off a couple of weeks ago. After we plan a few more appearances, we can stage a public breakup in a few weeks so that everything can go back to normal.”

You blanch, ready to refuse the idea, but Chanhee beats you to it.

“Why would I agree to a relationship with Y/N?”

“Hey,” you start, offended by his implications, “what’s wrong with dating me?”

Chanhee scoffs.

“Don’t even start, Y/N. This is all your fault after all. I didn’t know you liked me that much that you couldn’t keep your hands off me.”

You’re seeing blood red, crazed at the malice behind his words.

“I was tipsy! And how was I supposed to know that someone was stalking us? If anything, it was your fault for deleting those pictures and being nice to me.”

The room erupts into chaos as you throw petty insults at each other, similar to a catfight. It takes Vernon holding you back physically to get you to calm down, but even after you’ve calmed down, you’re still staring daggers at him.

“Look, Chanhee, I understand this is not ideal for either of you given the nature of your jobs. But if you think about it, when the press finds out that it’s you in the picture, how will you be able to resume your writing? Who will take you seriously if you write hate articles about the very person that you were caught with?” Vernon asks, trying to reason with him.

Chanhee falls into silence, and he looks at his manager. His manager offers him a pitiful glance, knowing that Vernon is right.

“You don’t have to be lovey-dovey with each other,” Vernon continues, hoping to ease the terms. “You just have to appear in public for a couple of dates. We can use your old articles to prove that you guys have had romantic tension, so we’ll have background evidence too. When Y/N breaks your heart in a couple of weeks, you’ll have the perfect reason to continue writing hate articles.”

“It’s like enemies to lovers to… enemies, right?” Sangyeon asks, humming after Vernon nods, “I think it’s a good idea Chanhee. You’ll gain a lot more exposure after the whole thing is over too. If we continue going as it is, the press will ruin your career, and I’d have no other choice but to fire you. I think this is the best decision for your future and the company.”

Chanhee sighs, rubbing his temples. As much as you despise him, you can sympathize with the fact that he has a difficult decision looming over his head. The fate of his career rests in your hands, the person he’s dedicated a lifetime to ruining, and you can imagine just how insane his internal conflict might be.

“I’ll do it,” you voice, watching the room’s reactions carefully.

Chanhee’s eyes shoot up at you, clearly not expecting your admission.

“I would hate to be the reason you had to quit something you love. Besides, I’ve been in too many scandals recently anyway; I think a relationship could do my career some good.”

You don’t know if your attempt at a joke resonated with him, but his shoulders relax and he bores his eyes into you. His eyes are sharp and feline-like, but his brown pupils are almost the exact opposite, thoughtful and deep. He’s a little pretty, you realize, when he’s not trying to sabotage your entire career.

You’ve tried to stay level-headed after your argument earlier, as a gesture to Vernon, but you can’t contain your surprise when he nods a few minutes later.

“Okay, I’ll go with your plan. But I want four weeks, not five.”

“Deal,” you say, reaching over with an open palm before Vernon can even say anything.

This time around, Chanhee does reciprocate your gesture, shaking your hand firmly. The white flag flies freely over your heads, and you can only pray that these next four weeks will be over just as quickly as they started.

The news blows up fairly quickly after it’s published, even faster than any of the scandals you’ve been in. After the announcement your companies sent out confirming your relationship, you posted a picture of Chanhee to your Instagram story to show support from your side. Never have you garnered so many notifications in a single day, but you’re not complaining. You suppose your fans have also been waiting for you to get into a serious relationship, seeing that you’ve been single since your acting debut, so the update is received with a mostly positive reaction that you’re thankful for.

However, just the news and a picture alone aren’t going to cut it. Arguably, the hardest part of this whole ordeal is your interactions with Chanhee, making your relationship believable enough so your fans don’t think this is the PR stunt like it really is. Your first order of business is taking Chanhee along on a date tonight to a movie premiere, the first actual public appearance you two will be making.

To say you’re nervous is an understatement. The last time you saw Chanhee, it took Vernon’s presence to stop you from biting his head off. How will you even survive a whole event together, let alone act like a couple?

You tell Chanhee to show up a couple of hours earlier so you can plan out the details, unable to keep your nervousness at bay. You don’t know if Chanhee is as anxious as you, but Vernon always says it’s good to stick to a plan, so calling him over isn’t the worst idea you’ve ever had.

Actually, it might be a little bit bad.

“Wow,” you say, your throat suddenly parched from seeing his clothing, “you clean up nicely.”

Nice is the simplest you could describe his outfit. He’s wearing a black suit, indented polka dots scattered across the black cloth. Paired with a white shirt underneath and matching tie, along with those round glasses that are definitely growing on you, he looks just like another A-list celebrity in the crowd. Maybe even a model if you would care to admit it.

“Thanks,” he mutters, unbuttoning the jacket to strew it across your couch, “it’s kinda hot in here, no?”

You would agree, but your mind is currently occupied with how delicious he looks in just a simple white shirt and a tie. You have half a mind to tell him that he really should quit his job and become a model instead, but you settle for nodding instead.

“It’s probably because of all the facial stuff we did earlier,” your stylist Kevin says, walking over to place clips in your hair, “it’ll calm down in a little bit.”

Chanhee’s eyes widen when Kevin enters, his eyes staring at you in panic and moving over to Kevin before they travel back to you. You laugh, amused with how seriously he’s playing the part.

“He knows,” you reassure him, “most of my close staff know, so you don’t need to worry.”

Chanhee exhales in relief, his head drooping down into his arms. Kevin meets your gaze before quirking an eyebrow, and you shake your head, not wanting to indulge in his teasing.

“Okay,” Chanhee says after he’s calmed down, leaning into the couch, “what’s the plan?”

“Well, since this is our first time in public together, we can keep it simple,” you start, wincing when Kevin tugs on part of your hair a little too hard, “maybe holding hands, walking next to each other, maybe a hug if we’re up for it.”

Chanhee looks disgusted, and you honestly can’t even disagree with him. You’re not exactly happy about jumping straight into skin-to-skin contact with the guy you hate, but this is the bare minimum for a relationship and you intend to follow through.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you sigh. “You do know that we’re going to have to kiss at some point, right? This is probably the tamest we’ll get.”

“Hey, don’t haunt the poor guy,” Kevin says, pulling out a makeup palette. “Just take it slow, okay? It’ll be a while before you get to that stage.”

You disappear into your bedroom to change after Kevin is done with your styling, and Chanhee visibly relaxes once you’re gone. It’s not like he wants to murder you with every fiber of his being, but something about you puts him on edge, and he can’t tell what it is.

“Are you still stressed about the kissing thing, dude?” Kevin asks while packing up his supplies. “Y/N’s just saying that to scare you, so don’t worry. Besides, after you see them in this outfit, you might change your mind.”

Kevin leaves with a wink, and Chanhee is left to scramble for its implications. You can’t possibly look good enough to kiss, right? He’s seen you countless times, and the only time his resolve ever-so-slightly wavered was when he saw you in person about a week ago. That was because you were drunk, though, of course. Not because he was facing you, flesh to flesh, for the first time in his life.

His overthinking ceases though when you step out of your bedroom, and he can’t stop Kevin’s words from floating through his brain.

You’re beauty personified, he thinks, from the tips of your curled hair to the bottom of your glass footwear. The silver-length outfit you adorn is something to die for, heck, you are someone to die for, and Chanhee can’t even breathe because he just imagined you standing next to him and the room is suddenly very, very hot.

“Ready to go?” you ask, adjusting a couple of rings on your fingers.

Chanhee dumbly nods, now realizing why literally everyone is in love with you, and he stands abruptly. He follows you to the front like a puppy dog before you turn around and start giggling. He doesn’t even register you speaking because suddenly, your giggles aren’t annoying and all of your sounds are like songbirds from heaven.

“You forgot your blazer, silly. Here, I’ll get it.”

While you turn back around, walking to the sofa, Chanhee slaps himself. Gently, of course, because he doesn’t want to ruin his face before the red carpet, but just enough to remind himself of his position in this whole scheme. You’re a celebrity, obviously you look good, and he can’t lose his morals just because you look stunning after being dolled up.

You’re a celebrity and he’s a journalist. A journalist who gets paid to antagonize you. Realistically speaking, even just meeting you should have him seeing red. He should not of all things, be pretending to date you, and he definitely should not be reconsidering his life decisions after spending two hours with you.

He just has to get through these four weeks. You’ll be out of sight, out of mind before he even knows it.

“When the cameras start flashing, just look forward. Don’t ever look at them straight in the eye, otherwise, you’ll feel dizzy.”

Chanhee grumbles as you continue rambling, but you can’t find it within you to stop. You’ve never had a public relationship like this, especially with someone who’s not a celebrity, so the desire for perfection is getting to you.

Any small thing could fuck this up and not only ruin Chanhee’s career but yours too. What would the public think if they found out you were lying about a relationship? Heck, you wouldn’t be able to trust your own self after that, let alone the public.

“Y/N, it’ll be okay. It’s just handholding and a hug, right?”

“Yeah, but we need to look like we’re in love,” you huff, your head drooping as you play with your fingers in your lap.

You feel a hand cup the side of your chin, bringing you up to Chanhee’s gaze.

“Look at me,” he starts, thumbing your cheek, “we’ll be fine. Just stare into my eyes like this, and no one will ever doubt us.”

You don’t get to tell him that you might be believing it too with the way you can’t stop gazing at the twinkle in his eyes and the fondness in how they crease. You’ve met many gorgeous celebrities in your life, but not once have you ever felt your heart beat so heavily until this moment.

“We’re here,” Vernon interrupts from the front seat, breaking your intense gaze, “get ready.”

The flashing blinds you as soon as the car door opens, but you’re immune to the glares at this point. Chanhee, however, is not, so your only focus is being by his side until you walk inside the venue. You exit first, waiting until he steps out beside you before interlacing your fingers together and offering him a chaste smile, hoping it’ll calm his nerves.

He grips your hand tighter as you walk, and you both ignore the press shouting from around you. The screams seem extra prevalent today due to his presence, and you hope he isn’t feeling bombarded by the chaos around him. You focus on Chanhee, watching as he stares back at you to ground himself. You walk quickly in unison with him, counting your steps and smiling for the camera as you finally step inside the entryway.

“Are you okay?” you ask after you’re situated, having a few minutes of peace before you’re off to star on the red carpet. “I know that must’ve been a lot.”

“It’s fine. It’s over now. It was chaotic, but it helped to just focus on you.”

A twinge of heat flutters across your cheeks, but you pay no attention to it.

“I’m glad. Don’t worry, we don’t have any more red carpets in our schedule.”

He unlaces his fingers from yours, something you’d completely forgotten about, but you don’t have time to mull over the loss of his warmth before Vernon pushes you to the red carpet to get ready for the pictures. You take deep breaths, reveling in the mere seconds you get before the flashing starts again and you are simply an object for the camera. You pose, striking a big grin for the camera and remembering your media training. This is what you do best, being a celebrity, and suddenly you find comfort in this familiarity after all the turmoil you’ve been through the past couple of days. No Chanhee, no relationship, no headlines, just you and the camera like always.

However, you can’t stop your eyes from wandering when you get a break, watching Chanhee converse with Vernon. You let your daydreams drift, wondering how he would look like posing next to you for the camera, how he would laugh and answer questions about your relationship so giddily, or even how he’d stare into your soul like earlier before, bearing his heart for the taking.

You know that he won’t even meet your gaze after the four weeks are over, but you let yourself indulge in your imagination anyway. You’ve been touch-starved for so long, so it’s only natural that you have these thoughts about affection, right?

You walk back to Chanhee after you’re done, joining him and Vernon as you travel the venue. The place looks spectacular, with intricate chandeliers and a whole buffet of delicacies, and you make it a point in your mind to compliment the mastermind behind this all, Juyeon, when you see him.

Vernon leads you guys over to the food, piling the spring rolls on his plate until you glare at him to stop. Chanhee restrains laughter behind a mouth full of cupcakes, but even you have to agree with Vernon’s eagerness when you take a bite of the macadamia cookies. You’re on your fourth one when Juyeon saunters over to you, his goofy grin ever-so-present on his face.

“Y/N! Long time no see, right? I haven’t talked to you since my party months ago.”

“It’s been too long. I love the venue, by the way. You always outdo yourself.”

“Don’t talk to me about outdoing things. Look at you with your new boyfriend!”

You glance over at Chanhee, who’s busy trying to see how many spring rolls Vernon can fit in his mouth. You grimace, turning back to Juyeon. You know Vernon’s your manager, but sometimes it feels like you have to keep him on a leash instead of the other way around.

“Yeah it’s… a recent development, but I’m happy.”

“I’m surprised you got into a relationship in the first place. After you rejected me, I kinda thought you weren’t looking for love.”

Juyeon clutches his chest in fake agony, and you roll your eyes. Juyeon asked you out years ago when he was the director of your film, and he never fails to bring it up whenever he sees you. You still aren’t looking for love, of course, but your recent news is probably a shock to Juyeon and the many other people you’ve rejected over the years.

“I’m not incapable of love, Juyeon,” you sigh, looking back at Chanhee again, “I just needed to find the right person.”

The word love has never meant anything special to you, but when you look at Chanhee, you feel your heartstrings pull at your chest. Finally having a boyfriend, even if he’s fake, means you have the ability to love and be loved, and maybe you’ve been denying yourself happiness far too long for the wrong reasons.

As you wave Juyeon goodbye, sauntering over to Chanhee, you walk with a change in mindset. The situation you’re stuck in isn’t perfect, but you decide that it’s best to make the most out of it.

“Y/N, watch out!”

Suddenly, your whole world turns upside down, and you brace yourself as you fall backward, watching the twinkling of the chandeliers above you. You shut your eyes as a reflex, expecting the hardness of the wooden floor beneath you, but instead, you feel a strong hand supporting your back. You open your eyes to see Chanhee, but as his orbs bore into yours, all words tie on the tip of your tongue.

This close to him, you can see his faint eyeliner, the slight curve of his nose, and the barely visible mole on his top lips. It feels like the world is spinning still, but as Chanhee breathes, exhaling a soft puff of air, your gaze remains grounded only on him as he cradles you gently.

The sound of a camera startles you both, and Chanhee pulls you up, staring at Vernon. You smooth down your clothing, clearing your throat as you eye the culprit.

“What was that for?” you ask, throat slightly parched by what happened mere seconds ago.

“Whatever practice you guys did together before coming here definitely worked, because this picture definitely looks like you’re in love. I’m gonna leak it to a local magazine, so good job for today’s work.”

Your cheeks burn as he shows you the picture, and your gaze flits over to Chanhee. His expression is indiscernible, and you have the sudden urge to know exactly what’s running through his mind. Was he just as affected as you, or was this just a mere act of kindness?

The rational part of your brain hopes it’s the latter, but the heaviness of your heart might have different aspirations.

Your phone dings as you finish applying the last bits of your mascara, and you pad over to your couch, seeing Chanhee’s text message on the top of your screen.

Be there in five.

It’s been a week since Juyeon’s movie premiere, a week since your heart has practically gone haywire. You’re a celebrity, if anything, you’re the last person to be looking forward to a text, but you found yourself checking Chanhee’s chat every morning and being disappointed when nothing rolled in. Even when Vernon’s picture leaked and the internet blew up over your coupling, his message bar still remained dry and lifeless.

He didn’t have any reason to text you anyway, so you wonder why you always looked forward to one.

You were the one to reach out first, letting him know that you had a date scheduled for Saturday night according to Vernon’s schedule. A meeting once per week was mandatory, just to keep up the image, and today’s plan was a nice, fancy dinner at a restaurant.

Chanhee, like a true gentleman, offered to pick you up instantly after you’d sent him the message, and you let yourself feel elated for five seconds before you texted him the time and place. You don’t know why Chanhee reduces you to a middle school girl longing for her crush, but you suppose it’s just because you haven’t been on a proper date in so long.

You’re dressed in blue satin, a dress you’d had no real reason to wear until today, and you’ve tried your best to clean up without Kevin’s help. You send a quick picture to your stylist as you wait, asking for advice even though you know you always look good, but Kevin just sends you a string of heart emojis in return and tells you that you look perfect.

Three sharp knocks on the door indicate Chanhee’s presence, and you open the door. The words on your throat die down when you realize he’s wearing a similar blue satin to yours, and it only takes one flicker of your eyes to meet his for him to start laughing.

“Are you stalking me or something?” he teases, pulling out a bouquet of fresh flowers.

“What’s this for?” you ask, setting them on the vase inside.

“Vernon told me to. He said you always like getting flowers on a date.”

You haven’t been on a date in years, so you don’t know where Vernon got this information from, but you appreciate the gesture nonetheless. The arrangement of peonies, lilies, and daffodils looks stunning on the countertop, and you post a quick picture to your Instagram story before heading out with Chanhee.

“Do you want the aux?” he asks when you’ve situated yourselves in his car.

The wind blows freely as he drives, the night sky twinkling through Chanhee’s open convertible. The rich red color of his Toyota Solara stands out against the deepness of the blackness around you two, but you can only focus on Chanhee’s side profile and the glittering earrings he’s wearing. Up until this point, you’ve only ever been in spaces you were familiar with. Seeing Chanhee in his own car is a completely different atmosphere for you, and you’re not sure how it makes you feel.

“I’m good. Play whatever you like,” you reply, truly interested to see what type of music he listens to.

Paris in the Rain drifts through the speakers, and you have to fight back a smile at the tune. Of course he would play this song on a night drive, judging by its mellow atmospheric feel, but you’re not mad about it.

“Why did you choose this restaurant?” he continues after the song settles, looking over at you when he pulls to a stop in front of a red light.

You have to recenter your thoughts to answer him, bringing your vision back from how ethereal he looks against the red tones of the stoplight.

“It’s been on my list for a while,” you admit honestly. “It’s also not super high scale, so someone will definitely notice us being there.”

Chanhee nods before quieting down as the red light fades into green. You’ve noticed that Chanhee tends to sit in silence when he’s with you, not interacting as much as he had with Vernon at the premiere. You wonder if he’s just naturally silent and hit it off with Vernon or maybe if he’s just hates you.

“Are you always this quiet?” you voice when he slows down due to traffic, not wanting him to feel alienated by the question.

“Ah, not really,” he says, scratching his head, “I just didn’t know if you were comfortable with me talking since we’re technically just coworkers.”

“Oh,” you voice, not expecting his admission.

You didn’t foresee him being so considerate of your feelings, enough to stop talking completely, and the thought warms your heart. Maybe he’s not such a bad person after all, you think, staring at him expectantly.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have admitted that,” he expresses. “I can go back to sitting in silence.”

“No!” you exclaim, and he looks over at you with slight alarm, “I mean, it’s fine. You talking is fine. You don’t need to restrict yourself from speaking just because we’re in a work setting. I don’t mind you talking.”

His shoulders relax as he steps on the gas, maneuvering through the gaps of the traffic that’s slowly clearing.

“That’s good,” he mutters, flicking on his blinker, “cause otherwise, this would’ve been a very awkward dinner date.”

You fight back a smile as he pulls up to the restaurant, and you don’t even have a chance to open your own door before he’s unlocking it for you. You thank him politely before walking inside, side by side with Chanhee. You follow the receptionist to your table once she gets your section cleared, and you’re offered complimentary chips and salsa as you wait for your food to arrive.

“You said this place was not ‘super high scale’?” Chanhee questions, looking around at the décor.

Okay, so maybe it is a little bit classy. The mediterranean themed restaurant has a cozy interior, and you’re currently sitting on wicker chairs by a huge glass window. The setting feels very exposed, as if you truly are sitting outside with the stars hanging over your heads. Subtle things about the place remind you that it’s elegant, such as the intricate menus and the tons of cutlery that sits next to you, but you hoped that it was something more comfortable for Chanhee to acclimate to.

“Why, is it too much?” you ask, picking up a chip.

“It’s not, but this is definitely fancy in my world.”

You smile, watching Chanhee be starstruck by his surroundings.

“Just because I’m famous now doesn’t mean I always was,” you start, “before I got my big break, my version of fancy was a dine-in restaurant.”

He laughs, relaxing a little.

“I didn’t know we were so similar. I just always assumed you were a nepo baby or something like that.”

“Just because you hate me doesn’t mean I’m privileged. I worked hard to get here, you know.”

Chanhee nods as your waiter brings out your food, and the two of you immediately dig in. The appealing smells make your stomach hungrier than usual, and it takes a good few minutes for you to settle your appetite before you start conversing with Chanhee.

Now that the awkwardness is gone and that you have a simple understanding of each other, talking with him is easy. Putting aside all the hatred that’s spewed up these past few months, you find out that Chanhee is actually an amiable person, someone you could’ve seen yourself being friends with if you two weren’t so different. He shares stories about growing up and his family in exchange for yours, and you have to clutch your stomach in laughter when he slips in a joke that matches your taste exactly.

Being with Chanhee is natural, so much that you wish you had met him under different circumstances. In addition to being a friendly person, he’s also a gentleman, from the way he slips his card under the menu without you noticing (you definitely scolded him for it later) and opens the car door whenever you get in and out. As he walks you up to your apartment, you thank him honestly for tonight, regretting that your time together is already over for the day.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers suddenly when you’re outside your door. “I’ve written so much shit about you without being an honest judge of your character.”

“It’s okay, Chanhee. This is what you do for a living, I get it.”

“No, you deserve an apology. You’re an amazing actor and an even better human being. You didn’t deserve a single word I wrote about you.”

You’re not tipsy this time around, but you pull him into a hug anyway. This time, you actually mean it though, and you try to disregard the loss of warmth when he pulls away after a few moments.

“Thank you for tonight,” you murmur, stepping into your apartment. “See you next week.”

He smiles, and suddenly, the room is filled with sunshine.

“No, thank you. See you soon.”

You woke up the next morning with a text from Chanhee. The texts have not stopped coming in ever since you responded, as if you’ve opened the floodgates of interaction. You wish he’d texted you sooner, because even though he bombards you with everything in the world from funny memes to just crying about his day, you love returning the same energy.

Where are you rn, a text flies in, and you smile when you see who it’s from.

on set. wbu?

Driving to somewhere special!

oooh spill??

I’ll let you know after I get there

You frown, not so pleased with his secrecy. You hate secrets, and so does Chanhee, so why is he indulging in one right now?

You don’t have time to mull over it as your director calls you back over, ready to continue with the shot. Your costar Younghoon stands before you, smiling as his assistant fixes up his hair before clearing his throat.

“Ready for this scene? It’s a lot,” he comments, reading over the script one more time.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you sigh, watching for your director’s call.

The line starts rolling a few seconds later, and you immediately straighten your posture, preparing yourself for the scene.

“Hey,” you whisper, “what was so wrong about what I did?”

He laughs bitterly, pointing to the papers on the desk beside him.

“What was so wrong? You ruined my entire career!”

The papers fly around you as he wipes them off the desk in one sweep, and tears well up in your eyes once you look at his angry gaze.

“I’m sorry,” you plead, clutching onto his arm, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know this was going to happen, I swear—”

“You didn’t know?” he asks, although it’s more of a statement, “you’re the editor for the goddamn newspaper! Of course you fucking knew this was going to happen!”

He rips his wrist from your fingers, inching away from you.

“It’s my job to write the news, darling. You have to understand—” you cry, dropping to the ground.

The papers shift around you, and you watch your tears drip onto the headlines.

“We’re done,” he utters, one final phrase before he rips off his ring, throwing it by your feet. “Never speak to me again.”

“And cut!” your director shouts, “good work guys. Take 30.”

Younghoon helps you up from the ground, and you whisper gratitude before brushing off your ankles. The wooden floor was uncomfortable to kneel on, but you’re grateful that it was only for a short period of time.

“Y/N!” you hear from the other end of the room, and you peek over Younghoon’s broad shoulders to see a familiar figure waving.

“Chanhee?” you gasp, walking over to him once he register his voice. “What are you doing here?”

“Surprise?” he replies, giving you the bouqet of flowers he was holding. “I wanted to be a good boyfriend and surprise you on set.”

“Thank you,” you reply, grabbing the flowers from his hands before leaning in closer, “did Vernon put you up to this?”

“Um…” he starts, scratching the back of his head, “yeah, definitely. It’s the middle of the week, so why else would I be here?”

You roll your eyes, leaning back before you reach for his arm, squeezing it tightly.

“Thank you, regardless. No one’s ever visited me on set before like this. Even Vernon.”

“Really?” he asks, sounding surprised, “I thought you would have a lot of people around you like that.”

“I have acquaintances, but they’re all busy too. The most someone’s ever done for me is send me a food truck, and that was from my own mother.”

“Well, I’ll be here from now on, then.”

You feel a pang in your chest, and Chanhee must notice the shift in the atmosphere too because he clears his throat. You both know that this arrangement is already halfway over, so why do Chanhee’s words feel so comfortable, as if you both were in a regular relationship from the very beginning?

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that—”

“Y/N? Is this the boyfriend?” Younghoon interrupts, walking up from behind with an outstretched arm. “Hey, I’m Younghoon, the costar. Nice to meet you, man.”

Chanhee smiles, plastering a smile to cover his previous frown before taking Younghoon’s hand in his, shaking it firmly.

“Nice to meet you too. Y/N’s been telling me about you, so it’s nice to finally put a face to the name.”

Younghoon laughs, removing his hand from Chanhee’s grip.

“Yeah, it’s surreal working on this movie. It’s kinda funny how Chanhee’s a journalist because Y/N plays one in this movie too.”

Chanhee turns to you, surprised by this new piece of information. You’ve been pretty lowkey about the role, not wanting to tell anyone until the movie wrapped up filming, but Younghoon seems to trust Chanhee with the information because he’s your boyfriend.

“Really? I didn’t know.”

You nod in confirmation, grinning slightly.

“Yeah, we just finished up a heavy argument scene before you arrived. Wanna see the set?”

You and Younghoon parade Chanhee around, introducing him to other actors and cast on the set working diligently. Chanhee is in awe, starstruck by the unfamiliar environment and you can’t really blame him. The movie industry in and of itself is a dream, and witnessing it for the first time is probably exhilarating for him.

After your break wraps up, you lead Chanhee out, standing by the front of the garage. He still has stars in his eyes, and you have to nudge his shoulder twice before he pays attention to you.

“Sorry, I just… I wanted to be a director once, so seeing this all is kind of a dream come true.”

Your eyes widen. Whatever you were expecting to come out of his mouth was not even close to what he just said, and you’re still processing his words when you voice your confusion.

“Yeah, that’s how I learned writing and photography. I used to write screenplays and direct them, but I never made it big like I wanted to. Luckily, Sangyeon took me in when I was struggling, and that’s the only reason I have a job today.”

Suddenly, you know nothing about Chanhee. If events had played out a little differently, Chanhee could be standing right in front of you, not as a fake boyfriend but as a director. You wouldn’t be from two separate worlds anymore, and the thought is killing you.

“Do you still direct?” you ask uncertainly, unsure of what to even say after his confession.

“Nah, not anymore. I help my friends out with short films sometimes, but that’s about it.”

“If you ever want to get back into directing, I can help you out.”

Chanhee looks like his breath has been stolen away, staring at you dumbly.

“I don’t know if I can give you a position directly, but I can definitely link you up with fellow directors of mine and see if there are any film festivals looking for submissions.”

“Thank you,” he mutters hoarsely, “I don’t have an answer for you right now, but what you just said means the world to me.”

Chanhee does the unexpected, wrapping you in a hug this time around. It’s meaningful and tender, and he burrows himself into you as he clutches your shoulders tightly, never wanting to let go. The same shoulders that he once tried to pry your hands off are now encircling you, and you smile against his cheek.

“It’s no problem,” you voice honestly, pulling back to look at him. “I’m always here for you, just remember that.”

You told him the last date would be a little different, but seriously, Chanhee was not expecting a van.

You wave from the front seat, putting aside your phone as he scrambles into the front seat. Chanhee quirks an eyebrow at you, urging you to spill, and you take in a deep breath as you struggle to get the words out.

“So… um, you know how celebrity couples usually have pictures of them making out in their cars, right?”

Chanhee stares at you incredulously, and you grimace, biting your lip.

“I know it sounds bad, but it was Vernon’s idea, I promise! We just need to kiss a couple of times for the pictures, that’s it. It can’t be too bad, right?”

“Y/N,” Chanhee sighs, massaging his temples, “are you crazy? We haven’t even kissed once before this.”

“Well, now is a good time to start, right?” you ask sheepishly, “Look, Vernon paid some guys to photograph us, so they’ll be here any time now. Let’s just get this over with.”

Before he can even blink, you clamber over into his lap, resting your legs on either side of his and holding onto his shoulders. Chanhee gulps, too loudly for the silence that settles between you two, and he’s close enough to you that he can feel your heartbeat thumping wildly.

Good to know that you’re just as affected as him too.

You guide his arms around your waist, securing them tightly before looking back up at Chanhee. The last time he’s ever seen you this close is from when he saved you from falling, and somewhere in the depths of his heart, he admits to himself how much he actually missed it. The fluttering of your lashes, the indents of your mouth, and the sliver of your jawline are all something he wants to commit to memory, to burn into his mind before he loses you.

Chanhee would write a whole article just about your lips if he had to.

“Ready?” you ask, so close that he can feel your breath on his.

He nods, and before he can even lick his lips, you lean in, meeting him halfway with yours.

Chanhee feels like he’s in oblivion, completely succumbing to the darkness that you’ve slowly been feeding him with. You’re like poison, and as he slots his lips against yours, he can’t get enough. You’re killing him with the way you pull him in closer, imperceptibly close as if you two aren’t practically molded together already, and as Chanhee uses one of his arms to tilt your neck, you reciprocate with just as much fervor.

You pull back, catching your breath and your chest heaving, but it takes Chanhee only one glance at your swollen lips before pulling you back in again. He’s addicted to the way your tongue swipes across his entrance, the way you shiver as he gently tugs your bottom lip between your lips, and the way you clutch onto his hair as the two of you exchange life through your kisses.

“Just a couple, baby?” he whispers, pecking down the side of your face, “I can give you a lot more than that.”

He tugs your sleeve down as you whine, tilting your head to give him better access to the area. He nips and sucks at your collarbone, biting hard enough to bruise in spots that you’ll probably scold him for later. He wants them to be deep enough, red enough that you won’t even be able to cover them so the whole world will know you’re his, and he knows it’s well worth it with the way you groan as he keeps going.

“I wish could stay like this forever,” you gasp, preening away when he nips behind your earlobe. “I never want to let you go. My boyfriend. Mine. Forever.”

He hums in agreement, pressing a kiss to your neck before he stops. You whimper, angry at him for pausing his ministrations, but as he processes your words, the hazy fog he was in moments prior fades away, and all that is left is the consequences of his actions.

“What’s wrong?” you ask when you realize he’s stopped completely.

Chanhee is shaking from underneath you, glassy-eyed, and his fingers tremble as he removes them from your body.

“Boyfriend,” he dumbly repeats, and you nod before realizing the mistake you made.

“Chanhee, I—”

“Get off me. Please.”

You stare at him incredulously, and when he doesn’t make any move to take back his words, you climb off him and into the seat next to you.

“This is all fake. Why do I keep forgetting that?”

He laughs bitterly, watching as your face morphs into a frown. How could he be so careless, to lose himself in you when this is all clearly just an act?

“Chanhee, I know this was planned, but the way I kissed you was definitely not fake.”

You sound hurt, and if he was in a better headspace, he would be calmer with his words, but the weight of what just happened is sinking down on him hard. Suddenly, he needs to leave, to never see you again and to not spend any more time in this stupid, suffocating van. He opens the door, climbing out before shutting it behind him firmly, breathing in heavily as he staggers away from the vehicle.

“Chanhee,” you cry, running up behind him and grabbing onto his wrist, “you don’t understand!”

“Then help me understand!”

“I like you,” you whisper, and suddenly, his whole world shatters.

“Of course you like me,” he laughs, running a hand over his face. “Do you not realize that you have an insane amount of privilege to be saying that? I can’t even like you in return because my career hinges on hating you! Don’t you get it, Y/N?”

You’re full on sobbing now, observing as he wrenches your hand away from his. Your fingers fall limply to your side and all you can do is watch as he walks away, shaking his head.

“Don’t contact me. I never want to see you again. Fuck you, for real, for playing with my feelings.”

You can only stare as the love of your life walks away, leaving your universe in shambles.

Unfortunately, just because you encountered the worst breakup of your life does not mean the world stops moving.

You’re at another after party, one that you’d been looking forward to for months because it would finally mean you’d get to catch up with some of your old costars. However, after the chaos that had befallen you earlier this week, going to some stupid nightclub was the last thing on your mind.

Really, you’re only here because Vernon is sick and tired of you wallowing in your misery. He thinks that you’ll be getting a change of scenery by being here, but the only thing you’ve been getting is shots filled with the strongest alcohol the bar can offer. Your one goal is to successfully forget about the black-haired man that ruined your life, and your plan is effective until the bartender stops you from getting another round and tells you to get some fresh air.

You grumble as you stumble out of the bar, finding a home on the gray sidewalk in front of it. Your sequined outfit digs into your skin as you sit down, but in your drunken stupor, you can’t find it within yourself to care. You’re lucky enough that this is a nicer venue, because there’s no one around to bother you to find another spot. It’s just you and your thoughts, and you can’t tell if that’s more dangerous or not.

Your first order of business is to pull out your phone, scrolling through your recent contacts. You have half a mind to call Vernon, to curse him out from condemning you to the hell that is this place, but instead your finger hovers over a familiar contact.

You are so going to hate yourself when you wake up.

The line rings, once, twice, thrice, and just as you’re about to cut the call, a voice answers from the other side.

“Y/N, it’s three in the morning. I thought I told you not to contact me,” Chanhee whispers groggily.

“Well too bad! You’re the one that said all that shit to me and left, so how unfair is it that I don’t get my turn?”

The line goes silent before Chanhee scoffs, and you can hear the bedsheets rustle around him as he gets up.

“Are you drunk?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you answer, giggling from how similar this is to when you first met him.

“Where are you right now?”

“Outside a nightclub,” you sing, holding your phone out behind you so he can hear the EDM music from inside a little better.

“Send me your location.”

“Nope! I don’t owe you anything, you piece of shit!”

“Y/N, wait—”

You cut the call, laughing as Chanhee’s name disappears on your screen. He calls again, neverendingly, but you never once pick up, feeling glee from how he’s the one chasing after you now.

You play Candy Crush on your phone until a car screeches beside you, and you scoff as you recognize the familiar red Toyota Solara pulls up beside you. You’ve sobered up by now, but you still hate him just as much.

“Hell no,” you whisper, getting up as Chanhee steps out. You try to run, but the highness of your shoes make it hard for you to run properly, and you stumble as attempt to escape.

“Y/N, look, I’m just going to drop you off at home, okay?”

You stop in your tracks, turning around to see Chanhee behind you with his hands stuffed in his hoodie. You note the eyebags on his face and his chapped lips before speaking to him with a softer tone, grateful that even if he despised you, he didn’t make an attempt to grab onto your wrist and coerce you into something you didn’t want.

“How do I know you won’t kidnap me?” you ask, folding your arms over one another.

“I asked Vernon for your location. If you go missing, he’ll know it was my fault.”

You grumble, staring at him angrily before walking towards his car. He opens the door for you, but you stick your tongue out at him and find a spot in the backseat instead.

The ride is silent, but you feel him watching you through the rearview mirror as he drives. Usually, you don’t mind his silence, but now the stillness is bleak and uncomfortable, just like his presence near you.

“Why did you call me?” he asks, and it takes you a moment to register it because of how intensely you’d been ignoring him.

“I wanted to cuss you out.”

“Okay, so cuss me out then.”

You sigh, rubbing your temple.

“You know what your problem is, Chanhee? You’re self-centered. You think everything is about yourself, even down to our breakup. Who are you to even say things about my privilege when you know damn well how hard I worked to get here? Do you think I’m unaware how my feelings will affect your career? Hell, Chanhee, I literally told you I could help you find another job! I did so much for you to protect you, to support you, all for you to throw it away because you’re scared of the stupid future.”

“Y/N, I—”

“Let me finish. I love you for who you are. Even if we were destined to be opposites, I still found a way to fall in love with you. I was able to love you despite all that you have written about me in the past, so why can’t you love me for the person I am today?”

He pulls up to the front of your apartment, and you clamber out, not wanting to see his face anymore. The rain falls heavily as you step into the lobby, and Chanhee follows suit, shrugging the droplets off his jacket.

“Let me follow you up,” he asks.

You shake your head, but he trails you into the elevator anyway, watching as you press the button for your floor. He opens his mouth to speak, but you’re not in the mood, putting up a palm in front of him.

“Save it. I said what I needed to say. I might be drunk but my words are true. I don’t want to hear anything you have to say in return.”

Despite your words, you let him into your apartment anyway, throwing a towel at him so he can dry off. He pats his hair dry, wiping his glasses against the fabric, and suddenly you’re reminded of how devilishly handsome he is. You shake your thoughts off, chalking it down to good taste in men before wiping down your neck.

The thunder booms outside, startling you as your towel falls to the ground. When you pick it up, Chanhee stares at you, an indiscernible expression on his face.

“Thanks for the towel. I better get going.”

He spins on his heel to leave as the storm crackles, and against your better judgement, you call out for him to stop.

“It’s storming outside. You can’t drive in this weather.”

“What are you suggesting?” he asks, turning back around to meet your gaze.

“You can take my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Chanhee laughs, as if your idea is so atrocious he can’t even fathom it.

“You’re funny. I’ll just drive home, don’t worry.”

“Chanhee, I’m being serious. I don’t want you to die, for god’s sake.”

Maybe he registered the concern in your voice because he exhales, contemplating in his head if this is a good idea or not. The loud thunderclap outside has him reconsidering, and soon enough, he shakes his head in agreement.

“Alright, but you have to sleep on the bed. I’ll take the couch.”

“Chanhee, I’m not fucking arguing with you. You know what? We can both take the bed if it makes you happy. A pillow between us should work.”

Before Chanhee can even respond, you’re walking into the bedroom, flicking on the light. You grab your pajamas from the closet and change in your bathroom, slipping into the sheets quickly once you’re done. Chanhee follows suit, taking the right side of the bed and placing a pillow between you two for added measure.

“Thank you,” he whispers after a few moments of silence. “I’ll be gone in the morning before you know it.”

“No need,” you grumble, shoving your face into the pillows, “just don’t roll over to my side, okay?”

He hums in agreement, and he watches as your eyes flutter shut.

“Good night, Y/N.”

You’re far too asleep to even respond.

You wake up to the sound of your head pounding in your ears. You grumble, shifting around before you open your eyes, expecting to see empty sheets, but instead you see a man with a very familiar face.

You as the events of last night rush back to you, and you hold yourself back from groaning as you recollect your thoughts. You should’ve just let him leave when he wanted to, but you didn’t, and now you have to deal with his beautiful bare face and his deep morning voice as if you haven’t fallen enough for him already.

You don’t register his eyes fluttering awake until he pokes your side. You shake, startled by his actions, and he tries to hold back a smile.

“Good morning. Sorry I overslept.”

“It’s okay. I won’t be nice enough to let you stay for breakfast though.”

“Wait,” he whispers, clutching onto your arm as you attempt to get out of the bed, “can I say something?”

You nod, and his arms falls back on the bed as he sits up, clearing his throat.

“You were right. I was selfish, and the words I said that day were extremely uncalled for. They were useless too, because if I had just expressed my feelings to you, we wouldn’t have needed to have this conversation now.”

You cock your head, confused at what he’s trying to imply. He takes in a deep breath, as if he’s preparing himself to say something.

“I love you. I love you so fucking much that it hurts to breathe when I think of you. I love you so much that I’m willing to quit my career just to be by your side. I was scared then of ending up on the streets like I did in the past, but I was stupid enough to not trust your words when you said you would help me. I didn’t even like that job anyway, so I was an idiot for trying to fight for something I would eventually end up leaving myself.”

“Chanhee, you’re not—”

“No, I am stupid. And selfish. And self-centered. But I am also just Choi Chanhee, the Choi Chanhee who is irrevocably and utterly in love with you, and even though I can imagine a future where I won’t be working for Sangyeon, I cannot imagine a future without you by my side. I know you deserve better, but I’m begging you to just give me one chance to rectify my mistakes. We can take it slow and not rush things like we did in our four weeks. We can go on silly restaurant dates and I’ll practice getting used to the lights at red carpets. I’ll visit you on set every day with flowers and I’ll rent out five billion vans for us to make out in. I’ll do all this and even more because you deserve it, and because I love you. Will you please let me have one chance to make this fake relationship into a real one?”

You’re kissing him before he can even respond, letting him press you against the bed. He kisses you like he’s been starved, inhaling you and memorizing every inch of your presence as if you’ll let go of him again. Like before, you’re not restricted by the millions of voices against you and Chanhee, and as he lets himself go, you follow suit, dragging him down under until you’re writhing against him, begging for more.

“I love you,” he whispers when he kisses down your collarbone, “I love you,” he whispers when your clothes join the ground, “I love you,” he whispers when you shake against his fingers and mouth.

“I love you,” he whispers one last time, cradling you gently as he becomes one with you. “I’ll never let you go. Never again.”

As you lay against him, bare skin to bare skin, you trace the tips of his hair as you smile. You don’t know what the future holds for you two, but there’s one thing you’re certain of as you press another kiss to his mouth.

"I love you. Even if the world caves in, it’ll be you that I lie with. Endlessly, until my last dying breath.”

This time around, you take things slow, not restricted anymore any more by four weeks, four months, not even four years. You have the entirety of your lifetime to spend with him, and you intend on using every single bit of it.

First, however, you let him make it up to you. Just because you bared your soul to him, figuratively and literally, after his apology doesn't mean you've completely forgiven him.

Chanhee doesn't disappoint though, reminding you every single day why he deserved the second chance you gave him. Once upon a time, he called you privileged, and that's exactly what you are now for having such a sweet boyfriend. One that doesn't leave the vase on your countertop empty by gifting you fresh flowers, one that always opens the door for you when he takes you on apology dates, one that sits with you in silence when you want to and one that chatters just as much as you do when you can't shut your mouth.

He visits you on set when he can despite his busy schedule as an assistant director. Surprisingly, you played no part in this, just the source of his determination when he finally decided to give the movie industry a chance again and bagged a job with none other than your close friend Juyeon. He surprises you for late-night drives and lets you have the aux even without you asking for it. He accompanies you to movie premieres despite hating the cameras and if you ever get asked questions that you don't particularly like, he'll glare at the reporters until they shoo away.

And god, the kisses. If the world counted kisses as an apology, Chanhee would be the CEO. Every slot of his lips against yours is like an unwritten confession from him to you, and every purse of his lips is a ballad from the depths of his heart. He kisses you for trivial things, like when you finally get that one specific line right as you're practicing for a script or when he's pecking you against the makeup trailer walls as he wishes you a successful day at work. He kisses you in the earliest of mornings, murmuring sweetness with his tongue against your hot skin, and he kisses you in the depths of the night, trailing his fingers down as you gasp against his mouth and exchange breaths through each swipe of his tongue.

Even after you do end up accepting his apology, he doesn't stop showering you with the affection you deserve. On nights you're feeling particularly insecure, Chanhee beats himself up and vows to never make you feel those emotions again, waking up the next morning to prove exactly why you're worth it. He takes care of you gently, the gentlest lover you've ever seen. He's the personification of a comfortable morning, the desire to stay in bed despite all the things you have going on. You never want to leave, forgetting all reason and staying in his embrace forever.

You're by his side when his first cinema blows up, when his first screenplay wins an award, when he gets his first nomination for directing, and today when he's on stage with an Academy Award in his hand and a smile you'll remember for ages.

You watch the twinkling in his eyes when he thanks his cast and crew, holding onto his assistant director tightly as he expresses his gratitude. What takes your breath away, however, is when he turns to you in the audience and whispers a confession that you'll never forget in your lifetime.

"And lastly, thank you, you know who you are, for being the best I could ever imagine. I will never regret the moment by the pond where you hugged me, the one that changed the trajectory of our lives forever. If anything, you deserve this award more than me. I love you, my Y/N."

You smile as the audience erupts in cheers, but as his assistant director hugs him on stage, his eyes only bore into yours.

"I love you too," you mouth back, watching as he grins when he recognizes your words.

"Forever and always."

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officialaemondtargaryen · 1 year

Text

Home For The Holidays

Summary: Eddie's band is on tour and can't make it home for the holidays.

Characters: Eddie Munson x Reader (can be read as gender neutral)

Word Count: 2.3k

Trigger Warning: Eddie and Dustin are conniving, per my usual works.

Author’s Note: Happy birthday, Sam (@felteppsters). This is the first part of your birthday/Christmas gift.

He said, "I'm not going to be able to make it."

When Eddie left for his first headlining tour, he made a promise to you that he would be home for just five days out of the six months that he would be on the road; a short break the week of Christmas so that the bands and crew were able to spend time with their families.

"They added more dates to the tour," he continued after a few moments of silence. He was calling from a payphone somewhere near Kansas City, and he could sense your disappointment even though he was over five hundred miles away.

You knew that it wasn't his fault. Corroded Coffin gained significant popularity after their last tour opening up for Metallica and the demand to see them was overwhelming. There were four new dates; Kansas City, Minneapolis, Denver, and Salt Lake, before the band got a one-day break for Christmas Day and were to be in Seattle on December 26th.

"Y/N," he sighed. "Say something."

"I know how much this means to you, Eddie." You told him, your voice doing nothing to hide the fact that your heart was in your stomach. "I'm so proud of you."

The line went quiet and you could hear the faint sound of static and Eddie's breathing in your ear. Your burning eyes fluttered shut at the sound, forcing a tear to drop to your cheek. You were proud of him. You at least hoped that he believed that. In the ten years that you had known Eddie and the four years that you had been dating, he had never once disappointed you- and the one time that he had, today, was out of his control.

"When I get ho-" You could hear Gareth's voice in the background yelling for Eddie to hurry up. "Shit, I have to go." He said, there was more yelling. "Shut the hell up! I'm coming! Gareth and Jeff need to call their folks."

"It's okay." You frowned.

"I love you," he said sincerely. "And Y/N? Nothing means more to me than you." The corners of your lips pulled up into a small smile.

"I love you, too!"

The phone line disconnected and you felt empty. All you could do was stare at the little Christmas tree that you had put up and decorated yourself and the presents underneath, all with his name on them. You had argued about whether or not you would put up the tree without him, as it had been a little tradition of yours since you had moved into this house with him three years ago. He wanted you to wait, you wanted him to come home to presents under the tree. You remember him laughing to himself over the phone, could practically picture him shaking his head, knowing that it was pointless to argue about it- you were going to do what you want.

A sigh escaped your lips as you wiped your dampened cheeks. It was a little past noon, and you were still in your pajamas. You had cleaned the house spotless for Eddie's arrival, leaving you nothing to keep your mind busy now that he wasn't going to be here.

You picked up the phone and dialed Robin, but her line immediately went busy. So you dialed Steve, but it should have been obvious to you that his line would also be busy. You dialed Nancy and Jonathan answered only to tell you that she was at work. Your head fell back with a frustrated groan.

"I think everyone forgot that it is my birthday." You muttered to yourself. "Even my own boyfriend."

The moment that you had conceded to spending the day on the couch, wallowing in your misery, in the same pajamas you had been wearing for two days while watching VHS Christmas movies, there was a knock on the front door. You hurried to the door and peered through the glass to see a very familiar head of curly hair standing on your front porch with his hands in his pockets.

"Dustin?" You asked as you hurriedly opened the door. "What are you doing here, wait- how did you get here?"

The younger boy looked at you quizzically before holding up a set of car keys. "I'm eighteen and I can drive."

"Shit," you laughed rubbing your eyes. "I sometimes forget that you're not fourteen anymore."

"So does my mom," he replied and shoved past you, making himself at home in your kitchen before you could even say 'come in'.

"Well, what's up?" You asked. "You know Eddie isn't going to make it home this week, right?"

"I heard", Dustin replied from inside your refrigerator. Your eyes narrowed. "I figured you were going to be super depressed since it's your birthday and all, so here I am!" He said turning to you and holding out his arms. "Damnit, all you have to eat is leftovers?" He moved over to your cabinets. "And cereal?"

"Sorry to disappoint you?"

That was when Dustin turned back to you and really took in your appearance. "You really are depressed, aren't you?"

"No, no." You huffed. "I'm not depressed. It's just early."

"It's almost one!" He objected. "Go change out of your PJ's and we can go get a pizza. My treat." You narrowed your eyes once more, wondering when this boy became an adult who felt like he could tell you what to do. "Well, go!"

"Okay!"

Not wanting to argue with him, you made a beeline to your bedroom and threw together an outfit. You emerged a few moments later and the younger boy was staring at your Christmas tree and shoving a handful of Froot Loops in his mouth.

"There's something missing." He said with his mouth full.

"I was waiting for Eddie to get home to put the star on top since I couldn't reach." You replied with a frown. "Maybe later I can get the step-stool out and you can put it on, Short-Stack."

"Screw you," he sneered. "I don't see anyone else offering to take you out to lunch on your birthday."

"You're absolutely right, kiddo." You laughed. "Let's go."

Dustin was able to keep your mind off Eddie for most of the day. He had taken you to the brand new Surfer Boy Pizza that had just opened up near the new mall in Hawkins before you both met up with Mike and El for a movie. Once Nancy had gotten off from work, she and Jonathan joined the four of you for dinner at Antonio's. She had asked about Steve and Robin, but Dustin made an excuse for the two of them. Truth be told, you had no clue where they were other than what Dustin told you, "they were otherwise engaged, but wished they were able to make it." The whole thing was odd, but you were just happy to not be alone on your birthday.

Jonathan had the idea to check out Christmas lights in Loch Nora as the sun began to set. You stopped at a gas station for some cheap hot chocolate which probably wasn't the best idea after the fact. Once you had driven through the entire neighborhood and the one over, you mentioned making your way home, but Dustin and Mike had other ideas.

"Why don't we all come over and play a game or something?" Dustin mentioned, inviting the entire party over to your house.

"Dustin, it's getting late, I don't think we have time for a D&D campaign tonight." You replied with a yawn.

"Come on, Y/N." Mike urged. "We're having such a great time, don't you want to end it on a high note?"

At this point you realized that something was up, you could not accept the fact that your jerky friends really just didn't want you to spend any part of your birthday alone, despite what they said.

"What the hell, sure!" You replied, throwing your hands up in defeat.

Dustin decided to take the long way home through another neighborhood because El mentioned that she would like to see more Christmas lights. Jonathan and Nancy followed closely behind in their own car as Dustin made his way through not one, not two, but three additional neighborhoods to see the lights.

When he finally pulled up to the curb outside of your house, you were exhausted. Keeping up with a bunch of teenagers took the life right out of you.

"I don't know how much fun I'm going to be," you mentioned as you unlocked the deadbolt. "But you're all welcome to stay for as long as you-"

"SURPRISE!"

The lights flickered on to reveal Robin, Steve, Lucas, Max, Erica, and Will with balloons and party hats and a cake that had way, too many candles on it.

"Before anything else happens," Robin stated. "Please blow out these candles so that they are no longer a fire hazard!"

You were utterly speechless as Steve ushered you over to the cake. "Make a wish!" He said softly as he put his arm around you.

You closed your eyes and made your wish.

And even though you knew that it was impossible, you still wished that Eddie could have been there.

"Happy Birthday!" Max yelled when you opened your eyes.

"How did you guys even get in here?" You said as you wrapped her up in a hug.

"I picked the lock, obviously." She shrugged as you moved to hug Lucas and Erica.

"She did not pick the lock," Steve added. "Because that would be breaking and entering and that's illegal, even if it would have been for a good cause." Max rolled her eyes and went to refill her cup.

"Where have you two been?" You asked Steve and Robin.

"We had to go pick up your gift!" Robin replied, hopping up on your counter and sticking her finger in the cake frosting.

"My gift?" You asked. "You didn't have to get me anything, your company is enough."

"Oh, we know." She replied with a sly smile. "This gift kind of forced our hand."

You looked at Steve for answers but he was looking over your shoulder. Your heart was hammering against your chest as you turned slowly to see Eddie standing in the middle of your living room with a silver bow sitting atop his head.

"How?" You gasped and before he could say anything, you leaped for him, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his middle.

"Hi," was all that he was able to say in between the hundred kisses that you placed upon his lips. "I missed you, too."

"You said that you weren't going to be able to make it!" You exclaimed. "You had a show tonight!"

"We were able to postpone it," he replied. "Another band took our place and we're going to honor the tickets on another date." He took your chin in between his index finger and thumb and made you look at him. "I made a promise to you, and even though I have to be at the airport at 6:00 AM tomorrow, I couldn't miss your birthday."

"I love you so much." You told him.

"I love you, too." He replied as he sealed a kiss to your lips.

One by one, your friends filtered out of your home. You thanked each and every one of them for the best birthday that you could have ever asked for and made plans for them to come over on Christmas Eve for dinner and presents.

"You planned this didn't you?" You asked Dustin as you stood at the front door with him. "You knew the whole time." He only shrugged before winking terribly. You pulled him in for a hug and raked your knuckles over his scalp before letting him go. "See ya later, Shorty."

He stepped out onto the front porch and turned back to give you the middle finger. "Happy birthday, Asshole."

You closed the door behind him and locked the deadbolt, turning to see Eddie standing at the Christmas tree. You came up behind him and wrapped your arms around his middle, your head resting on his back. If you could just stay in this moment forever, and live in this happiness that you felt, you would. You would never let him go if you didn't have to.

"Babe, where's the star?" He asked curiously, his eyebrows furrowed.

"I couldn't reach it," you replied. "And it didn't feel right to finish without you."

He turned around to face you with your arms still wrapped around him. "You are so cute, you know?" He asked as he removed your arms from him and placed a kiss on the top of your head.

Eddie bent down to the box of Christmas decorations still sitting next to the tree and pulled out the star. He stuck it on top of the tree and plugged it into the outlet and suddenly the living room was filled with a beautiful yellow glow.

"Wait a minute," Eddie said, bending back down to the box of decorations. "You didn't want to put this ornament on the tree? But it's my favorite one!"

"Hm?" You turned to him to see Eddie on one knee with a dainty, diamond ring in his hands. "Oh," the breath was taken right out of your lungs. "Eddie-"

"Y/N," He began. "I wasn't planning on doing this until I got home from the tour, but I couldn't wait. When I said that there is nothing more important to me than you, I meant it. Will you spend the rest of your life with me?"

"I was already planning on it." You replied excitedly, meeting his lips with yours.

Eddie slipped the ring over your finger and laced his fingers with yours. "Happy birthday, Y/N. I love you."

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blu-joons · 2 years

Text

When Others Disapprove Of Your Relationship ~ NCT Dream Reaction

Mark:

The quick slam of his laptop caught your eye as you sat down beside Mark, looking across at him with concern. “Don’t worry,” he tried to tell you, but your intrigue got the better of you as you opened it back up.

“Another article,” you immediately whispered as you noticed what Mark had been reading, with your name in the headline of it once again.

He was agitated beside you as Mark watched you read through it, “I mean it’s not as bad as the one from the other day, so that’s a bonus that we can try and focus on.”

“You don’t need to try and make me feel better,” you assured Mark, “I know everyone disliking me is a part of dating you.”

“It shouldn’t have to be like this though.”

“These things happen,” you weakly smiled, “at least you’re still here with me Mark.”

His head nodded straight away as his arm moved around your shoulders, “I would never leave you to go through any of this alone. We’ll convince them all that they’re wrong Y/N, one day at a time we’ll get there.”

“I really wish that I had your confidence Mark.”

Renjun:

The frustrated groan that came from Renjun as he arrived home immediately had you worried. “How dare they call me into a meeting tomorrow so suddenly,” he vented, “and I know exactly what it’ll be about too.”

“Me? Right?” You quizzed, knowing how much of a burden you had become with Renjun’s managers, “they want to talk to you about us, don’t they?”

A weak smile formed on Renjun’s face as you quickly berated yourself. “I’m sure that it’ll be nothing, they’ll probably just want to find out how we’re getting on together.”

“I’m not stupid,” you reminded Renjun, “they’ll probably want to try and convince you to break up with me again, won’t they?”

“Let’s not go making assumptions about it.”

“I know,” you adamantly told Renjun, “this is how they’ve been all along with us.”

He was desperate to protect you, but even Renjun felt as if he was beginning to struggle to find the words. “Try not to worry, no one knows what they’re thinking until I go in and speak to them tomorrow.”

“I reckon that I can have a pretty good guess.”

Jeno:

You looked to Jeno cluelessly as he finished reading through the comments that you had found and decided to show him. “There are some good ones around here too, right?” Jeno asked, only for your shoulders to shrug.

“It feels as if every single one of your fans want for me to disappear,” you told Jeno in a hushed voice, “some of them seem to be willing to do anything.”

Jeno placed your phone down, inviting you to take a seat beside him. “It’s not every single one, it’s just a handful who don’t know how hurtful all of these comments can be.”

“I feel like I just want to give up,” you sighed, resting your head against Jeno’s shoulder, “they’re never going to like me, are they?”

“No way, I’m never letting you give up Y/N.”

“What else is there to do?” You asked Jeno, “do we just let all of this carry on?”

Jeno paused for a moment before clearing his throat. “It’s never right, but we’ve got to try our best to ignore them. No matter how much they argue their views, their views of you, and us, will never match my own.”

“At least I know I’ve got you who likes me.”

Haechan:

A sigh of relief came from you as you walked out into the open air, Donghyuck following just behind you. “Y/N, slow down,” Donghyuck called out to you, but you were in too much of a hurry to be by yourself.

“It’s so hostile in there, and it’s all my fault,” you mumbled to Donghyuck, pointing back to where you’d come from where the group still were.

Donghyuck’s head shook as he tried his best to reassure you, “the boys like you Y/N, I promise you that you’re worrying about nothing, it’s natural to overthink these things.”

“I’m being honest,” you corrected Donghyuck, coming face to face with him, “they’re your best friends, they should matter to you.”

“They do, but you matter to me as well Y/N.”

“What do we do?” You asked Donghyuck, “how do we ever figure all of this out?”

Donghyuck gave himself a moment to compose himself before meeting your eyes again. “I can’t tell you that I have all of the answers right now Y/N, but I promise between all of us everything will be sorted out.”

“I really hope that you’re right Donghyuck.”

Jaemin:

The sigh that came from Jaemin immediately had you worried as he took a seat down beside you. “I can’t believe them,” he muttered underneath his breath, “they’re worried about what us dating means for the company.”

“They want us to break up?” You asked Jaemin in panic, knowing his managers had been far from supportive of the two of you together.

Jaemin’s head shook as he reached across and rested his hand against the top of your leg. “I don’t know what they want, but if that’s what it is, then they’re not getting it.”

“What have I done for them to be so disapproving of me?” You honestly asked Jaemin, unable to make any sense of it yourself.

“You’ve not done anything wrong, this is all on them.”

“It doesn’t feel that way,” you confessed, “I just feel as if I’m trouble around here.”

Jaemin’s grip against the top of your leg quickly tightened as you spoke. “You are far from trouble for me Y/N. I’ll keep fighting against anything that they say or do, there’s no way they are going to separate us.”

“That’s just what I needed to hear right now.”

Chenle:

A shiver ran down your spine as you walked into the dressing room, immediately feeling uncomfortable. “Are you alright?” Chenle asked you, quickly picking up on how unsettled you appeared to be.

“I can feel everyone staring at me,” you admitted, fearful to meet the eyes of any of the backing dancers that were stood around you.

Chenle snaked his arm around you as you spoke, realising what was going on too. “Don’t worry,” he whispered to you, “they’ve clearly got no better way to spend their time.”

“I feel like everyone hates me,” you muttered back to Chenle, feeling your heart race. “They just want me to go, nobody wants me here.”

“That’s not true, I definitely want you to be here Y/N.”

“That’s just you,” you reminded him, “you aren’t the only person in here Chenle.”

His head nodded in agreement with you, “I’m the only person in here that you should listen to though. I know it’s easy to feel like everyone hates you, but I don’t, and I’m the one that matters in this room.”

“I’ll just try and ignore everyone else in this room.”

Jisung:

Your body tensed up as soon as you walked alongside Jisung, with your name being shouted behind plenty of cameras. “Stay with me,” Jisung whispered into your ear as he felt your body tensing up next to him.

“Can you hear what they’re saying?” You asked Jisung, knowing that it was far from just your name that they were calling out to you.

A slight nod of the head followed from Jisung, dejected by what he heard. “Just try your best to ignore them, the opinions of paps don’t matter to any idols anyway.”

“It’s not just their opinions though,” you mumbled, “they voice the opinions of most of your fans, their commentators, too don’t they?”

“Not this time, all of these people are irrelevant Y/N.”

“Maybe,” you mumbled, “but who can really argue with what they have to say?”

The grip that Jisung had around you tightened as he pulled you closer into his side. “I can argue with what they, and everyone else, has to say because I don’t want to listen to it. No one has an opinion on us, apart from us.”

“You’re right, I just need to try and block it out like you.”

---

Masterlist

319 notes · View notes

grungularity · 10 days

Text

Finally got around to watching Nimona the other day after having read the original year's ago, and here are my thoughts on the movie:

-Great visual design. I love how they combined the fairytale fantasy aesthetic with the advanced technology to make the devices (computers, phones, flying carriages) look both fantastical and high-tech at the same time.

-another point for visual design, I adore how the "heroes slaying monsters" motif was codified into absolutely everything- the architecture, the environment, you name it. Really hammered home the feeling that this society is obsessed with and built on the idea of fighting the Horrors Beyond The Wall(tm)

-when they were talking about commoners becoming heroes of the realm my immediate thought was that headline of "US military allows trans soldiers to serve openly."

-the symbolism of Nimona's chaos beast form having an exposed opening to her heart which looks suspiciously like the wound that gets slashed in her side early in that sequence reflecting her emotional/mental state at the time.

-Ballister being reluctant to leak the director's confession because he wants to protect the institute since even though he's largely turned against it the ideals it claimed to uphold were still the things that defined his life up until a few days ago. Good bit of realistic character writing- it can take a good while and a whole lot of stuff for even the best people to change their views sometimes.

-shar :)

#the beast speaks #nimona

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anxious-witch · 8 months

Note

NaceKris prompt since you like angst and hurt and comfort: Kris is losing his shit over being compared to his dad again and feeling like he's not good enough, and goes to Nace to vent (I can't wait to read this one this is also very much for my own pleasure)

Sorry this took so long, this drabble got entirely too long. I hope you like it!

That said before reading. I wasn't actively trying to write Kris as autistic, but I might have slipped up. The meltdown he has is definitely...indicatory of that so just heads up for that. In case it may trigger someone, maybe skip this one

Kris stared at the headline of a portal on his phone. He shouldn't click on it. He really, really shouldn't.

Is Gušti's son on a way to surpass his father's fame with his band?

It was a click-bait. Kris knew it was a click-bite. And he knew his day was already shitty so he though: Oh, why the fuck not at this point? He clicked on the article. The article went in depth about Miha Guštin's career, and compared it to Kris'. And in comparison, Kris did not look particularly great.

And then the article ended with saying that a more appropriate comparison would be perhaps between Gušti and Bojan.

Kris closed the article. He put his phone on the table, away from him, but the words haunted him. How could he ever compare?

His whole life he was always walking either in his father's shadow or Bojan's. And he felt like a wilted flower, tired of forever trying to get to the sun.

No. He didn't think that. Being in the center of attention could be even worse. He saw the toll it took on Bojan. How his father still couldn't go anywhere in public without being recognized or photographed.

He just felt so...useless. Plain, in comparison. Bojan used to joke when they were younger that every good main character needs a few interesting side characters. That's exacrly what Kris was. A side character.

There is also a question of if Gušti's son would have ended up on the musical scene at all without the influence of his father.

His breath came in short gasps. Kris closed his mouth and forced hinself to try and breathe through his nose. Breathe in for four seconds, gold for seven, exhale for eight. And again.

He grabbed his phone and dialed a number he wanted before he could think about it.

"Hi, Kris," Nace's deep voice greeted him from the other side.

"Can I come over?"

Nace paused, no doubt hearing his voice wavering. There was sizzling in the background and Kris realized that Nace was probably in the middle of making lunch.

He truly knew how to pick the time for a mental breakdown.

"Of course. But are you...okay? Do you want me to come to you?"

"No, no. It's fine. I'll...we can talk when I get there."

Kris could practically see Nace furrowing his brows. Worrying if Kris was truly well enough to walk to his place, like they didn't live ten minutes away from one another.

"It's fine, really. See you in a few."

He ended the call before Nace coukd say anything else. Even just hearing his voice calmed him down a bit.

The walk to Nace's apartment wasn't long, but to Kris' spiralling thoughts, it felt like ages. When he finally reached it and rang the doorbell, he felt overwhelming relief.

Loud barking came from the other side of the door. Kris heard Nace cursing as he tried to get around Ollie and unlock the door.

Kris did his best to put on a smile as the doors opened.

"Get in quickly, before he gets out," Nace said urgently.

Kris stepped through the door, shutting it behind him. Ollie immediately began jumping at him and demanding attention. He crouched down to pet him and let him lick his hands. He grit his teeth and counted to ten to not flinch from it.

"Right. Ollie, that's enough, let him breathe."

"It's okay. Really."

He was still crouching down, so he had to look up. Of course, that was the moment he noticed Nace was wearing a black tank top.

The bassist didn't wear sleeveless shirts often, but God we he did...fuck. Kris had to concentrate.

"I'm okay, I think. It was. I read an article I shouldn't have and I just..."

...wanted to see you. He swallowed. Thankfully, Nace seemed to understand. He offered Kris a hand to pull him up.

"Let's go to the living room first."

Saliva from Ollie licking his hands suddenly became very uncomfortable. Almost burning. And Nace was probably going to eat.

"I'll just go wash my hands first," Kris said, getting up without taking Nace's hand.

Ollie whined sadly at the lack of attention and Nace gave him a worried look right before Kris dashed to the bathroom.

He took a few deep breaths, avoiding looking at himself in the mirror. Then he thoroughly washed his hands with soap. He stopped when the skin started getting red. He didn't want Nace asking questions about that.

He found Nace setting up the table in the dinning room. He put down two plates. And on the left side, where Kris prefered to sit, there was a fork, a spoon and a knife he liked. His chest felt warm. He never explicitly told Nace this, but he noticed anyway.

"I wasn't sure if you ate already but I figured it won't hurt to put another plate for you."

"Thank you," Kris said quietly.

He sat down and only then did he dare to sneak a look at Nace, who sat at the opposite side of the table. Maybe it was the light. Or the fact that Kris felt shaky and Nace was always so solid and steady. Like Kris could lean on him and he would not crack under the weight Kris was carrying.

Whatever it was, it made tears suddenly run down his cheeks. Like the pressure caught up with him all at once and was now crushing his chest.

There was a sound of chair scrapping against the floor, and it seemed so loud at the moment Kris had to cover his ears. He was sobbing, he realized, almost distantly.

It felt like he was shifting in an out of his body. One moment he was so overwhelmed with all the sensations and in the other he felt completely numb. He knew he was crying but felt none of it.

Then the lights turned off and the radio that played in the background was silenced, too. All he could hear for the moment were his own sobs and heavy breathing.

"Kris?"

Nace's voice was soft and quiet. It didn't feel like someone scratching their nails over his ears. Kris slowly lowered his hands from his ears.

"Can I touch you?"

Kris considered it. He didn't think he could stand that yet, though. He shook his head.

"Okay. How about we go through the exercise we do with Bojan?"

Kris almost snapped that he wasn't having a panic attack. That this was different. That everything was just too much. But that would use up too much air. And Nace looked so worried. He nodded.

"Okay. Only focus on five things you can see, okay? You don't have to tell me which ones out loud, just count them."

He didn't have the strenght to roll his eyes. Instead, he counted. One, Nace. Two, red tablecoth with a horrendous Christmas pattern. Why did it have Christmas pattern? It was October.

"Don't get distracted," Nace gently reprimanded.

Right. Counting.

Three, the table. Four, the plate. Fifth...the fork.

He looked back at Nace and nodded once, indicating he was done.

"Alright. Four things you can touch?"

One, the hoodie he was wearing. Two, his jeans. Three, the chair he was sitting on. Four...

He reached out and carefully grasped Nace's shoulder. Well, a place between his shoulder and neck, so his hand was touching his shirt. It felt more bearable when it was him touching Nace and there was a layer if soft cotton between their skin.

"Three things you can hear."

Nace's voice. Faint buzzing of the refrigerator. Their heavy breathing.

He nodded again.

"Two things you can smell?"

Tomato soup on the table, steaming from the pot. Faint traces of Nace's cologone.

Another nod.

"One thing you can taste?"

Nothing. Just water he drank earlier. He supposed that counted, though. He nodded.

"Okay. Do you feel a bit better?"

He considered it. He felt exhausted but certainly less overwhelmed. And his hand on Nace's shoulder wasn't painful sensation, but just a neutral one. That was a good sign.

"Yes."

"Alright. Do you want to eat, or would you prefer to lie down on the couch for a bit?"

"Lie down."

This time, when Nace offered him his hand, Kris took it. It was warm and slight callused. Steady.

He took him to the living room and covered him with a blanket when Kris laid down. Turned off the lights.

"I will just go get my plate."

So that was how Kris ended up with his eyes closed, listening to Nace eating his soup. And really, it should have been an annoying sound but somehow...it wasn't.

Then Nace put his plate on the coffee table with a dull clank. Kris cracked his eyes open, just to see Nace looking at him.

"Can I get you water? Or juice? Or...something?"

"Water would be nice."

When Nace came back with a glass, he held it to Kris' lips instead of letting him take it. His cheeks warmed. He drank and tried not to think about how suggestive this looked like.

Nace quietly set the glass aside after he was done and sat back down. Silence streched.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Kris huffed. He supposed he should. He did just barge into Nace's apartment and had a meltdown. Potentially scarred his dog, since Ollie was nowhere to be found.

"I just had a really shitty day. My coffee maching broke, so I had to get a coffee to go from a cafe, which meant I was almost ten minutes late to the practice. And you know how that went, you were there. Jan managed to cut his finger on a string badly and there was blood and I couldn't find my first aid kit because Bojan put it in the wrong drawer-"

"Kris. Breathe."

He fidgeted with his sleeve and took few deep breaths. In and out. In and out. He rubbed his hands over his jeans, letting the texture ground him.

"Right. And then I came home and I was scrolling through Instagram and someone mentioned an article that talked about me and my dad. So I looked it up and it went on to essentially explain how I will never measure up to him and they are sort of right because. No I won't, our careers are different anyway, but then I realized how fucking useless-"

He stopped as Nace took his hands in his own. He gently rubbed over his knuckles and suddenly Kris was tongue-tied.

"Sorry. Should have asked before touching you."

"It's okay."

More than okay, now. It was comforting. He didn't always like touch and not from anyone, but he didn't mind it now.

"You are not your dad and you don't have to be. You are your own person, with your own way of doing things."

Kris opened his mouth, but Nace raised his hand to stop him.

"No-don't interrupt me. I know you know that, but you still try so hard to be perfect all the time. Jesus, Kris you sometimes hold yourself to such impossible standard, it pains me to watch."

Kris simply stared at him. No one ever put it that way. It was always just "You don't have to me like your dad". But never "You don't have to be perfect at all, even in a way specific to you".

"Oh."

Nace's expression softened. He gently pulled him into a hug, Kris' face perfectly fitting between his shiulder and neck. Few tears escaped him as Nace stroked his hair.

"You are good enough as you are. You don't have to try. And you don't have to compete all the time with Bojan, either. Life isn't a competition."

Kris chuckled, despite the tears.

"Kind of feels like it for me."

"Because you never let yourself relax and just...be yourself. Breathe. Relax. I promise you are safe."

Nace's words slowly sank in and to his surprise, he felt like he could finally relax. Let all the bitterness slip away for a moment.

He pulled Nace closer, so they somehow both ended up lying on the couch that was certainly not made for teo men their size. Still, they managed.

"Can you help me with that?"

"With what? Being yourself?"

Kris rolled his eyes and slightly pulled back so he could look at Nace. He reached his hand out and cupped his face. Stroked his thumb over his cheek. Finally allowing himself to do it.

Nace's breath hitched, but he didn't pull away. His eyes carefully considered him.

"No. To relax."

"I don't think your definition of relaxing is a good idea right now."

Kris huffed. Maybe it was the bone deep exhaustion that started to settle in, or the fact that he figured that surely, this day can't get much worse. Whatever it was, it made him lean in, pressing a quick kiss to Nace's lips.

Nace didn't kiss him back.

"I'm sorry-"

"I am not rejecting you. I just don't think this is a good idea while you are this upset."

That was...infuriatingly reasonable. Still, Kris felt embarrassed and slightly disappointed. It felt like a rejection.

Nace sighed.

"Kris. I promise we can talk about this later. For now...how about you get some rest? You look tired."

Kris bit his lip. He was tired. But he was also very comfortable with Nace next to him. He snuggled back into his neck.

"Only if you stay."

Nace kissed the side of his head.

"Always."

Not everything was okay, and however his talk with Nace later went, not everything will magically get solved. But maybe for now...Kris could relax. Just for a bit.

With that as his last thought, he drifted off into a dreamless sleep. Safe and sound.

#nacekris #my writing #joker out fanfic #kris guštin #nace jordan #joker out

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rosewaterandivy · 11 months

Text

psychopomp

Summary: psychopomp - a conductor of souls to the afterworld.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader, if you squint (it's really more of a study in grief/writing exercise)

WC: 972

Warnings/Themes: violence, general sad times, grief, etc.

A/N: Happy Friday! This has been rattling around my brain for a minute. Maybe it's something, maybe it's nothing. Regardless, have at it.

Please do not interact if you aren't 18+.

Nota bene: Reblogging, commenting, and liking my work is always appreciated; reposting, however, is not.

Enjoy! 💜

series masterlist | playlist | currently spinning:

He makes sure Robin gets out, and the kids too.

But not him.

Beaten black and blue, his luck could only go so far.

Months go by, and Dustin never stops listening. Turning the dial as if it’s a clock to be wound, running through the frequencies desperate for a sign.

It never comes.

Yet hope remains eternal.

Cold. Damp.

Belly to the concrete on the roof as the mark and his wife walk the streets of Stockholm.

Crackling and then, “инициировать цель.”

Eye to the scope, trained on the man’s back. A pulse of the trigger, a bloom of blood as he falls to the ground.

Another pull to the trigger, his wife stumbles.

“цель завершена.”

The headlines the next day will read: Prime Minister of Sweden, Olof Palme, Assassinated & Wife Injured. Suspect Still At Large.

Spring bleeds into summer. Hopper’s miraculous return from beyond the grave.

The first thing Robin says to this revenant of a man is,

“Steve?”

A slow shake of his head, pity evident in his gaze. Watches as she wilts like a hot-house flower, eyes glassy with tears.

Robin swallows a sob, nods briefly and turns toe before he can attempt to comfort her.

A year passes, slower than he’d like.

Dustin gets on well enough, Hellfire and Suzie to keep him occupied.

Occasionally, he’ll zone out for a moment or two. Dip back into the recesses of his memory and recall walks along the train tracks, well-intended advice, and pep talks in the car.

A can of Farrah Fawcett hairspray sits on the bathroom counter.

He can’t bring himself to use it.

“Hey Henderson,” Eddie nudges him with an elbow. “We lost you there for a minute, you good?”

Dustin nods, turning his attention back to the campaign. Attempts a reassuring smile.

It doesn't reach his eyes.

Muggy. Urban.

Vaguely familiar.

He sits in the dark as directed, and waits. Time passes, as it always does.

The jangling of keys, the door creaking open.

His hand wrapped around the grip, finger poised on the trigger.

Tick. Thunk.

A strangled gasp as the body falls to the floor.

He rises from the chair, steps easily over the man as he wheezes out shallow breaths.

Aims the pistol to the back of his head, pulls the trigger once more for good measure.

Wipes a bead of blood from his boot and walks out the door to disappear in the night.

Dustin’s running out the door when the phone rings from the kitchen.

He answers it with thinly veiled annoyance, “What.”

“You’ll want to be sitting down for this,” Robin says, voice tremulous.

“Rob, I don’t have time for—-"

“Dustin,” She pleads, emotion thick in her voice. “Please.”

Reluctantly, he sits.

And then his world is turned upside down, yet again.

Robin speaks in a stuttering staccato, because her brain is moving faster than her mouth, rewiring itself with newly gleaned information.

In California, Jonathan swears he saw someone who looked exactly like Steve— his mirror image, truly, but vacant behind the eyes. He attempted a wave, a greeting, but a hand clamped down on Steve’s shoulder like a vice and turned him down a side street.

He tried to follow, but when he got there, it was vacant. As if no one had ever stepped foot in that alley. Jonathan is adamant that he wasn’t high at the time, and was in such a panic that he called Nancy immediately from his house.

Who then, in turn, called Robin. Who was now speaking to Dustin in a frantic tone.

“And you know what’s spooky?” She says, voice falling to a hush, “When he called Steve’s name, he turned or was about to until that guy moved him away.”

Dustin can barely breathe.

It’s his senior year and Steve’s been gone since ‘85. He doesn’t have the time for this, there’s a gravestone in the cemetery declaring that Steven Michael Harrington was a loving son and friend, that’s he’s dearly missed.

Oh god, is he missed.

Dustin should know, the only people who visit it more than him are Robin and Max. Fresh seasonal flowers and the gray marble polished to a high sheen. Momentos and notes from the party, monthly check-ins where they tell him about what’s new in their lives.

“Robin,” Dustin says, brows tilting together. “He’s gone, you know he is.”

She sighs, “I don’t— I don’t want to know that Dustin.”

“I get it, I want to believe he’s out there too.” He shakily stands up from the kitchen table. "But if he was alive, Steve would’ve made his way back to us by now.”

“You’re right.” She eeks out, “I just wanted it to be him,” A wet laugh of disbelief. “I wanted to hope so badly, kid.”

“I know,” Dustin rasps, wicking a tear from his eye. “Me too.”

Hot. Cloying.

Dilapidated houses and ramshackle fences.

The grip on his shoulder remains, an echo to remind him.

Obey.

He stops in front of the house, loads the gun.

The man is paranoid, as he should be.

“You can kill my body, and you can take my life but you can never kill my soul. My soul will live forever!” He shouts into the early morning light.

Mechanically, he raises the gun and squeezes off two rounds into the man’s face.

The headlines the next day read: Huey Newton Killed; Was a Co-Founder Of Black Panthers.

Mission completed.

The metallic flavor of copper in his nose. The sweet humming from a raspy voice. The notches of a spine pressing against his skin.

Hard angles. Soft curves. A ruby red tongue brushing over a protruding bottom lip. Bloodlust sated and smiling at him like he’s finally come home.

But still, a sound haunts him. The man on the crowded street, pale in the sunlight, eyes blown wide.

“Steve!”

Who the hell is Steve?

#steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x you #steve harrington angst #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #crawl til dawn #Spotify

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pommpuriinn · 9 months

Text

TXTPALOOZA

🧷 Joohyung enjoying her time at lollapalooza

Author’s Note: guys I just came back from chicago because I flew to see txt and it was so fun! It was actually my first ever time flying and going to a music festival so I would 100% do it again. I also heard them rehearse from my hotel it was crazy.

It was the day before txt’s actual performance and everyone besides Kai went to the festival grounds ro enjoys some artists sets. Joohyung even got dressed up and did her makeup with a festival feel. Joohyung was ready to enjoy herself with her members. She danced around with Yeonjun and Taehyun during Kendrick Lamar with a Budlight can in her hand. Joohyung qas only there for a bit until she heard Beomgyu and Soobin were going to get food, so she made her way to them. As Joohyung was walking to their location she did get stopped a few times to take pictures with moas which she gladly allowed them to.

Once she stopped the two with one of their staff member she ran up to them. “Wait I want one too.” Joohyung startled the two. “You came out of no where.” Soobin held his chest, as he chuckled. The four walked to watch the 1975 after getting their food and eating it on the way. Beomgyu wrapped his arm around Joohyung’s shoulder, as the two enjoy their time together. Joohyung would occasionally laugh when she see a moa covering them mouth shock at seeing them. Joohyung would even wave at them with a smile on her lips.

Joohyung was giving rockstar girlfriend vibes as she was wrapped around Beomgyu throughout the night. She was also caught smoking a cigarette and basically saying ‘I don’t give a fuck’ as she wink at the phone camera with her cigarette in her mouth. As well as the couple kissing from time to time. They were really living their best life in chicago.

Of course Joohyung ended the night taking photos and just randomly opened an instagram account because she wanted to post her own photos. She was a bit tipsy while making that decision.

PERFORMANCE DAY

makeup | hair | nails

༊*·˚ hearing everyone count down made Joohyung all excited as they were seconds away from running on stage and being the first ever Korean group to headline.

༊*·˚ the second they got on stage and yelled ‘hello’ to chicago all the nervousness they felt washed away with the live band immediately playing ‘I know I love you’

༊*·˚ Joohyung couldn’t wipe the smile off her face as she saw all the excited faces of moas and even non faces. Especially during ‘Dear Sputnik’ everyone jumping around and just having the time of their lives. “Jump! Jump!” Joohyung ran across the stage while jumping almost loosing her grip of her mic.

༊*·˚ “hello lolla I’m Joohyung~” Joohyung blow a kiss making the crowd scream. “We have a couple surprises up our sleeves, right guys?” Joohyung looked at her members. “Joohyung is right, so stay tune!” Kai nodded.

༊*·˚ The group immediately go into their next song ‘Devil by the Window’ Joohyung siren eyes caught everyone’s attention and it was constant screams whenever Joohyung was showed on the big screens.

༊*·˚ Next it was everyone’s favorite b-side ‘Tinnitus’ Joohyung took everyone out when it was her center part during ‘want it, want it’ she started twerking while looking back at the crowd and singing. Joohyung was feeling herself for sure during ‘Tinnitus’.

༊*·˚ Joohyung took her in-ear out to head everyone sing ‘CYSM’ and hearing the band behind them was Joohyung’s favorite thing ever. Joohyung just closed her eyes and took in the moment, as she sang along with the other members lines.

༊*·˚ ‘GBGB’ was one of the songs Joohyung was excited to perform because they got to do the dance break for chicago including Joohyung lighting Beomgyu’s rose which obviously is a crowd favorite. At the end Taehyun and Joohyung both belt out ‘good boy gone bad’ before the end of the song.

༊*·˚ The group quickly ran to the sidelines to change(right one) into their next outfits as they were going to start the unit stages. Joohyung was going to perform a song she’s been hinting since LA and their final Tokyo concerts. As the lights turned off and Joohyung and her dancers got into position the band and lights turned on, and the beginning of ‘Spicy’ started. The crowd erupted into screams while they were hearing an unreleased summer song. Everyone found it to be a very addicting song and want it to be release as soon as possible.

༊*·˚ Joohyung finished her song she ran back to the side lines to change once again to perform ‘Lonely Boy’ with Kai and Yeonjun.

༊*·˚ It was time to cool down especially after ‘TCHFTG’ unit jumping and dancing around. So ‘Anti-Romantic’ started playing and hearing everyone sing along made Joohyung feel warm. She couldn’t stop smiling as she moved with the song.

༊*·˚ Again with ‘Farewell, Neverland’ Joohyung was staring at everyone that was there to see them and moving with the song, as she sang.

༊*·˚ The group wanted to sing ‘Blue Spring’ at lollapalooza because they weren’t able to have a concert at chicago during their US leg of Act: Sweet Mirage. So they wanted to share this moment with chicago moas. Seeing all the bright lights coming from everyone’s phones was a moment that Joohyung will always remember.

༊*·˚ “Let’s turn it up!” Joohyung yelled, as the ‘No rules’ started playing. Hearing the fan chants as they were dancing made Joohyung add even more power to her dance.

༊*·˚. ‘Cat & Dog’ was another surprise for everyone. They especially loved it when Joohyung was acting cute and placing cat finger ears on top of her head and sticking out her tongue. Hearing all the barks cause Joohyung to laugh into her mic while dancing.

༊*·˚ ‘Happy Fools’ was one of Joohyung’s favorite moments as they got to bring Coi Leray out again. Not only did she rap her verse, but txt got to do a remix on ‘Players’ Coi’s as well. Moas screamed when Coi started twerking on Joohyung and she was just laughing. Of course after performing Coi has to get her hugs and she made rounds hugging each member. She especially squeezed Joohyung into the hug before giving Beomgyu his, but as Coi was making her way off stage both Beomgyu and Joohyung caught each other staring a little too hard at Coi. Both turned to look at each other and bursted out laughing and after Joohyung turned to walk to the center, but not before feeling Beomgyu tap her ass. Moas that saw unleashed a demon scream.

༊*·˚ “Make sure to sing along to our next song!” Joohyung quickly got into position with adrenaline high. Moas sang along basically to all of ‘Blue Hour’ including the dance break part which everyone waits for.

༊*·˚ ‘Wishlist’ was another one of those songs the group just jumped around with moas as they sang their hearts out. Joohyung grabbed a water bottle and splashed water at moas and even throwing the empty water bottle to the crowd.

༊*·˚ Joohyung squealed as she heard ‘Loser Lover’ playing, as many could tell she loves this song especially for a music festival like this. “Fucking jump!” Joohyung yelled, as the members and everyone else was jumping having a good time.

༊*·˚ Still no breaks and they went into their next song ‘Magic’. Last minute Joohyjng choose to dance with Soobin during the dance break. Both smile at each other once they finished their part it was very much and endearing moment between the two leaders.

༊*·˚ Finally the members got a little break as they gave their back up dancers time to shine and dance. Joohyung was getting a makeup touch up and drinking water as she closely watched their dance kill the stage.

༊*·˚ It was time to perform ‘Do It Like That’ for the first time. Luckily moas got to hear Joohyung sing more as the Jonas Brothers couldn’t come due to different schedule. Once it was Joohyung turn to dance she couldn’t stop beaming, as everyone was hyping her up.

༊*·˚ Sadly, it was time to say ‘goodbye’ before performing the last song of their set at lollapalooza. “I really want to thank everyone for coming to see us perform fan or non fan. This is a so real moment that I will never forget. Again thank you and I hope to see everyone soon.” Joohyung waved.

༊*·˚ ‘Sugar Rush Ride’ was the last song of the night. It was really a moment to remember especially with the fireworks towards the end of the song while the group was dancing giving their all one last time.

#txt 6th member #txt additional member #kpop added member #txt scenarios #kpop additional member #kpop female addition #txt female member #txt female addition #kpop female oc

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 1 year

Text

Love in a Ghost Town: Part 4--Parry, Game, Match

Eddie Munson’s become content with working his day job. After the crazy stretching of events from 1983-1986, Eddie’s grateful for a little bit of normal in his life.

That is until one day, Valeria Browns shows up in town looking for a quick car fix. And she’s more than he might’ve bargained for on the eve of Valentine’s Day. Valeria is just trying to enjoy her Valentine’s Day weekend after many years of being perpetually single. She has her fun, but it’s never serious. Maybe Eddie can change some of that.

Older!Mechanic!Eddie Munson. 2003 alternative universe. BlackFem! OC.

The Upside Down doesn’t exist in this fic. But strange things do happen to th town of Hawkins, Indianna. Major Character Death that is not canon as a result of the non-Upside Down AU.

Edited photo of Eddie by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

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It’s not hard navigating the town. Valeria manages to follow the main road down, much like Eddie did yesterday, until she hits what looks like a grocery store. It’s an early move, considering she had another four hours or so before it would be pressing, but Valeria doubts there’s much shopping on a downtown scene this early. Getting groceries now would open up her later morning. It’d be a lot of double back. In all honesty, all Valeria has is time to kill. That and gas to put into Eddie’s truck. Perhaps, she can also grab some snacks for herself. There are a few cars in the parking lot, but given the time of day, Valeria’s sure most of the town is working instead or on their way to work and the few cars she is seeing are the folks who work here at the store.

Valeria needs something fast to fix for Eddie’s lunch and maybe something extra to take care of dinner too, as a thank you for all his help. The truck door slams shut and Valeria surveys the parking lot. She keeps thinking about that headline-- her potential headline. Things were okay so far, but still the inclination to always be alert never truly leaves. She can settle it into the back of her brain when someone else is with her. But when Valeria is alone, the last thing she needs is to be slacking on her job of survival. Not a great look to get taken out because I didn’t take a few extra seconds to look around, she notes to herself before carrying herself across the parking lot. In the corner, near the front parking, she notes the brown truck Hawkins Police marked across the sides of it.

The front doors slide open as she gets closer to them and she spies a collection of handheld baskets right near the entrance. Valeria isn’t a chef. She did enough to survive and when she could cut corners with the occasional front with frozen means, she did. But Valeria could cook as necessary. She could make a casserole for dinner. Valeria has the recipes passed down from her grandmother memorized down to the “pinches” and “lil’ bit of”. It was a hard science to follow but after a lot of errors, Valeria got comfortable enough with it.

She wouldn’t have the time for that up against lunch and she’s sure if she spent all her time cooking Edde would be displeased to hear about it. Something quick would be her best alternative. Pasta wouldn’t hurt; it helps that it’s quick too. Her sneakers are fairly quiet over the tile floors. The speakers are soft as they play music overhead. It’s so subtle that it’s just barely noticeable. Her phone chimes from her pocket.

Still alive? the text from Tammie reads.

Valeria laughs and dials her friend’s number instead. It rings once in her ear and then is immediately picked up. “I’m still alive, Tammie,” Valeria laughs.

“Good! I would sure hope so. If you didn’t answer I was about to call the shop and the cops next!”

“Tammie, it’s just 8 in the morning.”

“And I’m going to make sure my best friend is alive. I let Chelsea and Tatianna know about your whereabouts too. They want updates.”

Valeria snorts. “Funny, because I haven’t gotten a call from either one of them.” Chelsea and Tatianna cared--Valeria knows that. But sometimes they get too caught up in their own lives that even if they have every intention to reach out, they rarely do. More than one fight had been had due to it.

“No, none of that Valeria. You can’t call them out. When’s the last time you called either one of them?”

“Tammie, I love you. But I will take Eddie’s truck and drive the two plus hours back to kick your ass lovingly.” It isn’t about the last time Valeria called either one of them. It’s about the fact that it’s always Valeria or Tammie doing the outreach.

“I know it’s not been easy since we graduated. I know they don’t connect like we do. But they’re our friends.”

Forever a peace keeper. Valeria’s not sure if she blames it on the fact that someone had too because she knows for sure it wouldn’t ever be here to keep the peace or if Tammie was always like that. The years have gotten murky in her memory. Valeria shuts her eyes for a moment, head tilted up and away from the boxes of pasta noodles. “I’m alive,” Valeria sighs. The words make her flash back to the thoughts of earlier in the morning, the kisses she and Eddie shared. Valeria snaps her eyes open and grabs the box of penne pasta noodles. “I’m probably more than alive.”

“Oh, oh, juicy details I presume,” Tammie laughs. “Give them. All of them.”

“I’m sort of in public, so not the full details. But,” Valeria turns the corner of the aisle, facing now the backwalls of the refrigerated items-milk, butter, eggs, creams, and cheeses. “He’s got a lot going for him. Even if at times he’s painfully awkward.”

“No, oh no,” Tammie wails over the line. “Do you not tell me you’ve fallen for another goofy white boy?”

“He’s sweet,” Valeria laughs. Her cheeks burn with her own embarrassment as she grabs whipping creams from the display. She’s careful with her collections of eggs and bacon to replace what they’d eaten just that morning.

“Sweet or not, you cannot sleep with every goofy white guy you meet!”

“He’s only the second.”

“Third--Tommy and Lenny.”

“Leonard, god, I forgot about him,” Valeria cackles as she grabs a packet of chicken breast.

“Yeah, at this point, you’ve got a type.”

Valeria notices Steve at the end of the aisle. He’s got a cart he’s pushing, dressed for work but it shocks her to see him now in the light of the store. His nose slopes into a point, high cheekbones keeping his face young. But still a cop. He catches sight of her and gives, which she returns, but she ducks her head fast and starts away from him--towards what looks like is the cereal aisle. “He’s got a type too,” Valeria returns.

“Who? Eddie? How do you know if he has a type?”

“It’s a small town, Tammie,” Valeria whispers. “Things just sort of come up.” Upon reassessing her basket, she realizes she’s running out of space. Miscalculation but do a half portion of chicken for Eddie’s lunch and then the rest she could set aside for a marinade.

“Hello? Earth to Val?” Tammie huffs through the receiver.

“Sorry, sorry, in the grocery store right now and trying to do mental math,” Valeria returns. “What were you saying?”

“What kind of things can come up that in the span of 24 hours, you’re sleeping with him and figuring out his type of women.”

“And men,” Valeria tacks on.

Tammie is silent for a moment. When she finally speaks again, after a 30 second rush of wind crackling through the receiver, her voice echoes, “What?! A threesome?”

Valeria can’t stop her laughter. “No, no, we talked a lot last night. This morning was more scandalous between the two of us.”

“I. Demand. Details,” Tammie hisses.

“Tell me, Tammie, are you currently in a stall in your job’s bathroom?” Valeria asks upon hearing the echo continue around Tammie’s voice.

“Maybe I am,” Tammie hums. “Maybe I’m not.”

“Just know it was a good time,” Valeria sings.

“You bitch!”

Valeria pulls the phone away from her ear at the shriek, laughing as she does. Tammie’s voice floats faintly from the speaker. She shouts words that Valeria can’t fully decipher and at the tail end laughs too. Valeria starts down the aisle like she’s going to be heading toward the checkout. She needs the cajun season, barbecue sauce, paprika, rice, and a vegetable--frozen would do.

“I need you to call me tonight and give me the details. I get off at 5 and we have dinner ready by 6:30. Call me before we eat,” Tammie orders.

“I will. Promise. Love you, Tammie.”

“Love you too, Val.” Punctuation. Valeria flips her phone closed and noticing Steve lingering at the checkout counter. The boy he stands next too is shorter than Steve, curly brown hair falling around his head. It's a shorter crop—the boys hair— but Valeria knows on first glance that his mother must’ve had a time taking care of the hair when he was younger.

Valeria keeps her head down, focusing instead of finding the right aisle for her needs. “Looking a little lost there, can I help?” There’s a lisp to the words but when Valeria looks up the boy with curly hair smiles at her.

Dustin, reads the nametag. “Oh, uh, browsing if I’m honest. Letting the aisle tell me what I need,” Valeria returns.

Dustin laughs. “Fair enough strategy. Wouldn’t listen too long—they might whisper about things that you definitely don’t need like the rewards program we’ve got.”

“A real salesman,” Valeria laughs. “Can you point me in the direction of the spices then?”

“Absolutely,” he scurries around the register. Something Valeria knows for a fact that only in a town like this would it happen. “Aisle 7. One up from grains, two down from canned goods.”

Aisle 6 has the rice then. Valeria wonders if that’s the same aisle that she got the pasta without realizing it. “Steve tells me you’re in town briefly,” Dustin comments, walking beside her now.

“Yeah, just a few days. Is-are you close to Steve?”

Dustin’s giggle is infectious. “What kind of spices are you looking for?”

“Paprika,” Valeria answers automatically.

“Steve--he used to babysit me. Long story.”

“Do you know Eddie?”

Dustin nods, handing over the tiny bottle to Valeria. “Adore that dude!”

“So you-you found him?” It’s a stupid question. Eddie had confessed that already. She’s just really putting the pieces together—names with faces, trying to understand truly how tight knit the group is. It’s a sick game really. Perhaps Valeria’s own way not to get too close because if she did, she’d be intruding. If she can see how well they all do as they are, she can watch but not dance in the fire. Not that Valeria thought she was getting too close anyhow. It would never really work. But it’s easy around Eddie. Maybe it’s really Valeria seeing if anything like a friendship could or should grow. But when Dustin’s face falters, she realizes the limit she pushed it with her own selfishness. “Sorry, sorry. No need to answer that.”

“I did,” Dustin answers. “I’m glad I did. I’m shocked Eddie talked about that.”

Valeria tightens her hold on the bottle. “A lot comes up sometimes.”

Dustin nods. “It was the whole party—me, Steve, Max, Lucas, Mike, Nancy, Robin, and Jonathan.”

“Jonathan who drives the bus. And Max who works at the candy store. You work here. Steve the Sheriff. Robin, the nurse who I haven’t actually properly met yet.”

Dustin nods. “Sounds like you’ve met a lot of us. Lucas and his family opened up a little bakery in town. Lucas is lined up to take over once he finishes classes at community college. It’s two doors down from the candy shop. Mike’s going away for college, following in his sister’s footsteps on that front.”

“Sister?”

“Nancy.”

It takes Valeria a moment but the petite woman with medium length wavy hair in heeled boots and a long winter coat comes back into her vision from yesterday. “Oh, I met her briefly yesterday. She went away for college?”

“Oh, yeah, Emerson. She’s a whiz. Don’t let her tiny stature and dainty clothes fool you. Studied journalism, worked at a magazine up there for a while. Moved back because of her mother. Runs the local paper here now. Real badass in her own way. Haggled the cops down while we got Eddie into the hospital. We broke a lot of traffic laws that day.”

“Seems like Hawkins really couldn’t get rid of y’all,” Valeria chuckles.

“Party sticks together.”

“Dungeons and Dragons?”

Dustin’s eyes lights up, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “You play?”

“I-I listen to a friend tell me about their campaigns. I don't really have the attention span to play. Nor the time.”

“But at least you get it. That’s half the battle. Do you need anything else by the way? I should get back to the registers or my boss will kill me.”

“Grains are one up from here, right?” Valeria asks.

Dustin nods with a thumbs up. “You got it! Shout if you need anything else.”

Valeria can only nod, watching Dustin bounce back to his station. Was it really that the party sticks together or was it that all of their situations had dragged them back to this place? One little town and yet it seemingly had a vice grip. Those that wanted to leave it only got sucked back into it for one reason or another. Valeria grabs the yellow rice she wants, and the rest of her necessities before traveling back up to the registers.

Steve’s long gone but Dustin is happy to chat as he rings Valeria up. He thankfully doesn’t ask what brought her into town--perhaps Steve had already warned him about it, perhaps because the whole town was figuring out the stranger town wasn’t there out of volition but out of necessity. “That shop--the bakery--you said it’s two doors up from the candy shop?” Valeria asks.

Dustin nods. “Best donuts in town.”

She can’t recall if Eddie pointed it out last night or not. He might’ve, but the night is a mixture of her embarrassment and her own arousal, so Valeria’s not sure she wants to try to trust her memory too much anyway. She gathers the bags with a tiny salute to Dustin. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Enjoy Hawkins!” he calls out.

There’s plenty other things I’d rather enjoy, Valeria thinks to herself. But there’s no need for Dustin to know that. Valeria’s quick to get back to Eddie’s trailer. He’d pressed the spare keys to the truck and to his trailer into her palm that morning with just a passing wink. Valeria wasn’t sure if it’s a private joke, or if it was just Eddie being Eddie but it’d put a flutter in her stomach and she pocketed the keys without a word.

The fridge rattles just a little as Valeria closes it. She immediately reaches a hand out to steady it, afraid that something is going to fall. But nothing does. “Can we not add anything else to this bill?” Valeria huffs. That would certainly make the detour in her vacation even more hilarious, but not what she wanted on her tab of things to pay for. Now, she had several hours to kill still.

“Welcome, what can I get you?” A tall lanky boy leans into the glass displays. It’s a fresh line up, that much Valeria knows. She can spot a fresh lineup anywhere. Her heart melts. Her shoulders drop. People like her. And sure, it was only this boy and his family from Dustin’s early comments that Valeria knew about. But at least there was somebody. There would be just a little bit of relief.

“I heard this shop has the best donuts in town.”

He grins, bright and wide. “That we do. Glazed, filled, Boston cream, bear claws, we got it all.”

“Dozen glazed donuts, if you got ‘em,” Valeria questions, pausing at the glass display. She eyes a few other treats--it looks like potentially apple crumble, but she’s not sure as her eyes take in all the treats available.

“Anything else?”

Valeria looks up and shakes her head. “I think I should be careful with treats,” she laughs. Lucas. She reads the nametag and then looks back to his face. He’s still grinning, but nods and turns to get gloves on.

“Can’t go wrong with a treat every now and then. So are we positive just about a dozen?”

Valeria laughs. “Sweetheart, I’m sure. Dustin recommended this place.”

“You’ve met Dustin?” His voice kicks up, the shock clearly painting his voice. “And he recommended this place?”

Valeria nods, but she understands the raising of Lucas’ brows. Did Dustin recommend the shop for the donuts or something else? his brow asks. Valeria shrugs in response before adding, “I think he might have a sweet tooth though, so I’ll be able to see here shortly if it’s worth the hype.”

Lucas laughs, shock melting away. He nods, Dustin wouldn’t get it. But maybe there were other powers at be. Valeria walks alongside the glass displays as Lucas carries the box over to the register. He pauses to grab a single box, plastic and see through. Valeria watches as he returns back to the big display, grabs another desert and then comes back. It looks like the apple crumble donut she was eyeing earlier. “11.43 for the dozen.”

“And the other one?”

Lucas shrugs, looking directly at Valeria. “I don’t see anything other than the dozen.”

Valeria brings out the few pills--a ten and a five. Lucas starts to count out the change and when he hands it over, she drops the bills into the tip jar. “Pay in advance because if these are good, I’ll be back before I leave.”

“Hope to see you again.”

In Eddie’s truck, Valeria is quick to tap out over the keys, the buttons clicking with the press and the tap of her nails. Found some kinfolk. Just one family so far, but it’s something.

We’ll take it, Tammie replies.

The shop today is livelier than anticipated. For a sleepy town like Hawkins, it shocks Valeria that she winds up parking off on the side lot. The front is full--the garage doors are up. Valeria grabs the metal lunch pail--she hadn’t missed the name Wayne etched into the front of it. Eddie didn’t have much else to use in the way of carrying the pasta, chips, and oranges. He had a bag that looked just barely touched but still fresh so Valeria tossed two in there. But Eddie’s selection of lunch carrying items were limited--not even spare plastic bag filled with other plastic bags tucked into a cabinet as a last resort effort. So Valeria took what was available, packed up the tupperware, canister with water, and took herself back down. Of course, she stopped at the gas station and grabbed a soda too, remembering the Mountain Dew Eddie sucked down during their first meeting, alongside the box of donuts.

“Need a hand?”

Valeria turns the voice, noticing the man from earlier wiping his hand on a rag. “I think,” Valeria starts and then notices the between the pail hooked around her fingers and the balancing she’s doing with the donuts and Eddie’s soda, she may not have enough hands. “I think maybe.”

He’s timid as he approaches. “I’m Gareth,” he introduces, taking the box of donuts from her hold.

“Valeria.”

“Nice to meet you properly.” He nods his head over his shoulder into the garage and Valeria gets the doors locked before follow.

“Thank you for the help, Gareth. The donuts are for y’all--everyone in the shop, folks you want donuts really I guess.”

“Of course,” he smiles. He leads them into the front, sliding the box onto the desk. “And thanks, for thinking of us. I’ll be sure to keep the guys from going into the box grubby hands first.”

“Much appreciated,” Valeria laughs. Sitting are a couple other people, flipping through magazines, but clearly being serviced. Eddie sits at the desk, phone pressed to his ear, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. She’s careful as she places a hand on his shoulder to alert him of her presence. It still makes Eddie jerk up, but he smiles when he sees it’s Valeria. She slips the metal box and soda onto the desk gently.

Eddie presses the phone to his shoulder. “Thanks for this.”

“Of course. Make sure you actually get a donut too. I think I spotted some of the guys plotting the poor treats demise.”

He snorts. “Count me a part of the list. Looks like you visited the Sinclairs for them.”

Valeria nods, noticing now she’s kept a steady slip of her hand over his shoulders. “Ran into Dustin at the grocery store who recommended I give them a visit.”

“Before you know it, you’ll be a Hawkins townie.”

“No, do not put that juju on me. Absolutely not.” Their shared laughter only carries for another moment and then Valeria nods back towards the door. “I should probably get going. Don’t mean to make that other person wait.”

“Oh, no, I’m the one on hold and have been for the last ten minutes. I’m starting to think I’m being suckered.”

“What’s going on?”

“Vendor I get parts from recommended a new place to get our cleaning stuff because I was complaining about the prices rising. But this order was supposed to be in last week. I’ve checked with the post office, I have the track number, and it’s still saying the post office hasn’t received the package. At this point, I’m better off just going into the city and getting it than having them bullshit me about sending out a replacement. I’m now on hold so they can speak with their supervisor to see what can be done.”

Valeria doesn’t get much of a chance to respond before Eddie excuses himself, mouthing sorry, He speaks directly into the receiver, a tilt in his town giving away his slight annoyance, “Hey, yeah, I’m still here.” It says everything he doesn’t: Yes, I’m still on hold. Yes, I won’t be going anywhere until it’s resolved.

Valeria’s been on both sides of the coin herself--has known the hassle of someone else making the mistake but Valeria being the face or voice that bears the consequence as well as just wanting to get a resolution that doesn’t make her feel like she’s going insane.

“If this replacement package doesn’t come, can I cancel this order then and just get the money back?”

There’s a pause. Eddie reclines into the chair, face turned up to the ceiling. “Yeah, just cancel it now then.” A longer pause. “Uh huh, yeah, thank you.” Pause. “7-10 business days depending on the bank, yeah, I got it.”

Valeria scoots the metal lunch pail closer to Eddie. “It’s not much, but maybe it’s better than that call.”

Eddie snorts. “I think anything would be better, that’s for certain.”

She watches the lingering touch, the slow stroke of Eddie’s thumb over Wayne’s name. “I couldn’t find anything else,” she whispers.

Eddie shakes his head. “I tossed mine years ago. It’s probably why I’ve relied on gas station lunches so much.” His words are tight in his throat, soft at the fall from his lips. But his movements continue.

The tension is palpable and Valeria wonders if she’s pushing a wound too far. Her words catch, holding on the sides of her throat like they don’t want her to speak. Like the words somehow know better than her that she can’t speak or something will be ruined. The latch clicks, metal tapping against metal. It only takes a quick push with his thumbs and then the lid falls open, tapping against the back of half of the box.

Eddie’s inhale is deep. “Pasta?” he questions. “Would’ve killed for a PB&J.”

“Is that what Wayne used to eat?”

Eddie nods. “Every single day at lunch. Never wanted anything else.”

“I’ll remember that for tomorrow,” Valeria offers.

“Two oranges?” Eddie questions, holding them both up. “Are you telling me something?”

Valeria snickers. “A balanced diet. Protein. Carbs. Fruit.”

“How do the chips fit into a balanced diet?”

“Fats. Need a little bit of it,” she returns, pinching at Eddie’s side over his coveralls.

Eddie laughs, trapping her hand into his body with his elbow. Valeria’s laughing and tugging gently to free her hand. Eddie’s persistent though, turning now from the chair and moving her hand from his side into his. “That’s what the donuts were supposed to be for.”

Valeria shakes her head. “That’s just me being sweet on you.” It’s not an entire lie, but it’s not entirely the truth either. It’s a nice gesture for sure. But Valeria had wanted to explore more of the town, see how much the town was a sleepy little town not able to keep up with the times and how much of it still held something of a not so distant past.

So far, all Valeria had down was a town that was trapped in a perpetual cycle. Raising a lot of children who wanted nothing more than to break away and then never being able to full get away because of something--parents, personal fears. Hawkins had claws and they ran deep. Quite possibly it wasn’t worth making such assumptions only based on a handful of stories--all second hand to her, and sometimes third hand.

“Have you eaten?”

Valeria nods at Eddie’s question, giving his hand a squeeze. “Yeah, I did.”

“Edmund Munson Junior!” A brassy voice bellows into the air of the otherwise relatively quiet shop.

“You’re a junior?” Valeria asks, brow raising in the question.

“Technically,” Eddie returns and then pushes out of the seat and walks around Valeria. Not without a soft smile and another squeeze of her hand. “Yes, Buckley?”

Valeria takes in the woman--about Eddie’s height if she had to gauge--with chin length wavy brown hair. Her smile is bright, voice raspy like someone who used to smoke or used to scream much too much as a kid. The woman levels a finger in Eddie’s direction. “I’m here on account of a candy pick up.”

“Buckley, I told you I was out of the game.”

She laughs, closing the gap between them, thumping his nose gently. “I’m one of your most loyal customers. When was I supposed to get this news?”

Their hug is tight, but brief. Valeria ducks her head watching them for the moment and tries to place where she’s heard the name before. “I actually got sidetracked this morning. Your candy is at home. You know I would never leave you high and dry.”

“Dingus. What got you so distracted this morning that you forgot the most important day of the week? Hmm?”

The woman--Buckley-- finally seems to take full sight of Valeria. She smiles again, though there is something hesitating in the gaze. Valeria can’t tell the gaze is assessing out of fear or of its an assessment out of curiosity. Eddie groans and it’s enough noise to make Valeria bring her gaze to him. “Not again, Robs,” he laughs. “Please not again!”

Robs? Robin! It clicks, Valeria smiles back at Robin. It makes sense the blue scrubs she’s dawned in. But Robin’s eyes are widening, body physically recoiling from Eddie with the action. “You didn’t! No! Can I have nothing ?”

Valeria can only watch as they laugh.

“You’re-why must we be so alike?” Eddie huffs, shoving her shoulder lightly.

Robin scrubs her palms over her eyes. “I’m bleaching my eyes officially. I’m going to retire from nursing and go somewhere tropical and I swear to god, I’m going to forget about you Eddie. Why are you in my head?”

“You’re supposed to be Steve’s soulmate, not mine!”

“Steve’s like a lost cat and I’m like a lost puppy and we just sort of adopted each other you know. Street rats scraping it by in the town that’s trying to eat us alive. We,” Robin starts, motioning between her and Eddie, “are like sharing--literally sharing--radio frequencies and that get crossed and somehow we’re a soul split into two bodies. We’re supposed to be oil and water mortal enemies given my allegiance to dear ol’ Steven, but somehow when I’m supposed to be holding a blade to your neck I’m just offering you a beer. You disgust me sometimes, Eddie, with how inside my cranium you are.”

Robin’s rant sends her pacing, the squeak of her sneakers denoting when she’s taken the sharp turn away from Eddie or towards him. Valeria finds herself laughing, enraptured in Robin’s frustration. She has a suspicion what might be going on, but she’s much more amused with Robin’s clear distress than anything else. Valeria pops open the box, noticing two donuts have gone missing so far. She takes a sheet from the roll of paper towel that’s been deposited next to the box in all her distraction with Eddie and plucks up a glazed donut using the paper towel to keep things as sanitary as possible.

“Like some sugar to go with your panic attack?” Valeria offers, holding out the donut to Robin. Valeria smiles--genuine, but she can’t help a little drip of seduction behind it too. Robin seems easily flustered and it’s a delight to watch her cheeks go rosy.

Robin’s sentence chokes to a close as she stares Valeria down. She nods--it’s shy and almost imperceptible. Her eyes are caught wide in surprise, lips still parted with syllables that were almost uttered. There’s never been a more perfect definition for the word dumbfounded than Robin’s face at the sound of Valeria’s voice. Valeria grins, passing it over to her. “T-thanks,” she returns.

“No problem. I could, if it’s okay, drop the candy off to you. I’m sort of borrowing Eddie’s truck while my car gets fixed.”

“I-I work at the hospital,” Robin returns.

Valeria nods. Definitely a lot more fun to ruffle Robin’s feathers. But also if the candy is meant for her, Valeria’s not going to let Eddie’s oversight impede Robin. “When does your shift start?”

“At 2. Which-” Valeria sees it, the gears starting to turn again for Robin. She’s returning to herself little by little. “It’s in like 25 minutes. And it’s only 5 minutes to the hospital from here. But would be longer to go to Eddie’s and then get back. So, if-if it’s okay with you, yeah, yeah you can drop it off to me. At the hospital. Where-where I work.”

“I can do that. What candy is yours?”

Robin starts to form words, but her mouth just gapes for a moment. Eddie pushes the donut up in her hand gently to her mouth. “Everything but the peach rings. They should be still on the coffee table.”

Valeria nods, watching Robin finally take a bit of the donut. “Everything but the peach rings, got it. Would I need a visitor’s pass? Should I tell security to page for you, Robin?”

She nods, then realizes the question that’s actually been asked. “Page--sorry, sorry. You should have security page to the 3rd floor front desk for me, Robin,” she laughs. When her eyes slowly drift away from Valeria over to Eddie, they narrow. “Dickhead,” she mutters.

Eddie’s laughter is loud--sputtering like a car that’s not willing to start. Robin’s verbal assault of Asshole, who enjoys too much the suffering of others doesn’t slow his amusement. “Buckley, you know I love you right?” Eddie returns, wiping the corners of his eyes.

“I know you like to see me suffer,” Robin returns. She’s downed half the donut.

“Same thing,” Eddie returns.

“Steve’s going to hear about this. I am so ratting you out for enjoying my suffering.”

Eddie looks over to Valeria. “I mean, Valeria should also be getting some blame. She was playing unfair.”

Valeria huffs, pushing up from the counter. “I was trying to help Robin after you forgot her candy.”

“And who’s fault is it that I forgot?”

“Yours,” Valeria huffs.

Eddie’s brow raises and Valeria can feel the heat blazing under her skin. “Maybe some of it is mine. But..”

“Ew, ew, ew, ew,” Robin huffs, “I don’t need that mental image. Not a second time. Thank you, Valeria. I really appreciate you helping me and my little kiddos out by bringing the candy to me. And for the donut too. It was amazing. I am going to leave now before I embarrass myself any further. Nice to meet you, Valeria. I’m sorry for…being all that.”

“Never apologize, Robin,” Valeria returns. “Nice meeting you too.”

Robin’s sneakers squeak as she turns to head back to the front door. She’s muttering to herself, but the distinct words aren’t clear enough to catch. Eddie plucks a donut from the box, a smile on his lips. “You really don’t play fair. Robin’s never been that flustered in her life since high school.”

“I take it that you and Robin share more than just an adoration for each other.”

“Maybe once Robin and I got a little too drunk and confessed crushes we had--turns out we have a lot more in common than we originally guessed. It also probably didn’t help that her crush had been someone I sort of hooked up with once.”

“Sort of hooked up with?”

“We never got past touching under clothes.”

“Well, now you’ve got a home run so I wonder how that’s going for Robin?”

“Robs, I love her. Her and Nancy keep flitting around each other. Robin’s scared Nancy will leave again.”

“So they dated before?” Valeria questions.

“No. But Robin’s had a crush on Nancy scene ‘85.”

Valeria whistles. “Long time to have a crush. I promise I won’t go breaking her heart. I have a feeling there’s no shovel talk.”

“Yeah, yeah for her, probably.”

Valeria holds her first three fingers. “Scouts honor then,” she states. “No broken hearts.” Valeria means no broken hearts for Robin. That she’ll just drop off the candy and slip away without anything extra. But there’s something in Eddie’s eyes--it’s brief. It’s not quite sadness, but whatever it is turns down his eyes. It dampness the usual sparkle and then the darkness is gone. The shine sparkes again like it always has.

He smiles, repeating her stance. “Thanks for lunch by the way. I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome, Eddie.”

________________________________

2:09PM--that’s the time that Eddie’s radio reads when Valeria pulls into the parking lot to the hospital. The candy was there on the table right there Eddie said they’d be making the departure from the shop back to his trailer and then subsequently back into the town quick and painless. Valeria will give Hawkins that--it’s relatively easy and painless to get anywhere inside the town. There may not be a lot inside of the town, but at least it’s easy to navigate.

The candy rustles in the bag at her side, but Valeria keeps her stride long and even. The doors slide open and upon entrance, a woman greets her at a side table. “What brings you in today?”

“I actually need to see Robin Buckley. I have something for her.”

The woman nods, passing Valeria a pink sticker, VISITOR is written across the top of it. “Head over to security. He can have her paged down here.”

Valeria nods, slapping the sticker onto her chest. The guard is an older man, hat pushed up so far on his head it’s barely on. But he smiles at Valeria approaches. “How can I help you today, ma’am?”

“One of the nurses--Robin Buckley--I’m here to pass along something to her.”

The man nods. “Name, please.”

“Valeria Browns.”

He reaches for the phone, then pauses. “Oh, let me make sure it’s no contraband.” Valeria happily tips the bag forward, showing all the individual bags of candy into his line of sight. His grin is bright. “Oh, the kids are going to love this.” He punches at the keys. “Hi, Linda. Can you spare Buckley for a moment? A Valeria Browns is here to see her.”

A few moments pause. Valeria takes in the bustle of people around them. For a small town hospital, Valeria doesn’t anticipate so many people walking about. Most are staff--denoted by their badges and scrubs. But there’s clearly townspeople here. Some are waiting on the first floor. It looks like there might be some outpatient area. Just beyond Valeria’s not sure. Maybe it’s the emergency department. Though Valeria was sure not to use that entrance.

“First floor, just off from radiology actually.”

Radiology. Valeria smiles when her eyes catch the security guard’s eyes. “Buckley will be right down.”

Valeria nods, stepping off to the side, bag of candy still tapping at her calves. There’s never been a lot of love for hospitals. She’d been at one with her grandmother to identify her parents bodies’. Once Valeria broke her wrist and spent several hours waiting to get a cast. They’re always a little bit too cold and somehow too stuffy at the same time. A necessity Valeria understood, but not a place she could spend hours on end at.

“Uh, hi.” Robin gives a tiny wave.

“Hi,” Valeria returns, extending out the plastic bag. “As promised.”

Robin takes the bag gently. “Thanks. And um-I’m sorry about earlier. That was totally weird. What happened at Eddie’s shop. He and I--it’s complicated and weird. We’re like…siblings after everything that happened. And we just, it’s weird and I want to apologize.”

Valeria nods. “Like I said, Robin, never apologize.”

“But I have to. It was totally, totally, totally weird what happened. Eddie and I are almost too much alike sometimes. I didn’t mean to make you feel weird or anything.”

The urge takes over before Valeria can really stop it. She takes Robin’s forearm gently into her hold. “I’m flattered.”

“But you and Eddie--and I’m--but.” Valeria only smiles, and then Robin’s face lights up. “ Oh .”

“Oh,” Valeria laughs.

“Oh. My. God.” Robin grins, a small giggle leaving her. “Of course, of course. So of course.”

Valeria loves the light in Robin’s face. The way her own giggles make her appear so much younger. “So again, never apologize, Robin.”

“Thank you, Valeria. Seriously. I mean it. Thank you.” Her voice is softer. Robin slips in a little closer to Valeria. “I really do mean it. I appreciate the candy, your understanding. How long are you going to be in town for? You don’t look like someone who’d just pick Hawkins as a place to land?”

“I’m-I’m not really. Just here until my car gets fixed. Check engine light came on and Hawkins was the closest town.”

Robin nods. “That’ll do it. Hasn’t been so bad has it? In Hawkins?”

Valeria shakes her head. “Hasn’t been all bad. Definitely been interesting.”

“Oh, c’mon. Hawkins isn’t that bad. Now.” Now-- present. Then--past. Evolution, but it’s always tethered. One cannot evolve without a starting part.

“Eddie said the same thing,” Valeria returns. “1983-1986?” Valeria tacks on in question.

Robin nods. “Oh, that’s the stretch. You are correct. Absolutely bonkers of a time. I met Steve in ‘84 working in an ice cream shop. The rest is sort of history now. It’s not necessarily jumbled but it’s a lot there.”

Robin’s gaze is unsettled. Like the years are playing in front of her eyes. Valeria’s firms her grip to Robin’s forearm. It seems to bring her back and she shakes her head. Valeria wonders what memories are replaying. How did ice cream turn into a witch hunt for Eddie? But perhaps, there will always be holes for Valeria. She won’t be here forever.

“Madness,” Robin echoes. “Sorry, sorry. Anyways. Thanks so much for dropping off the candy. My kiddos and I are forever indebted to you.”

Valeria only laughs, patting Robin’s hand. She placed it at some point on Valeria’s hands. How Valeria didn’t notice it before, but Robin’s hands are warm. Like she might keep warmers in her pockets so she’s never startling the children she works with. “Tell them it is an honor to drop off candy for their recovery.”

Robin salutes Valeria. “Aye, captain.”

Tagging @munsonology @avidreader73 @2clones-1kamino

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson series #eddie munson x black oc #eddie munson x black female oc #stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #jonathan byers #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #h writes #older!eddie munson #older!oc #mechanic!eddie munson

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aejiajia · 9 months

Note

okay so here's my request babe : the prompt “when is the last time you ate?” with miss sujin and her dear friend kalaya, because i feel like inka is protective and attentive to sujin, and she knows that sometimes the girl tends not to pay attention to herself.. so yea! thank you in advance babe 💗

> Attentive

Warnings! : Self neglect, several mentions of medications for ADHD

Okay bbg i'm gonna be so fr with you seeing this request got me so excited i immediately started writing and hyperfocused on this until it was done.. congrats you broke through my procrastination issue. Fun fact, this post is glitched on my laptop.

Summary : Sujin forgets herself, but she has someone who reminds her.

Timeline : September 1st, 2023

Event!

Life is chaotic. Sujin’s life is chaotic. The born pink tour coming to an end, her career at an alltime high, the lingering effects of headlining so many stadiums, contract renewals happening while they’re still in America for performances, events she had to go to with her members, events she had to go to alone. All in all, she’d barely had a breather in the last months.

Truthfully, she couldn’t remember the last time she actually took her medications, wondering if she did when it was already too late and she was about to go on stage in 5 minutes. It had noticeable effect, less focus, easily distractible, what some might call too much energy, hyperfocusing on one single piece of make-up for hours which almost got her to be late on stage.

Now back in Korea, stepping into her apartment, it was the first moment of silence she’d had in months. It was kind of eerie- really. And she did not remember her medication tasting that shitty.

The silence was too silent, which meant everything racing at her in her mind. She had things to do immediately tomorrow, last concert preparations, contract finalizing, solo preparations (why did she want to do that again already?)

There was a point at which the silence became loud, which was the final straw.

She picked her phone up from the table, scrolling through contacts.

[I’m back, missed u <3]

Thankfully- She’d gotten the hint.

The knock on her door didn’t take long and Sujin didn’t waste a second to open the door.

“Hi there.”

Sujin smiled, waving. “Hi Kal.” Sujin was one for nicknames, unoriginal ones maybe, but she always provided nicknames.

It took a moment for Sujin to correctly process, but she opened the door fully for Kalaya to step in. She hoped her medication would kick in soon or else this would be a long day.

Inka didn’t seem to mind, relieving Sujin as she closed the door behind the younger (okay, it was one year, but Sujin took as much advantage of being the unnie for once as she could).

Inka sat down at the kitchen table wordlessy. She watched as Sujin processed before sitting across from her, barely containing a snicker.

“So.. Gocheok Sky Dome? That’s an achievement.”

Kalaya smiled, leaning back in her chair.

Sujin huffed, giggling. “Full of those, apparently. Been a lot of those these past few months.” She hummed, taking a moment to recollect everywhere they’d been. Inka nodded.

“So i heard.”

Sujin bit her lip. “Did you watch any performances?”

“A few.” Kalaya responded, reaching across the table to hold Sujin’s hand. “You five did really well.”

Sujin smiled, genuine. Though still not being good at taking compliments very well, she changed the subject. “I’m happy you got your personal instagram. Now i can stop spamming the boys and spam only you instead.”

Inka laughed, Sujin smiling at the sound. “Looking forward to it.”

A silence fell for a little while, comforting, not like the one when she’d stepped into her apartment.

Kalaya bit her lip, looking back up at Sujin. “So.. When’s the last time you ate?”

Sujin looked back, not having expecting the question.

She thought, she definitely ate day of their last concert, Rosé had dragged her out for a late night meal snack. She’d spent her last few days in L.A messing around with her members and trying out several diners and exploring. She landed back in Korea yesterday so that all amounts to..

“Yesterday morning?”

Just like Sujin hadn’t expected the question, Kalaya wasn’t expecting the answer. She took a second before answering.

“And you’re not hungry, at all?”

Sujin pat her stomach, pouting softly. “I at least haven’t noticed.”

“Sujin..”

“Say it.”

Inka sighed. “Sujin unnie.”

“Thank you.”

Kalaya rolled her eyes, but let Sujin bask in the honorific for a second. “You need to take care of yourself. Did you at least take your medications?”

Sujin nodded, pointing back to the half full cup of water and the bottle of pills that she promised to herself she would clean up after texting Kalaya and then completely forgot about.

When Sujin whipped her head back around Inka already sat with her phone in hand, making Sujin tilt her head in confusion.

Inka looked up, raising a brow. “I’m ordering food, god knows you need it look at how pale you are. And i’m hungry too, it’s around dinner time anyway.” She hummed. “What would you like?”

Sujin blinked, taking a second to let the information process before responding. “As long as it tastes good with kimchi.”

Inka smiled. “Understood.”

After ordering- and presumably texting if the furious typing and scoffs accompanied by a ‘oh my god Jisung.’- Kalaya put aside her phone, giving Sujin a soft smile.

“So… did you have separate rooms, or..?”

“We’re not having this conversation.”

“Yes we are.”

“Okay, fine, who’s your mystery boyfriend?”

“Okay, well you know what-”

“No no, this is an exchange now. Tell me and i’ll tell you.”

“Fine fine, you first.”

Sujin hummed. “No. No we did not.”

#ryeo sujin #sujin.relationships #sujin.writing #event!!#blackpink 5th member #blackpink additional member #kpop idol oc #kpop oc #idol oc #blackpink added member #kpop added member #fake kpop member #fake kpop idol #fake kpop addition

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cyncity2000 · 1 year

Text

I posted 1,221 times in 2022

That's 141 more posts than 2021!

165 posts created (14%)

1,056 posts reblogged (86%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@salemruinseverything

@combeauferre

@sithiegoodness

@castielsupernatural

@twelvefifteencomic

I tagged 1,193 of my posts in 2022

Only 2% of my posts had no tags

#i like (the idea of) queue - 567 posts

#bastille - 127 posts

#send my regards to super hell - 110 posts

#video - 81 posts

#spn - 58 posts

#tiktok - 53 posts

#jill gets asks - 47 posts

#writing shit - 44 posts

#charlie barnes - 36 posts

#destiel - 35 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#so when it went back to paper for a bit i’d just take entire plates of fruit and dessert with me when i left 🤷‍♀️ sometimes real food too

My Top Posts in 2022:

yes i’m totally normal about woody & his dad doing a lil pub gig with dan and charlie and proceeding to play teenage dirtbag together, during which dan comes up to the mic with his phone open to the lyrics and then proceeds to immediately leave his microphone and go share with charlie instead for literally no reason. i’m fine <3 just . look at this shit

53 notes - Posted April 17, 2022

ok but i am CRYING at this headline

57 notes - Posted January 6, 2022

this was too long for twitter but honestly i was pleasantly surprised about the publicity for heartstopper because i expected everyone on twitter to be like "wELL if every single actor doesn't immediately come out to everyone then how do we KNOW all the queer characters are actually being played by queer actors hmMM??" bc yknow. the internet is just Like That 🙃

and heartstopper's response (bc they almost certainly anticipated this) was literally just like "we have a queer cast, trust us, and not a single person in the cast owes you any more information than that. not to MENTION we go above and beyond to show you that this tv series was CREATED not only by an openly queer author who was given FULL control to write the entire screen adaptation of their own graphic novels, but also by a openly queer director who specifically made sure to hire as many queer workers as possible for every. other. department of the show. because yes, it's super important that queer actors play queer characters; but it's even MORE important that the representation extends FAR beyond the people you see on screen."

bc THAT IS HOW YOU HAVE GOOD REPRESENTATION. NOT forcing all of your actors to spend every single interview fielding questions about their own personal gender & sexual identities. good representation is making sure that―unlike the majority of films and tv shows, sadly―if you look beyond the main cast, the roles of director/producer/writer/photographer/makeup artist/crew member/etc are ACTUALLY fulfilled by a diverse group of talented people. true representation doesn't stop at the actors, or the portrayal of characters. it goes all the way up the ladder to everyone making the movie/tv show/etc happen in the first place. change can't happen long-term unless "older," well-established people in the industry (like euros lyn) use their position to create opportunities for fresh, new, young, diverse talent.

tldr heartstopper is a brilliant example of how to properly create a series both by and for the lgbtq+ community, and i was SO relieved to see all the publicity revolve around the story and the actors and the importance of representation WITHOUT requiring anybody who wasn't already out to clarify anything about themselves.

(ramble mostly inspired by this and sourced from this, if you haven't watched the video you 100% should !!! also ofc special shoutout to kit for taking absolutely no shit from twitter)

70 notes - Posted May 16, 2022

me, busy screaming about bim & senab maybe going on the US tour with bas

meanwhile, bastille:

85 notes - Posted April 18, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

ok slight tour spoiler ahead but: during one segment he asked us to pick a noise and an influencer. someone said ‘boink’ and he was like ‘somehow that still sounds sexual’ and then we got to influencer and he was like ‘oh my god did someone say PHIL??’ so the sentence ended up being something about a secret society called the boink run by phil lester

and THEN he fucking says (something like) ‘joke’s on you, me and phil have been in boink together from the START!!!’ and. dan. my dude. YOU were the one who said boink sounded sexual do you not realize what that Sounds Like 💀

172 notes - Posted October 14, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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nyaluvey · 1 year

Text

The Chicken - part II

There’s a murderous monster on the loose in Cambridge. Amidst the chaos, a lone girl notices something after coming face to face with the deadly beast.

Part I | Part III

Churchill College isn’t usually such a crowded place - at least, it never seemed so from the windows of the university bus when I passed by every morning. Reverberating through the field was the ear-grating sound of helicopter blades. It was so overwhelming that I was starting to hear my own heartbeat as well. Scooping the large pair of noise-cancelling headphones out of my backpack, I quickly turned on some soothing songs on my phone to block out the auditory torture. As many other owners of the little devilish screens would understand though, one does not simply unlock the phone for music without scrolling through something completely unrelated along the way. So as a normal human being that has no self-control, I clicked on the news updates again as if I haven’t been doing the same thing every few minutes for the past day.

“The Chicken Crisis Escalates: Real-Life Zombie Apocalypse?” “Cambridge Professor Confirms that Infected Victims are Likely Still Alive” “URGENT: Residents of Cambridge please head to one of the evacuation points below IMMEDIATELY”

Same headlines as just now.

I looked back up as the people around me started swarming towards the same direction. The large helicopter, the long kind with 2 sets of propellers on top - I don’t know what they’re called - has landed and had its doors wide opened. Everyone was pushing in as hard as they could. The two soldiers at the entrance were visibly having a hard time keeping things under control. I could almost empathise as I struggled just as hard to not be carried away by the huge current of panicking civilians.

That was when a large hand grabbed mine from behind, pulling me out of the dreadful sea of fear with brute force. (3/10 would not recommend)

“Don’t get stranded, this isn’t the one we need to get on,” the old man said.

“Yea, I know,”

This monk-like person who apparently pursued The Chicken all the way from Japan to Cambridge approached me a little after my clash with the monster. He told me I was the first to survive her, and asked me to assist him in chasing her down. As a strong independent woman who believes strongly in justice, my answer was, of course, no. I have a degree to finish and I don’t plan on dying until I get back at the man who said I wouldn’t last in Cambridge.

But then the monk made me listen to what he claims to be the story behind all this chaos. It was difficult to believe yet at the same time was the only logical explanation for the series of events that happened these past few days. And most importantly, if that whole story was true…

Then he clearly got it all wrong.

Knowing that I had to intervene, I agreed to join him on his express trip back to Japan, to retrieve the key to stopping the murderous girl.

And so I stepped onto the jet headed for Tokyo.

------

“Remind me why this key to stopping The Chicken is on top of Tokyo Tower again?” I asked on our way up the tower. The tourist attraction usually teeming with people was eerily empty at 3 am.

“Did you expect it to be here?”

“I mean…”

“Exactly,”

“…Fair,” I rolled my eyes a little.

“Remember, to forcefully release one from the possession of the wretched fox, we need three things: the keystone sealed on top of the tower, the real name of the possessed, and the fox’s tear,” the old man started nagging again, shaking the little file of information he had gathered on the monster in front of me, “We would have gotten the first 2 by the time we reach, but the third will be difficult - that’s where you come in. The monster is clearly willing to communicate with you, so we’ll be relying on you to make it cry before it can destroy the keystone,”

“Yea, yea, you’re telling me this for the third time already…why didn’t you just bring the stone to Cambridge in the first place?” I whispered to myself.

“…I didn’t think I had to resort to this,”

Surprised that he heard me, I took a glance at the man who was standing on the other side of the elevator. It may have just been my imagination, but the grip he had on the sword tied to his waist seemed to have tightened a little when he said that.

The rest of the ascent was silent. Even the weight of the mountain of self-defence gear I’ve stuffed into my backpack could not compare to the heaviness of the air.

I might have gotten him wrong as well.

#original story #the chicken #lgbtq #vey writes #dream writing #writing #creative writing #to be continued #comedy #thriller #this one is a little shorter #mostly just for build up #part 3 would be GREAT tho #trigger warning #violence #murder #gender dysphoria

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fictionalmenmakemecry · 2 years

Text

Being All Alone

Written Upon Request!

Click here for request

Characters: Lily-Rose Depp, Johnny Depp x Reader

Summary: Meeting up with Lily-Rose, gives you an insight on how her dad is currently doing in this dark part of his life. With some convincing on her end, you check up on him to make sure he's doing okay.

Warnings: Cursing, Trial talk

I woke up to the sound of my alarm. I aimlessly tried to find my ringing phone not wanting it to be morning yet. Finally landing my hand on it, I tapped the screen carelessly to try and shut it up.

I dragged myself out of bed and made my way to the kitchen. I instantly started making coffee not even thinking about it as it has become muscle memory at this point. With my eyes still half closed I got my favourite coffee mug and poured it to the brim. The smell of fresh coffee hitting my nostrils instantly perked my mood.

I wander over to the living room and turned on the TV to see what was happening in the world. My eyes landed on a familiar face and I could feel my heart sink a little. I read the news headlines to see one of my oldest friends start a very public trial with his ex-wife.

After not talking to him for over 6 months, I immediately felt a ping of guilt in my stomach for not being there for him. I picked up my phone to see when was the last time I had even talk to Lily and notice it was about 3 month ago. It was just a quick check up on how she was doing.

Without evening giving it a second thought, I texted her asking if she would be free to meet for a catch up. In minutes, my phone chimed.

Lily: YES

Being friends with Johnny over the years made me close with his family. But after Johnny and Vanessa divorce, I came extra close to his children. I would invite Lily and Jack over to my place and we would hang out. They would sleep over time to time to get away from the spot light. When Johnny met Amber, Lily took it hard and clashed with Amber. Arguments turned nasty to the point where Lily could never be around her dad when Amber's presence was around. With that, Lily lived with me whenever she had to be in the US. We grew close and I sympathized with her knowing how she felt as I went through the same situation at her age.

Johnny always appreciated me doing that and would treat me to dinners and gifts to show how thankful he was. I just wanted to help and be there for her. Because no one was there for me.

Since then, I've always made it a point to try and stay in contact with them even as we had our own lives to live.

After running some errands, I parked my car and walked to the cafe we decided to meet.

I opened the door to the busy place and looked around to see her playing on her phone stirring her coffee in the corner. A smile came upon my face making me realise how much I missed her. I went up to the counter got myself a coffee and made my way to her table.

She looked up instantly as I put down my cup and I was greeted with a huge grin.

"Y/n! You have no idea how happy I am to see you " Lily smiled cheerfully leaning over giving me a tight squeeze.

"Me too Lily. I thought you might have been in France" I sat myself down talking a sip of my hot coffee.

"Well, with everything going on with Dad right now. I thought it be better off if I stay here just in case" She explained hooking her hair behind her hair.

"How is he getting on?" I winced.

Her smiled dropped from her face and she looked down at her cup for a moment. It made me realised how much this trial was affecting her.

"Things are tense right now" She stated playing with the empty sugar packet.

"He doesn't have many people around to support him... like emotionally." She explained glancing up at me.

"What you mean?" I asked confused

Johnny always had his family and friends close to him. To hear Lily say that he didn't have anyone near him in this particular time seemed unusual.

"Dad is pulling away from any family support right now and all his friends.. well.. I don't think they want to be associated with the trial just in case it turns out bad" Lily bit her lip in worry.

"Oh, I wish I knew this sooner" I hummed

"I thought he would have been too busy and too many people around him that he wouldn't want another face to look at" I continued feeling sadden to the thought of Johnny not having anyone by his side,

"I told him to reach out to you multiple times but he said he didn't want to pull you into his mess" Lily sighed.

I watched her as she tapped her finger anxiously on the coffee table. I scanned her face and notice subtle circles under her eyes. This wasn't the usual Lily I knew.

"You're really worried, aren't you?" I asked concernedly

I took her hand up in mine and gave it a reassuring squeeze. It broke my heart to see her like this. I could see tears whelm up in her eyes before she flickered them down and wiped her finger to get rid of tears before they fell.

"I don't know what that.... " She hesitated

"bitch is capable of doing" She continued lowering voice.

"I know, I know" I muttered pressing my lips together.

I met Amber once or twice very briefly. She seemed cold towards me. Saying that, maybe I was imagining it after everything Lily told me about her. I tried to have an open mind. But after hearing all the allegations between her and Johnny, I knew Lily's perception of her was right.

"Can you please reach out to dad?" I snapped out of my daze and looked to Lily to see her looking into my eyes, pleading.

"Of course" I reassured her

I took a sip of out my coffee and moved on with catching up with each other. We sat there for a few hours before Lily had plans to meet up with someone else. We gave each other a quick hug outside the coffee shop before going our separate ways.

For the rest of the day, my thoughts never left what Lily said to me. The worry in her voice stuck with me and whenever I thought about Johnny, I could feel my anxiety peak.

For the rest of the evening, I made dinner and decide to relax for the rest of the night with a movie. I turned on Netflix to see one of the movies being recommended to me was "Edward Scissorhands".

"Fine fine! I get the message. I'll ring him" I exclaimed to myself putting down my glass of white wine and reaching for my phone on the coffee table.

I got Johnny up on the phone and rang him. I glanced up at the clock while bringing the phone up to my ear, hoping I wasn't disturbing him. The phone rang once before it was picked up and a familiar voice was on the other end.

"Y/n!" Johnny voice came through the other end, friendly as always.

"Johnny, hey!" I felt a smile come upon my face instantly.

"Long time no talk" He chuckled through the phone.

I got up from the couch uneasily and started slowly pacing my living room.

"I know, too long. I was wondering if you would want to catch up? I know you have a lot going on right now but if you're busy don't worry about it" I heard myself start to babble.

"No no, that would be great. I was actually going to reach out but you bet me to it"

Was he though?

"Would you be able to come over tonight?" Johnny asked

I raised my eyebrows being caught off guard on how soon he wanted to see me.

"Uh.. Sure. Let me get situated and I'll be there in 30" I said looking down at my pajama set up.

"Sounds good, see you then" Johnny hung up.

I brought the glass of wine up to my mouth and chugged the remainders. I throw on something quick and tied my hair up out of my face not wanting to deal with it. I switched off the lights and grabbed my keys heading out the door.

I hung out with Johnny thousands of times over the years and we both gone through up and downs. But hearing his voice over the phone I knew there was something off about him. Maybe it was stress? Or just exhausted.

I turned into the opening electric gate and drove slowly up the drive way. I put the car into park and brought my bag and a bottle of wine. As I made my way up the front door. I heard shuffling and loud music behind the door. Everything seemed pretty normal so far. Johnny always had his place blasting with music.

"Hello?" I yelled in while opening the door knowing he wouldn't hear me if I knocked on the door.

I saw Johnny's head peek around the corner and grin appearing on his face.

I closed the door behind me and walked towards Johnny's open arms. We hugged for a moment and I pulled away.

"I feel like you need more of this lately" I chuckled handing him a bottle of wine.

"Awh thank you" He muttered looking down at the bottle.

I followed him into the kitchen and heard the music getting louder. I walked in to see the counter covered in files and papers. Not one surface was uncovered in this room.

"Sorry for the mess" Johnny mumbled stacking papers on top on each other and moving them all to one table, leaving the kitchen countertop free. He went over the speaker blearing music and switched it off instantly bringing the room to silence.

"Coffee?" He offered looking over.

"Stronger" I stated smirking.

He raised his eyebrows giving me a cheeky grin before reach for the bottom cabinets to pull out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.

He came around the counter and sat on the stool next to me. He poured generous potions into each glass before sliding one over to me. Before I had even brought the glass to my mouth, Johnny swallowed the contents in his in one. I took a sip and felt the burning liquid run down my throat.

"So I'm guessing you're not doing too good" I coughed recovering from the hard liquor.

Johnny chuckled while pouring himself another hefty glass.

He glanced over at me before taking down another glass without even a wince.

"I don't even know anymore y/n" He pressed his lips together looking down at the glass.

I reached over to the bottle and unscrewed the cap, leaning over pouring him a smaller potion than before.

"Thanks" He said giving me a small smile.

I looked over to the table full of files and saw some law books that I wouldn't have a chance of understanding.

"The bitch is changing her whole story. She can barely keep track of the lies she's making up" Johnny uttered

He brought his hand up to his hair and pushed it back. He face was exhausted. The bags under his eyes made him look 10 times older than he was. This ordeal was taking a lot out of him.

"Why didn't you reach out?" I whispered.

Johnny looked into my eyes for the first time and all I could see was sadness. He looked away and sat back on the stool, looking at his rings on his tattooed covered hands.

"I assumed you wouldn't want to associated with me" He sighed.

"You know what will never be the case" I felt my stomach drop with melancholiness by the thought of it.

"A lot of people... How do I say this" He started.

"Certain old friends of mine have strongly shared their thoughts and have not talked to me since" He took another sip of his drink.

"They side with her?" I spluttered in disbelief.

Johnny shrugged and got up from the stool walking around the island and making his way to the kitchen.

"How you feeling hunger wise?" He asked searched the shelves of his fridge.

"I could snack" I commented looking down at the amber liquor in my glass.

He opened the door of the freezer not being satisfied with what was in the fridge. Pulling out a frozen pizza box and looked over gesturing at it.

I nodded taking another swig of my drink watching him rip open the box carelessly. He got a oven tray and tossed it in the oven before fiddling with the knobs on the oven.

I watched him as he came back around reaching over to a box and taking out cigarette before looking over at me.

"Is it okay?" He flickered his eyes to the cigarette, holding the lighter in the other hand.

"Yeah, of course. It's your house" I assured him surprised that he would even ask.

"Just making sure. The whore I donated my jizz to for awhile had a massive problem with it" Johnny grinned.

I broke into a laugh forgetting that he had a talent when it came to words. I looked over to see him laughing lightly while he exhaled some of the smoke through his nose.

"Well, I'm not going anywhere" I commented referring to the early conversation.

"I know" He flickered his eyes to me taking another puff of his cigarette.

"I guess.... Apart of me was afraid of reaching out because I didn't want to find out if you didn't want to be... Associated with me" Johnny hesitantly said.

I frowned to the thought of completely pulling away from him and telling him to pretty much fuck off. To have your closest friends want nothing to do with you when you need them most, made my chest ache.

We sat there for awhile just enjoying each other's company hearing the oven fans work in the background.

"If you ever need me for anything. I'm always here. I always have been" I reassured him.

A small smile appeared on his face as another cloud of smoke bellowed from his nose.

"I know. Over the years, you always were so good to the kids. Especially Lily-Rose." Johnny glanced over.

"Well, I'm glad I was there for her"

He brought his hand up and scratch his forehead before taking one last inhale of the cigarette and stomping it out on the ashtray close to us.

"She had a really rough time with Amber. Looking back on it now, I should have done more"

I looked down understanding that he was in a hard place when it came to the people who were close in his life. I had no place to comment on what he should have done.

"Lily and I used to be close. I love Jack but he was closer to his mother over the years. Lily and I, we- we had a bond I always wanted with my kids. I sometimes think that Amber has done too much damage and we'll never get that back. She's all grown up anyway" Johnny expressed bleakly.

"Johnny, she's always going to be your Lily. She'll always need her dad" I said softly watching him pull himself off of the stool and making his way over to the oven.

He opened the door to check to see the status of the pizza which seemed to need a few more minutes. He turned around and leaned on the over door, placing his hands on the handle of the door at either side of him.

"Yeah, maybe. I don't know" He mumbled quietly looking at the ground.

As the night went on, we tucked into the pizza and had some beers. Johnny asked how were things on my end and nothing was too exciting going on in my life.

I felt his mood lift as the night went on, trying to stay clear from anymore trial talk. He was still the same ol' Johnny behind all the stress. The same quirky humor peeking through every now and again.

Before I knew it, I looked down at my watch it see it turn 2:13am and didn't even realise time went by.

"Shit" I looked at my watch surprised.

"I didn't even notice" Johnny remarked looking down at his phone.

I picked up my nearly empty bottle of beer and drank the rest in one swallow.

"I better get going" I commented as I glued myself from the stool I've been sitting on for way too long.

"Whoa. I don't think you should drive home in your state" Johnny gestured at the empty glasses and beer bottles on the counter.

My feet touched the ground and I suddenly felt more buzzed than when sitting down. I felt my balance sway a little and noticed Johnny hand grasping my arm trying to keep more from tripping.

I looked up at him and started laughing. The nostalgia in the moment I felt was strong from all the nights we were hammered and trying to keep ourselves from falling over.

"Come on, let me help you to the guest room" Johnny chuckled

"I forgot you have no ankles when you get any way drunk" He continued bringing my arm around his shoulders resting most of my weight on him.

"D-don't tell me you don't miss this though?" I hiccupped.

He walked me out of the kitchen and up the stairs bringing me to the guest room that I've stayed only a couple of times. But still it was familiar.

He sat me on the bed talking a few steps back to check if I was sober enough to get ready for bed.

"You good?" He asked with a grin on his face.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine, don't worry" I brushed him off.

I kicked off my shoes and crawled over to the top of the bed wiggling myself under the sheets. I closed my eyes feeling the cold pillow cool my warm face.

"Night" I heard Johnny whispered before making his way out of the room, switching off the lights and closing the door behind him softly.

Before I knew it, I was unconscious and drooling.

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#johnny x reader #fanfic #fluff #smut #johnnydepp #depp #fanfiction #imagines #johnny depp court case #johnny depp

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