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#but apparently it's not normal to leave social media for 3 days
bella-buggied · 11 months
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hey! please do a one shot where bella is mad at reader (for some reason you can create) and ignores her but then someone is being rude at the reader so bella ends up defending her and comforting her. <3
Thank you!!!
ɪᴛ's ɴᴏᴛ ғᴀɪʀ - ʙᴇʟʟᴀ ʀᴀᴍsᴇʏ
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pairing: bella ramsey x actress!reader
warnings: slut shaming, misunderstandings
note: this is my first request!! i hope i do alright lol i'll try my best. they/them pronouns for bella. oh also, i made it set in the met gala because bella looked so good in there and i just thought it would be cool. this is around 2.5k words guys ho-ly
It wasn't like they were in the wrong. They weren't and you knew it. Bella knew you knew that too, they had very explicitly let you know with their yelling that day.
You were just too stubborn to admit you had made a mistake and Bella was too proud to settle down after a 'pathetic attempt of an apology' from your part. Typical of you two, always on and off.
And it was fine, if Bella wasn't up to having a civil conversation, you weren't going to explain things either. Bella could stay mad for as long as they wanted, and could ghost you and keep pretending to hate you, but you knew Bella couldn’t live without you.
Except this time it seemed different. Because Bella had stormed out your house and driven away only to not come back the next day, and now it had been a month since your argument and your fights never went on for longer than a week, and maybe— just maybe, it was over.
You were okay with that too.
It’s not like you were dependent on them. And you were still mad at them for their childish attitude during the argument. What kind of person walks away during a fight and leaves you with the words on your mouth? Bella, apparently.
Your life kept going as always, an argument wasn’t worth moping and you were in a very busy point in your career right now —you both were— you couldn’t just stop and be all depressed about it.
Sure, at nights like this where the only thing you could do was replay the fight on your head over and over again, you started to miss them and wish Bella could talk to you again because at the end of the day you had been at fault and you felt for them in a way. But you wouldn’t fold that easily, they had to apologize too for their reckless behavior.
And your fans seemed to have noticed, being in the middle of a press tour, they saw you very so often in interviews and they could tell that even though you seemed fine, the bags under your eyes weren’t just because of jet lag. Your usual posts on social media had diminished to almost zero in this whole month and a half, the only post you had made was just you promoting your latest movie with photos of you and the cast in behind the scenes.
Even the fans had noticed the lack of comments from Bella.
Before your argument, they’d comment on every post and would spam compliments at you, showing off the 'magnificent girlfriend' they had and being overprotective about you when other people complimented you.
The comment section under those pictures seemed empty without Bella’s witty words.
People were already talking. Had you two broken up? After seven long months of a very public relationship with very private ups and downs? Of course they didn’t know about those, they didn’t really know anything else about your very flawed relationship with Bella. They didn’t know anything, not about your mini breakups every now and then, and not about the fights that would normally end in apologies and giggles and making out.
But they knew something was going on this time, because this was more definitive. This could actually mean a real breakup.
And sure, you didn’t let it get to you, you had stuff to do. You couldn’t let something so personal impact on professional life. It was absolutely forbidden.
And yet they were catching up.
Rumors and articles about your breakup coming up and neither of you commenting about it. Just silently reading them and wondering whether the other agreed with the statement or not. Because neither of you knew if you two were actually broken up.
The night of The Met Gala you were very nervous as your stylist helped you with your outfit. You knew they were gonna be there too, and you didn’t know what to do.
Of course you wouldn’t run to them and forget about all of it. But being in the carpet separately could be the confirmation everyone else needed. The one you needed. Walking across that carpet alone knowing Bella was there too, also alone, meant finalizing your relationship to you and to the public.
You weren’t so sure you wanted that.
Of course you didn’t, you loved Bella, even with all the ups and downs, and their stubbornness and their pride. In a way that’s what you loved more about them, even if that was the thing separating you both right now. You couldn’t simply bring yourself to hate them.
Especially not when you know it was your mistake that started it all. That ended it all. That was a better way to put it.
But it wasn’t your fault, not completely at least. If Bella had only listened to your explanation —because you weren’t apologizing, you’d been explaining what happened— things would be so much different.
Maybe you’d be walking into the carpet hand in hand instead of all by yourselves.
You needed to stop thinking about it. It wasn’t worth it. Tonight was supposed to be fun, it was your first time being invited to the gala, and you wouldn’t let Bella and the memories ruin the fun.
It was Bella’s first time on The Met too, and you two were supposed to walk in together, sit together, and have fun together.
But past was past, and if tonight your relationship ended for real, headlines announcing your breakup and flashing lights and voices asking about you two, then that’s what it was meant to happen. And you’d try your best to smile through all of it.
With a sigh and giving a last look at yourself in the mirror, you were ready. You didn’t even realize when your hair and makeup team finished their job, but you looked great. You were wearing a pearl colored dress with tons of ruffles and your hair was up in a long braid falling over your shoulder. You actually loved it, with all the little details and the tons of pearls that adorned your hair.
The cat eyeliner was sharp and you loved it too, your makeup artist was great at always making you look good, even if you looked like shit, she always managed to cover your eye bags almost impeccably. You were super thankful for that.
When you walked out of the hotel and the flashing lights started, it was like everything that once perturbed you vanished into thin air, you did the switch from your personal self to your professional self nearly instantly and your smile grew as you made your way to the car that would take you there.
It didn’t matter now, besides, the Met was all about the drama and everything. The breakup would just feed into it more and you knew that would bring more attention to you. You couldn’t wait to be inside and see what happens on the other side of the carpet, where only the most influential people are allowed to go in. And this time you were included on the list.
The carpet looked huge when you stepped on it, and if your stylist wasn’t by your side you might’ve fainted right there. Sure, it was exciting, but also terrifying. What if you fell? What if you stepped on your dress?
And of course you had to arrive right after them. Your eyes immediately followed after Bella, like an instinctive reaction to their presence, two magnets pulling into each other. They were already halfway through. They looked great too, there was no point in denying it.
The lights came flashing you again, and you couldn’t hide your smile, posing and showing off your outfit that you were so proud of. Your nails were your favorite part of the outfit if you were honest, wine red, almond shaped nails that contrasted with the natural tones of the rest of your attire. It was a perfect match with your lips too, and you thought it was an amazing detail to add onto your whole look of the night.
You couldn’t really listen to everyone yelling at you to get a nice shot of you. People asking you to twirl and show off your nails, to look over your shoulder, and to blow kisses at the camera. That you could do.
You waved hello to the other celebrities and actors who waved at you, so excited to be there and be a part of this whole night. Everything was exciting, seeing your heroes walk beside you and acknowledging your presence felt like a dream.
Once you walked closer and deeper into the carpet, that’s when you started making out the words coming from the photographers and the presenters asking you questions about your outfit.
You gladly answered as best as you could, giving credit to every single person involved with it. “Of course, everything was his magnificent idea, he put everything together to make me look as good. I wouldn’t be anywhere without him, really.” You pointed at your stylist, who only laughed from afar and shook his head.
“Can you show us your braid? It is absolutely amazing!” The woman with the microphone gasped as you twirled around and gave them a better look at the hairstyle.
“Okay, the pearls were my idea, I do gotta admit that.” You giggled, once the love for the thing was shown.
“Wonderful!”
As you kept walking and you got closer to Bella, it seemed like they were going slower on purpose, you didn’t want to think about that. A photographer stopped you again, and of course you wanted to stay there for as long as Bella was inside the twenty feet radius of distance.
They were not on your side of the carpet, still a few feet away. You two were back against each other, and your mistake was turning to check them out for a second.
Then the comments from the press started to shift into the drama that you swore you didn’t care about. Except you did.
“Is it true you and Bella broke up?”
“How is single life going for you?”
“Is it true you cheated on her?”
“People say you’re a slut, how many people did you sleep with?”
A million different variations of the same question suddenly thrown at you, making you stumble on your feet and almost tripping with your heels. You looked around, ignoring the questions as you kept trying to keep your smile going.
Your stylist only smiled at you offering comfort and reminding you to breathe through your nose. You did that, and kept walking as the questions kept going.
How different it is when you’re actually confronted with all those thoughts you’ve been asking yourself in your head. Did you? Did you really cheat on them?
Of course not, it had been an accident, you perfectly knew it. You kept reminding yourself of that. He had kissed you, and you’d pushed him back as soon as it happened. No matter how hard you tried to explain it to them, Bella refused to listen.
It wasn’t your fault, and Bella was in their right to be mad, but the guilt still consumed you every night. Now with these questions, said out loud, you didn’t know if you could keep going.
You opened you eyes when you felt the hand on your hip, holding you tight. You gulped seeing who it was. Bella looked at you with deep eyes, full with sorrow and regret, as well as anger. You didn’t want to smile, not then. Not after everything.
Not when they left you like that.
But you did, and Bella smiled too, and their grip on your hip became only tighter as Bella stared at the cameras with defiance.
“What did you say shitheads?” They yelled, tilting their head and pursing their lips.
The questions stopped in an instant, and you didn’t know what to think. What was happening? Was Bella really holding you again? Defending you from all the harassment?
You felt like you were going to faint again, and so you rested your head on theirs, posing for the pictures because they weren’t stopping, and even with everything going on, it was still your job to look good.
“Are you alright?” they whispered into your ear, and you simply nodded, you couldn’t even bring yourself to look at them again. “Let’s keep going.”
They slightly pushed you forward and so you two kept walking into the next little bundle of reporters who had appreciated the whole scene and kept whispering stuff to themselves. Bella only looked at them that same way and then they stopped.
Who would’ve thought a nineteen year old could hold so much power enough to leave shut a bunch of grown adults just with a look?
“Have anything nice to say? No? Well then you can stay shut like that.” Bella kept chewing on their gum like it was any other day, like you were together.
And then they did it. Bella grabbed your chin and posted a big old kiss on your lips, proving to everybody else and to you that no, you two weren’t broken up. And yes, you still belonged to them.
You still wanted that apology, even when you gave into the kiss. The flashes around you became louder and louder and the questions started once again, but now you couldn’t think of anything else that wasn’t how good their minty breath tasted after so long of being without it.
It felt like heaven, but you pulled apart to take a good look at them. Their black and pearly outfit perfectly matched the pearls embedded onto your dark hair and you wondered if it was a coincidence or you two were just that connected.
“Don’t think I’m forgiving you for just leaving like that.” you whispered with a faint smile on your face, shoving their shoulder away.
They stuck their tongue out to you and scrunched their nose in that way they knew you loved. “And I still don’t want to listen how you snogged your co-star.”
You widened your eyes and shook your head, knowing that they were teasing you now. You couldn’t believe it. “Bell— this time I’m gonna leave.”
But Bella only smiled wider and pulled you closer into another kiss. The only thing you could do was finally wrap your hands around their neck and melt into them.
You two were together again, and it would be rocky, like everything else in your relationship, but after this you felt like you could handle everything that came your way.
You knew that after this event you weren’t going to any after parties, you two had a lot of catching up to do, and a lot of apologies to say.
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thepixelelf · 2 months
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do u know nct?? if so, jung jaehyun and cupid au?!!! if not then au where wonwoo is a regular dude and also the subject of a Prophecy against his best wishes? idk i hope these are fun!!!
I genuinely don't think I could characterize jung jaehyun if I tried... but I can do reluctant Normal Guy wonwoo!! I hope you like it :]
[mr chosen one] It's been three weeks and six days since Wonwoo met the most annoying person in the world. Three weeks and six days since Wonwoo's been able to relax. Three weeks and six days of your constant pestering.
You call yourself the oracle. Whatever the hell that means.
All Wonwoo knows is that you showed up at his workplace out of nowhere as the "social media manager". Why would a company that sells Tupperware need a social media manager? Wonwoo still doesn't know. He's pretty sure you just wormed your way in to complete your life's mission-- annoying the shit out of him.
The first day, you'd leaned into his cubicle and whispered, "Hey. You're Jeon Wonwoo, right?"
And when he hesitantly nodded, wondering how the hell you already knew his name since he was one hundred percent sure he'd have nothing to do with the company's social media, you beamed.
Smiled so bright he thought he might go blind, and said, "I knew I'd find you."
Ever since that first day, you've been telling him over and over again how he's supposed to save the world.
Step number 1: find the king -- whoever that is -- in the heart of the fire.
You haven't told him who the hell "the king" is because apparently, you don't even know. And the whole "heart of the fire" thing is fuzzy to you as well, even though you're the one who said that out loud in the first place.
Step number 2: behead the king.
Yeah. Sure.
"And where am I supposed to get the sword for that?" he asked you nonchalantly a week into your nonsense, his eyes not leaving the spreadsheet he was working on. "Amazon?"
You just shrugged. "You can get anything on Amazon."
Step number 3: bear the crown under the weight of stars.
Whatever that means.
"You can't just say no," you asserted two weeks in. "This is your fate."
"I'm good, thanks." Wonwoo poured himself a mediocre black coffee in the break room, where he'd gone in the hopes of avoiding you. He didn't offer you any.
You crossed your arms. "The world is at stake."
"If the whole world is about to explode, I'm pretty sure you've got the wrong guy."
Almost four weeks of this weirdness, and maybe Wonwoo should've gone to HR by now, but it sounds a little trivial, even to him.
Hey, HR, my coworker keeps telling me I'm part of a world-saving prophecy and is convinced I need to go on a journey. I want either for them to be fired, or a couple weeks off so I can go save the world. Thanks.
Yeah, no. Instead, Wonwoo just braces himself for another day of your pestering.
...Which doesn't happen.
At the halfway point of the first peaceful lunch break Wonwoo's had in weeks, he realizes he hasn't even caught a glimpse of you all morning. He revels in that feeling for a bit, almost embarrassingly gleeful to sit in silence and eat his cup-a-noodles.
Then the afternoon goes by, and you've still yet to meet your annoyance quota for the day.
Wonwoo is happy. Yes. This is good news.
You've finally gotten over your delusions, and he won't have to deal with you anymore.
He's poking his head in Seungkwan's cubicle before he realizes he's doing it.
"Oh, them?" Seungkwan says when Wonwoo asks about you. "They left. They told big boss man we had no reason to employ a social media manager in the first place and got themselves transferred to a sister company."
Wonwoo blinks. "What?"
"Shouldn't you already know? You guys were hanging out like every day."
After that, Wonwoo walks back to his desk in silence. Awkward silence.
Why doesn't he like the silence?
When he sits down, there's a yellow sticky note on his keyboard, which he swears wasn't there when he left.
He wouldn't recognize your handwriting, but he knows it has to be yours.
Fine. I'll behead the king myself.
Wonwoo pinches the note between his fingers, and he remembers the conversation he had with you just the day before.
"It sounds dangerous," he said, focusing on the photocopier in front of him.
"Oh, it will be." You were leaned against the doorjamb. Always close by. "You'll be dodging death at every curve in the road."
"Delightful. I think I'll sit this one out."
The note gets crumpled in Wonwoo's fist. He grabs his coat and takes swift steps toward the elevators.
"Where are you going?" Seungkwan calls out when he sees Wonwoo practically run past his cubicle.
Wonwoo presses the down button before he rethinks and moves to the doors to the stairwell. He yells back, "I have no idea!"
He really doesn't.
But you said all that stuff about fate-- if it's really meant to be him that saves the world...
His footsteps, in whichever direction, will take him to you. Through fate or whatever.
At least, he really, really hopes so.
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maarriiii · 1 year
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Simp (Part 3) | Wilbur Soot
A/N: This took me a couple of tries tbh. It was annoying.
Summary: You give a shoutout to Lovejoy and your best friend finding out about your secret crush.
Pairing(s): OC x gender neutral!reader, OC x actor!reader (platonic)
Warning(s): besties teasing you but hey we’ve all been there before am i right?
italics: tweets or texts
my masterlist :))
~~
Somewhere over in England, Wilbur’s day was going okay. Nothing amazing happened, but nothing terrible happened either. Until his phone vibrates rapidly. He frowned, wondering who could be assaulting his notifications like this.
wil check your Instagram right now
fuckin y/n l/n listens to our band
If he was drinking right now, Wilbur was sure he would spit out and made a mess on his desk. Thankfully, he wasn’t drinking anything but it feels like he’s choking on air. He sent a quick reply to Joe before hurriedly opening his Instagram. Usually, he wouldn’t be flooded with so many notifications on normal days, but this wasn’t a normal day. It took him awhile to find your username in the sea of many excited fans commenting on the fact that you, a famous actor and his celebrity crush, seems to be listening to his band. A few more cursed words leave his lips before he finally finds you and his eyes lights up.
been listening to this guys on repeat @lovejoyonline @wilbursoot you guys should too
The 15 seconds Instagram story where you put one of the band’s song in it seems to leave Wilbur in some sort starstruck state. He had to watch it a couple of times and clicks your username—which leads to your actual verified account—to make sure it was real and not edited. You actually know he exist, Wilbur thought. But, with that realization comes another one that almost scares him. His viewers had been clipping footage of him gushing about you from his streams and posting them almost everywhere. He didn’t think too much of it before since there was no way you were going to see it but now he wondered if that’s how you come to found out about him and his band.
“Oh, fuck me.”
~~
holy shit y/n l/n listens to my band @tommyinnit suck it man 😤
“Okay, you have been smiling since we left set. What’s going on?”
You looked up from your phone, a questioning glance from your friend, Sam, who was sitting across from you. You’d like to think that you were being secretive about it, hiding your lips behind your fingers or turning away from your friend’s line of sight when you felt like smiling again, but in truth, you sucked at hiding it.
“Huh? Oh, it’s nothing.” You shook your head, but a smile was still apparent.
Sam only raised his eyebrow.
“What? It is. It’s nothing. Just something funny I saw online.”
“Right, sure, and I’m straight.” He scoffed. “Come on, I know that smile of yours. It’s a smile that you do whenever someone you like makes a joke or say something funny.”
“I do not have that kind of smile,” you insisted.
“Sure, whatever you say. So,” Sam leaned back on his chair, arms crossed, an amused smile on his lips. “Who is it? A guy, a girl, a person?”
You huffed. “You’re not gonna give up on this, are you?”
“Nope. And you know, I’m just gonna find it on my own later if you don’t want to tell me.”
“I hate you.”
“love you too.”
You could try to be mad at your best friend all you want but it was hard to resist his charming smile. He was one of your first and genuine friend in the industry and has been there for you throughout the hardships of your career. To the eyes of the public, Sam was the flirty troublemaker but to you, he was the most caring person ever.
With a dramatic sigh, which Sam snorted at, you opened your phone, moving from one social media app to another. You typed in Wilbur’s username, tapped the very first result, before handing the phone to Sam’s eager hands. He sat straighter in his seat, eyes moving up and down before finally settling on a picture that he thought was sufficient.
Sam whistled. “He’s tall, good looking, and is in a band. If you’re not gonna go after him, I probably would.”
“Hey! I like him first.” You glared at him.
“Just kidding. Don’t worry. But, what were you smiling at earlier?” He asked, giving back your phone.
Silence.
“I won’t tease you.”
“That’s a lie.”
“Okay, I’d tease you just a little.”
You groaned like a little kid, sliding on your chair. “I was smiling at his tweet, okay? Happy? I saw his tweet where he was talking about me and I smiled at it since he posted it.”
A moment of silence passed before you heard an aww coming from the person in front of you. A few people turned around at the sound of Sam making baby noises, going on and on about how adorable and sweet you were when you’re having a crush and how whipped you are for Wilbur. You buried your face in your hands, a desperate attempt at hiding yourself from people and avoiding embarrassment. You knew this was gonna happen if you told Sam about your crush but you didn’t expect it would happen in a public space where people might take pictures of the two of you.
One last laugh left his lips before he finally stops. “Okay, I’m done. I’m sorry.”
You removed your hands from your face. “I despise you.”
He smiled. “So, what’s next?”
“What do you mean?”
“You can’t just stare at his pictures and tweets and not do anything about it.”
“Okay, one, I don’t stare at his pictures and two—” suddenly, your mood decreased. “—I haven’t thought about that.”
“You should if you want this to go somewhere,”
Sam said, taking a sip of his drink. “Maybe you could start by replying his tweet.”
“You think so?”
He nodded. “Yup, just start small. A ‘hi’, perhaps.”
~~
When you got back to your trailer after lunch with Sam, his words still rang inside your head. You sat in your seat, legs crisscrossed, hands playing with the phone on your lap. It felt like the other day again, when you were contemplating about posting or not. It shouldn’t make you feel this hesitant since you’ve already done it but it did.
“What do I have to lose anyway?” You said, to yourself before unlocking your phone. Fingers moving across the keyboard, typing something that you hoped won’t embarrassed you in the future before finally, hitting the send button.
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hellfirehaley · 7 months
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Hello my dearest ghouls and monsters
Hey everyone I'm so sorry I disappeared off the face of the planet for a long time. I'm so sorry if anyone felt like I've abandoned them or if they did something to make me disappear. It was nothing any of you did first and foremost.
What started as a break from social media during a move snowballed into real life adulting and trying to figure out how to pay a mortgage on our first "home" (a newer 2 bedroom trailer) and then became one of my irl friends finding Strange Love in my Drive open on my laptop while we were smoking together one night and sending it to all of our mutual friends. They made fun of me like I was in high school again and it triggered a bad, bad part of my past for me when someone in eighth grade found my fanfic I wrote about the popular kids at school and called me a freak for the rest of my junior high education. So naturally, I cut off Tumblr as a whole and lost the want or desire to write anything ever again.
Spring made it where I just isolated myself away from everything. The only time I would leave the house outside of work was to go see movies with my husband and eventually a trivia night with a new group of people.
In May, my husband went to the dog park with two dogs and came back with three. He had adopted a purebred year and a half year old siberian husky named Phog who we had met all of maybe 3 times at the dog park. We are his FIFTH home and his final one if we have anything to say about it.
I turned 30 the next month on June 26th and had a mental breakdown about my life track (which is apparently normal). In July, I started to attend a horror/mystery book club at the local library and started to read a ton of amazing books that were brilliantly written and it started to turn the wheels in my brain about plot lines again. When out at a comic shop with my brother and my husband, I saw a graphic novel copy of After and I honestly laughed. I laughed because for weeks I had been explaining to my husband about my emotions when I was reading After as a fangirl back in the day and I missed that feeling. I started to get the weird inkling that I wanted to try and write again. Someday.
Which brings us to Strange Love. I have plans to eventually finish it. I have it plotted to the point where Eddie and Y/N finally get together and with a lot of thought, it'll end there. You all deserve an ending to that before I try to move on from something else.
I'm going to make a conscious effort to be here and be present more. I'm going to answer all of my messages and anon messages before and during my shift at work tonight. Lastly, I want you all to know I love you so so much. I thought about a lot of you often and tried to wish the best vibes your way while I was away.
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oonajaeadira · 2 years
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Ok you ignore me if this is way too specific or doesn't mesh with your plan but I am here for PATS, an ask: you suffer an unexpected emotional day something bad and need an appointment, though he is booked he senses the urgency in your request and allows you to come much later than he should. You cant stay composed during the massage and he winds up letting you sleep past the timer. Again ignore at all. I awoke feeling sharp apparently.
Hello, love.
I've been thinking about this question a lot. Now, you weren't the only one to ask about an emotional day or sleeping past the timer. And then there were some other asks that I've been stewing over that started to bleed into my daydreams around this answer. (What happens if you miss an appointment? How would he react to the idea of you moving on? How does he treat a silly injury? Does he take tips, and what for?)
I hope you don't mind that your question became a magnet for so many variables.....
Sleeping Past the Timer After an Emotional Week (GTTT PATS)
FANDOM: Calls - Apple TV (PATS is a character from ep. 3. “Pedro Across the Street.” This is not RPF.)
Warnings: smut under the cut
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It’s not like you to be late. And half an hour isn’t just late, it’s worryingly absent, especially without a message. Were you another client, he might be irritated. Or maybe he’d just turn off the porch light and enjoy his unexpected free evening with a jack-off session or two, a good stout, and some mindless TV. But it’s you and this is concerning. It isn’t right. He’s pretty certain by now that it would take something monumental to keep you away from your Thursday night appointment.
He checks the portal. Nothing.
After a purely performative moment of hesitation, he clicks through to his bookmarks and pulls up your social media.
Nothing much other than some shared articles (varying subjects, all posted without comment) and one vaguepost about “not being made for this bullshit.” It is this post that captures his attention and he focuses on it for a moment. Something’s going on.
The street outside his house where you normally park your car is empty, but he can feel himself getting hard, like a part of him knows what it should be doing right now. Instead of taking care of that, he’s gonna put it on hold, just in case, making one last ditch effort by sending a message through the portal.
“Just checking in. Not like you to miss an appointment. Let me know if you need to reschedule.”
An hour goes by. Two. He sits, hands off, half-hard, passively watching some documentary on octopuses and has to switch it over to the local college game when they get to the section on mating.
It’s not often that he leaves his laptop open while logged into the portal, so he’s surprised when he hears an unfamiliar notification–the live chat function.
–I’m so sorry! Omg this week has been hell and i didn’t even realize it was thursday I’m so so sorry pedro. It’s probably for the best. Not in the best mood. I won’t be late next week i promise. I will probably need you a lot by then
–Hey. Don’t worry about it. But if you’re that stressed, then you probably have a need to come by. You’re still welcome here tonight. We can get some of that out of you for tomorrow.
–Thank you so much but i can’t. I have a really early day. There’s been a lot of sudden changes at work and it’s been really rough. I’m so sorry
–Are you working late tomorrow? Do you have plans?
–No thankfully just me and a bottle of wine and a weekend ahead i’ll need it
–If you want a rain check, I have an opening tomorrow night.
–Really?
–Of course. Come by at 7. Let’s make you feel better.
He begins palming himself through his jeans, anxious to confirm and get this ache over with.
–I’ll be there thank you
With one hand, he punches in an appointment confirmation into your profile while the other works at his belt and zipper. No need to leave things marinating tonight. Looks like he’s cooking alone. And he’s starving.
He'll cancel his Friday night plans in a few minutes.
________________
He has to breathe through disrobing you, try not to rush it, savor the unwrapping. He knows how much you like it–the way you close your eyes, throw your head back and just give in to him, just gorgeous–and he usually enjoys it too but… Something in him is pushing to get to the point, make sure you never forget another appointment again.
It’s when he sees you wince as he lifts your arms over your head that his focus truly snaps back to the task at hand and his erection takes a back seat so his fingertips can slowly explore your shoulder. He manipulates your arm to get under the shoulder blade, presses in through your ribcage on one side, down to your hip, listening to you breathe, registering any hitches in your intake, until he lands on a spot midway and asks you in a smooth, calming rumble if it’s tender.
You nod, and your face begins to crumple. The tears come hard and heavy. Ashamed, you tell him you’ve been lifting boxes all week and it’s not really what you’re made for. Something about a merger, your business moving locations, your management expecting you to pack up your own office, tons of files, heavy boxes, running out of time, and in an effort to get it done faster, you’d pushed the capacity and weight of what you could lift…and this just happened today because you weren’t thinking, weren’t managing right, how stupid you feel.
“And the stress doesn’t help,” he breathes. The tears make little sparkling fairy tracks down your cheeks in the low light and you’re just on the edge of truly breaking when he presses himself against you, shushing into your neck. “We’re going to take care of it tonight, okay? We’ll work on it. Then I’m going to make you feel good. Fuck this week. You don’t have to work tomorrow, right? Breathe here…”
Your breath is brave, long and stuttering, he runs hands over your bared torso, indicating where he wants you to focus your breath. You shake your head and his length pulses against you. But otherwise he keeps it cool, calm, steady.
“Good. No rush then. Let’s just take our time and see if I–if we–can get this week out of you. Table. Face down.”
Your injury is first priority and he turns his back to the clock, making sure to concentrate on getting the muscle groups around the strain to relax. But you’re still clenched. Thoroughly oiling his hands, he just moves them over you in smooth, firm waves, reading you, mapping you. You’re holding onto something. Something about being here isn’t as relaxing as it should be.
“Is there something else going on, preciosa? Other than the move?”
“What?” The muscles in your back tighten.
“Your office. Moving.”
And they loosen again. “Oh.” There’s a long enough pause that a “no” would be an obvious lie.
He helps you to flip onto your back and settle, sliding his hands under your shoulders, using your weight to help press down into his fingers, tilting your head back. But this time you keep your eyes closed as you explain that the main office is moving several hours away and you need to make some decisions about your job, about keeping it, working remotely but dropping to part time, or following the move.
His fingers curl, rake hard against your shoulder blades, pulling greedily, almost as if he can drag you inside him.
“That’s a hard decision. What’s keeping you here?”
Your eyes float open, meeting his.
Everything external goes on autopilot. His hands keep working, wrapping beautifully around your spine and neck, smoothing them out, smoothing everything out, his face a perfect mask of clinical neutrality. But inside, he’s in a sudden fucking panic. He’s slipped there. Shouldn’t be asking questions he doesn’t want the answers to.
“I like it here.”
“Mmm.” He hears himself, neither affirming nor judgmental. Indifferent. Professional.
But he has to lay your head down gently and step away. To oil his hands again. He takes his time.
After that, no more questions, no more talking. He concentrates on making you feel elastic, relaxed, brand new, fingers exploring through every inch of flesh. Here too, he takes his time. Fuck the clock.
In the bed as well, time is taken. You’re so pliant for him, healed and wanting and so very very present. He can’t bear to take himself out of you, even to change positions, just keeps you to himself and tries not to wonder how many more sessions you might be around for.
You do that thing you sometimes do, wrap your arms around his neck, hold on tight, whisper in his ear to tell him how beautiful he is, insisting how ready he must be to come right when he’s fucking the hardest, right when he’s trying to hold on for dear life, and you just cut through and break his restraint, his body rebelling and choosing to listen to your voice instead of his own.
If you leave, you’ll take that power with you.
You haven’t fallen asleep this hard and fast since the first session. You’re dead to the world by the time he returns with a washcloth and you stay so while he gently cleans you up.
He sits on the bed a while and looks at anything but you, long enough to tell himself it’s okay to break another rule. Just for tonight. The clock says he’s indulged, he’s gotten more than his fair share. So he’ll give you your due. You’ve had a rough week, it’s the least he can do.
Is what he tells himself.
________________
When you wake, the room is strange.
Because you’ve never seen it in the daylight.
You bolt upright, eyes immediately going to the side table. The glass of water is there. The clipboard is there. He is not.
On top of your form, there’s a folded paper. A note waiting.
“You needed the rest. Thought since you didn’t have anything to rush to this morning, I’d let you have it. There’s cold press and cranberry juice in the fridge. Box on the counter’s got some stuff from the corner bakery. Have some. Orders. I’ll know if you don’t. Door will lock behind you. Have a better day.”
The tightness in your back from the week is gone. Completely obliterated. He really knows his stuff.
You uphold your end of the agreement and down the water, glancing at your assessment form.
“Regular time next week. I hope.”
________________
Once he hears the front door close and your car start and pull away, he emerges from his bedroom and moves through the treatment room, resetting the side table and stripping the bed before padding down to the laundry closet and throwing the sheets in to wash.
On his way back out through the kitchen he stops to assess the bakery box to learn which of the confections stole your fancy. Ah. He doesn’t exactly grin, but feels the corner of his mouth pull a little. That’s his favorite too.
There’s a folded piece of paper sticking out from under the box. His note to you.
You’ve written your own on the other side.
“I feel wonderful this morning. Thank you for breakfast and letting me sleep. And letting me cry and get it out. You always know exactly what I need. I know you don’t take tips, but please let me. I really appreciate it. I’ll see you next week for sure. I’m not going anywhere.”
You always know exactly what I need.
There’s a number of bills tucked into the fold.
A tip. Payment for a job well done. For going above and beyond the contract.
He stares at the money.
No, this is good, he tells himself. The cash feels grounding. Realistic. Correct.
Transactional.
It’s good.
But something won’t let him just put it in his wallet.
Instead, he folds it back up into the note. Grabs a pen. Scribbles one word on it and slides it into a drawer before getting on with his day.
“Perspective.”
___
___
NEXT (Full 10K one-shot)
SERIES MASTERLIST
422 notes · View notes
landinoandco · 3 years
Text
Our Love is a Game
Lando Norris x Reader
Request from @jamieeboulos
Warnings: pinch of fluff, cute ending because they are the best
Word count: 2.7 k
Requests are open :)
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It all started with a phone number, an innocent exchange that would subsequently change the world you knew; mostly for the better. When you had met Lando, as far as you were concerned you had just met a 21 year old who lived in London and had a passion for cars. How wrong you were. It was only when things started to get serious that he sat you down and explained everything that came with being a formula one driver; more importantly the fandom that he was involved in. 
You had always been a private person and admittedly this piece of information almost broke your relationship but after some time to think you had decided that he was worth it all. You both decided it was a better idea to keep your relationship as quiet as possible - you took every precaution to make sure you stayed a stranger to the fans.
For the past 2 years, you thought you had managed to stay clear of the cameras, the photos and the twitch streams but it wasn’t until a fan-made compilation caused your world to spiral out of control. 
You and Lando were out for a run, it was a part of your morning routine - a great way to start the day and it was time that you two could escape the motor sport world and act like a normal couple without worrying about who might be watching. It was time you both valued and appreciated. On this particular morning, Lando had decided to add to his Instagram story, a short video of his morning adventures - the mist still hanging around the trees as you ran under a heavily graffitied bridge, the early birds song chirping animatedly. At the time you didn’t think much of it as you were too busy tying your hair back up to notice. 
It wasn’t until you got home and looked at his story that your heart stopped, rushing over to the kitchen island you placed your phone down and ran your fingers through your hair. It was a blink and you’ll miss it moment but in the corner of his video - the last millisecond before it ended - there was a flash of a purple top (the purple top you had been wearing) and a swish of brown hair as you chucked it back up into a ponytail. 
“Lando.” You called out, trying to keep your voice as calm as you could. You didn’t know why it had affected you so much - or why you were so desperate to keep your identity a secret. It wasn’t like you wanted to hide your relationship; you were the happiest you ever had been, everyday was exciting and offered new prospects - it was more that you were so used to being in this bubble with Lando, the idea of it bursting seemed rather unappealing. Usually you didn’t care for how others saw you but seeing some of the words that people used to describe him, it would be enough to trouble even the thickest of skins. 
Lando’s close proximity broke your thoughts as he stared down at your phone, pausing on the flash of brown and purple. “I am so sorry, love.” He almost whispered, his eyes widening at his carelessness. He picked your phone up to take a closer look. 
“It will be alright, won’t it? I mean, it’s a blink and you’ll miss it.” You had said, more to reassure yourself than Lando. He didn’t answer, anxiety building in the pit of his stomach because he knew exactly what he had started. 
The fan-made compilation didn’t go viral until a few hours later - as it turns out that flash of purple was the perfect cherry on top of an unappetising cake. Lando was sat on stream - not that this was out of the ordinary and Max had decided to join him, leaving you alone to rewatch Friends for the umpteenth time. 
The pair were sat reacting to videos on YouTube when a clip of a seal swimming into a shoal of fish started playing - the amusing part was that they kept quickly dispersing away from the seal in question. Unsurprisingly, they laughed and Lando spluttered: “This is me trying to find a girlfriend.” What the fans didn’t know was the apparent irony of that sentence and this was what caused the major meltdown; whilst Lando and Max were busy crying with laughter - that chat had filled up with the same link and references to the video you would be redirected through. 
Max was the first to stop laughing, tapping Lando on the shoulder as he pointed at the chat. Hundreds of the same message filled the screen: “That’s not what this compilation shows.” “Lando, what are you hiding from us?” “Lando and Max laughing knowing very well he has a girlfriend.” 
“Chat what on earth are you waffling on about.” Max chuckled uneasily, looking at Lando out of the corner of his eye. Lando sat with a forced smile, his nostrils flaring as he continued through the comments. He could only let out a tense laugh as he swallowed thickly - his throat feeling suddenly dry. You were still sitting, completely engrossed and unaware that Lando Norris was now trending on twitter. 
Max had come up with an excuse to end the stream not long after, Lando uncharacteristically quiet. His thoughts were with you in the other room, had you seen it? Did you know? How would you react? He felt as though he had lost all control, like he had failed you entirely - all he wanted to do was protect you yet he was the one to screw it up. 
“Hey,” Max nudged his shoulder, “It was bound to happen at some point. Let’s go and see if she’s seen it - if not then -” He took a deep breath, “We will watch it together. We need to know what we are working with here.” Lando nodded, unable to reply, his body went into automatic pilot mode and too quickly he was standing facing you. 
Pausing the tv, you looked at Lando - his jaw tightened and facial expressions set as though he had just seen a ghost. “Is everything ok?” You asked apprehensively. 
“There’s something you need to see.” Max reached for his phone, pushing Lando onto the sofa. You offered your arm to Lando, pulling him into a hug. Max pulled up the video and pressed play. A tense atmosphere held the room hostage - breath restricted and gazes fixed onto the tiny screen in front of you. 
It started with a clip from this year’s Goodwood - Lando preparing to drive his last hill climb - you remembered it well, a McLaren hat placed on your head mainly to cover your identity; knowing that there would be more than a few fans around. The clip moved to 3 separate stills - all of you in your McLaren hat. One with your back to the camera, you hand placed around Lando’s waist, the other two a side profile as you spoke to Max. 
The reaction was immediate, you slapped your hand to your mouth, Lando looked horror-struck and Max was watching you carefully. 
The video moved on, this time a clip from the quadrant video where Niran trains like Lando for 24 hours - Lando and Niran were in the kitchen preparing to eat their breakfast when once again the video moved to stills. This time they were of your reflection in the oven - holding the camera. You had thought at the time, if you were behind the camera it would stop every chance of you accidentally being caught on camera. Apparently not. 
The video had moved on again, this time to stills of Lando arriving on track - of course there was no way for you to get on track without being photographed and you were fine with that because you would just arrive after Lando either with Jon or Charlotte. Photos of you arriving with Jon and Charlotte flashed up - with them you were just another member of staff but put with those other stills and it really did yell out that you and Lando were romantically involved. Finally the flash of purple from Lando’s story. The game was up. 
“Oh my-” You stuttered as the video came to an end. Fortunately your Instagram hadn’t been shown but judged by how skilled you knew the fans to be - it would only be a matter of time. “I feel sick.” You admitted, wiping your hands across your face. Lando still hadn’t said a word, staring blankly at the floor. Max was the first to come up with something logical, turning to you and Lando. 
“It will blow over.” He started, “The fans will soon lose interest and move onto the next big headline. We just need to ignore anything we see regarding the subject.” He moved his attention to you. “Maybe avoid social media for a few days. Let everyone cool down -” Sensing your means to interrupt, he held his hand up. “I know you shouldn’t have to and I know none of this is fair but unfortunately people have no boundaries and believe because it’s on social media it is their business. If they were in our situation, I’m pretty sure they would be the first to complain. Let’s just go along with it for now. It will give you time to think about what to do next.” 
Lando cleared his throat, pulling you closer into him. “I’ve failed you. All I wanted to do was protect you.” At this, Max got up and left. 
Shaking your head, you pressed your lips to his forehead. “You could never. Think about how long we kept it secret for. Besides, until we announce or admit anything - it isn’t confirmed.” You offered, trying to soothe his worries. He nodded, still not convinced. 
“Our love is like a game and it’s not a game I enjoy playing.” He croaked, lacing your fingers together. 
“I know, Lando, I know. Let’s let everything calm down and then we can think about what our next step is.” 
Weeks later and it was the night before you were due to leave for your summer holiday. You would be spending it with Lando and some of his friends and family. Due to the current pandemic, it had been so long since you had been away - even if it was a bigger group of you going; you were still looking forward to spending that quality time with Lando. 
Max had decided to take himself and Tom off to the streaming room - leaving you and Lando to sort out the remaining items you needed for your time away. 
“I have a present for you.” He said suddenly, his hands behind his back. You beamed, taking a step closer to him. He shook his head, “If you want it - “ He pointed at his lips. 
Rolling your eyes, you pecked his lips then held out your hands like a child. Lando chuckled, “Close your eyes.” Hands still outstretched and eyes closed, you waited for Lando to present you with your surprise. He grasped your left wrist and attached something to it - “No peeking.” He added. A moment or two later, he dropped his hold of your wrist and said: “You can open them now.” You could hear the smile on his lips. You opened your eyes and looked straight to your wrist - he had given you a pink watch. You furrowed your eyebrows and looked up at him, his eyes twinkled as he then pointed to the orange watch on his wrist. 
“Watches?” You asked, confusion laced your tone. 
Nodding, he said, “We all have matching watches but in different colours - they are for our holiday away.” 
You gave him a lopsided grin and wrapped your arms around his neck, “I love it. Thank you.” 
In the streaming room, Max was having to ignore the majority of the comments because they were all asking the same thing: “Who was the girl from the compilation.” He was trying his hardest to keep moving off the topic, instead showing off the watches - it had been his idea, blue for him, orange for Lando, a child’s watch for Tom and a pink watch for you. He had listed off all of the colours and said who they belonged to: “And then pink-” He paused, mentally face palming. He looked over to Tom for assistance - he hadn’t meant to say pink at all. “And pink is for someone.” He cursed his poor excuse but as if by magic - Lando walked through the door. 
Distracting the stream from his slip up. 
Croatia was a dream come true, the hot summer sun on your back and the time to just relax and recharge. Days spent with Lando sunbathing on the boat or stuck in a tense game of Uno. Not being the only female was brilliant as well - as they got to go off and not feel guilty about leaving you on your own. 
Currently, you and Lando were standing in each other's arms - the afternoon drawing into the evening as the sun began to set. You had your arms around his neck and his arms were around your waist, sighing contentedly you broke the silence: “This is nice.” He pressed his lips into your hair, a sign that he agreed with your statement. In that moment, it was just you and him - everyone seemed to disappear from around you and all worries vanished. It was the simple yet affectionate moments that had always meant the most to you. You felt as though you could relax every muscle in your body, listening to his steady heartbeat - you wished for this moment to never end, to forever be in his arms and to not worry about who sees you there. 
Ever since that compilation had been made, the thought had been on your mind a lot. Were you ready to go public with Lando? At the end of the day you were both happy and surely that was the most important thing. 
Later that night, you were sitting eating your meal when a phone was handed to you, displayed on it was a picture of you and Lando - in each other’s arms. 
Instantly you knew what this meant, looking at Lando you were met with the same expression. He did as well. 
You and Lando had decided it was time to announce your relationship, there was no point sneaking around anymore if people knew and were looking out for you. You had agreed that the best way to do it was if you joined him in a stream, that way they got to know you a bit more for who you were. 
“Is it ok to feel as nervous as I am?” You asked him, pulling up a chair beside him. He was setting up the stream, two mugs of tea placed in front of you. It seemed completely unnatural to sit facing the camera. 
“I mean, this is kind of a big deal so yes I would say, it’s completely natural for you to feel nervous.” He reached for your hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of it. Nodding, you took a deep breath. 
“Ok. I’m ready.” You said, your heart beating at a million miles an hour. The corners of his lips turned up, leaning in to leave you a kiss on the lips. 
“I love you and I’m so proud of you.” He admitted quietly, as though you were the only person in the world, his eyes flickered with complete adoration. 
“I love you too. Now, shall we start it?” 
Lando went to press the start stream button but paused. He turned back to face you, his eyes wide and offered an apologetic smile. 
“What did you do?” You asked, a smile toying at your lips as you had an idea of what it might have been. 
“Stream, meet my girlfriend.” 
He had already started it...
325 notes · View notes
agustdakasuga · 3 years
Text
Reflection Of You | Chapter 3
Genre: Historical!AU, Timetraveller!AU/ Different Dimension, Romance
Pairing: SUGA x Reader, Yoongi x Reader
Characters: Normal!Reader, Idol!Suga, King!Yoongi, Guard!Seokjin, Guard!Jungkook, RoyalAdvisor!Namjoon, Servant!Jimin, Servant!Hoseok, Prince!Taehyung
Summary: Confirming you were dating the famous Min Suga of BTS, you knew you were bound to make some enemies. But what you didn’t expect was to be cursed, leading you to meet a cold-hearted, arrogant king that shares the same face as your rapper lover.  
Looks like you couldn’t deal with the negativity and the scary fans on your own. But you couldn’t bear to burden Yoongi further with it. 
Chapter warning(s): threatening words, death threats, name calling. Mentions of someone getting cursed through fantasy dark magic. Please do not take it seriously and only read at your own discretion.
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Ever since the news, things have been... eventful. Most of the ARMY seemed accepting and supportive, most. Some ARMYs have found your social media accounts and were spreading it around. While some of the messages were nice, there were still some threatening ones. 
“Have you told hyung?” Taehyung asked. You jumped, the phone slipping out of your hands and onto the floor. Taehyung had come to go through some music with Yoongi and they were working in the room the whole day. 
“You scared me, Tae.” You bent down to pick up the device, tucking it into your pocket. 
“So are you?” Taehyung blinked. 
“Tell him what? Exactly.” You sighed, continuing with your cleaning chores of the kitchen. Taehyung stopped you, gripping your wrist, it was obvious that he wasn’t going to let this go. 
“You need to tell him. He can do something, or tell the company to do something.” Taehyung said. 
“Thanks for your concern, Tae. But I can handle a few young girls without having to involve Yoongi. I don’t want him blaming himself again. It’s just social media, I don’t need it. Besides, this has probably caused a lot of trouble for the company already, I’m not about to add on more.” You said softly, not wanting Yoongi to hear. 
“These aren’t a few young girls, noona. They’re crazy, violent. They aren’t ARMY, you know that.” Taehyung insisted. 
“Whatever it is. It’s nothing dangerous. If things get worse, then I’ll tell Yoongi.” 
“Tell me what?” Yoongi appeared. He blinked when he saw Taehyung gripping your wrist, you and him having such a hushed conversation, that apparently wasn’t hushed enough. 
“Nothing.” You muttered and pulled your wrist away. 
“What did you do?” Yoongi’s eyebrows furrowed. Taehyung shook his head, going to the fridge to get a bottle of juice before leaving the kitchen. 
“I’m fine, Yoongi. Nothing’s wrong, don’t worry.” You smiled, knowing that Yoongi was still genuinely concerned for you. Drying your hands, you walked up to him and kissed the furrowed eyebrows with a smile. 
“Take a break. We can continue cleaning later.” Yoongi held your hand. 
“I’m almost done.” You shrugged. Yoongi sighed, giving in to you. His hands moved to hold your waist as he leaned down to give you a kiss on the cheek. Squeezing your waist once more, he poured himself a cold coffee from the fridge and left to continue working with Taehyung. 
“Where was I...?” You turned to finish your cleaning. When you were done with the kitchen, you busied yourself by vacuuming the floor and dusting the shelves until the house was spotless. 
“All done.” You smiled, happy with yourself. You sat down on the couch, looking back at your phone. 
‘Why would oppa go for someone ugly like you?’
‘We know you’re just using him, whore. ’
‘You think we won’t find you?’
‘If BTS loses popularity, it’s all your fault. If only you died.’
With that, you decided to deactivate all your social media. You deleted all the apps from your phone, willing yourself not to think about it. Even if you acted unaffected, a part of you was creeped out by just how much these people can find out about you. Luckily, you had no family that they could track down and hurt as revenge. 
RINGGGG
“Hello? Geumjae oppa?” It was rare but not odd for Yoongi’s older brother to be calling you. He owned a nice cafe in Daegu, being a chef. 
“Hey, (y/n). Is Yoongi busy?” 
“He’s in the home studio, working with Taehyung. He must have silenced his phone. What’s up? Can I take a message?” You went to retrieve a notepad and pen just in case. 
“Oh... Don’t worry. It isn’t important, I’ll just call him. My parents told me what happened, and I read about it in the news, how is everything on your end?” 
“Manageable.” You replied shortly. 
“I understand. Even as his brother, I get some threats sometimes. Don’t take them to heart, alright? If it gets too much, you have to tell Yoongi. So the company can take action. Still, you should be careful if you go out. Maybe have someone follow you for now.” 
“I will, thanks oppa. It’s a little shocking how they managed to find me so quickly. We’re just laying low now. I don’t want to unnecessarily stress Yoongi out even more.” You said. 
“You’re always putting others before yourself, (y/n) ah. Oh, looks like I have to go. I’ll see you two when you come to Daegu.” 
“You can count on it! I’ll see you, oppa.” You chuckled and hung up. Since you got a little sweaty and dirty from cleaning, you went to take a shower. 
When you came out, you saw Yoongi sitting on the couch, sipping whiskey. Taehyung didn’t seem to be around anymore, his shoes from the doorway were gone too. 
“Tae went back?” You asked. Yoongi just grunted in reply. 
“What’s wrong? Why are you mad?” You stood at the end of the couch, putting your hands on your hips. 
“How long were you going to keep me in the dark? About the fans finding your social media and harassing you, sending you death threats. Or how about that your boss had put you on indefinite period of leave.” Yoongi spoke. There was so many emotions in his voice, betrayal, sadness, anger, frustration. You sighed, looking away. 
“Who told you? Tae?” 
“Taehyung knows?!” Yoongi raised his voice. 
“That’s what we were discussing earlier... In the kitchen. He saw my phone. Unintentionally, of course. But if it wasn’t Tae who told you, then who?” You asked. 
“That’s all you care about? Well if you must know, Geumjae hyung just called me to tell me that some fans showed up at his cafe and he saw the comments on your social media before you deleted them. As for your job, your boss told me when I sent an official BigHit letter about the situation.” Yoongi explained. 
“Those comments are just nothing but words. And with the job, I can just find another one. I can handle it, Yoons. It’s no big deal.” You spoke calmly, quite the opposite of him. 
“Stop saying you can handle it, (y/n)! Stop saying it’s no big deal! I... Ugh...” He held onto his head in frustration. 
“Then what do you want me to say?” You closed your eyes to take a deep breath. 
“I know you’re doing this so I don’t feel guilty or whatever but you saying it’s no big deal makes me feel worse! It feels like I can’t even do a proper job of protecting my girlfriend, that she feels the need to hide from me just because she thinks that I can’t take it.” He hissed. Now you knew he was just saying things he didn’t mean.
“Yoongi, you know that’s not true.” You crossed your arms. 
“It sure feels that way.” He replied. You bit your lip. knowing that speaking to him when he was in this state wouldn’t help the both of you. You would just end up losing your cool and screaming at him too. 
“Goodnight, Yoongi.” You turned around and went to the room. Before you closed the door, you heard the door to Yoongi’s studio slam shut. 
“Just great.” You sighed. After drying your hair, you put your moisturiser on and got ready for bed. 
In time like these, you just needed to give him space. It was known that Yoongi didn’t express emotions well so he often said things in a fit of anger but he really doesn’t mean it. 
3 am...
You hadn’t been able to sleep so you settled for a book that both Namjoon and Yoongi had recommended. The bedroom door slowly crept open. Yoongi stood there, teary eyed and red nosed. He looked at you with a slightly blank stare. You closed your book, standing from the bed to hug him. 
“I... I...” His whole body shook. 
“I can’t just sit... and wait for that dreaded call... that something happened to you. I can’t, (y/n). I’ll go crazy. I’m so f*cking scared.” He shook his head. You knew Yoongi was paranoid, he was always worrying about something. 
“It’ll be okay, Yoongi. You’re scaring yourself.” You said softly. 
“I can’t let you go.” 
“No one says you have to. I’ll always be right here, Yoons. It’ll take a lot for anyone to drive a wedge between us, I promise you.” You kissed his temple. 
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I know I should trust you more and shouldn’t have made you feel weak or useless. It’s just, I’m scared too. This is all new to me.” You continued. 
“We’ll get through this together.” He cupped your cheeks in his hands. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips against yours. You grabbed a tissue from your nightstand, gently wiping his eyes and nose. Yoongi stood still, sniffling ever so often. You threw the tissues away and laid with him. If possible, Yoongi held you closer to him than any other night. 
“Tell me about what you’re working on.” You changed the subject. Yoongi was always in the mood to talk about music. 
“Tae’s mixtape looks like it’s coming along well, he has come very far in terms of putting his own music together. I’m gonna start working on the songs I promised Jimin and Jin hyung. ” Yoongi said. 
“That sounds awesome.” You said encouragingly. 
“Really? It seems that all I talk about is music. I’m even using my break to work on it.” Yoongi scoffed at himself. 
“It’s your break, Yoons. You can do whatever you want with it. And I never get tired of listening to you talk about your work. You just sound so proud and confident when you do.” You confessed, blushing. 
“Are you blushing?!” Yoongi’s eyes widened. 
“Whaaaaaaat? I’m allowed to blush over my boyfriend. Geez. I didn’t think I would be confessing all my inner thoughts today.” You cleared your throat. Yoongi let out a soundless laugh, showing his genuine gummy smile, the one that you just love so much. 
“You’re too cute, aegi.” Yoongi stroked your hair. 
“Stop embarrassing me. I’m supposed to be the one to tease you, not the other way around.” You scrunched your nose, pulling away from his embrace to hide under the blanket.
“Okay okay, I’ll stop. Can you come out, please? I want to cuddle my girl as I sleep.” Yoongi persuaded. You slowly removed the blanket, letting Yoongi tuck you into the crook of his neck comfortably. 
-
As you and Yoongi were getting ready to head to Daegu, Yoongi was told to pick up his fan gifts from BigHit. All fan gifts are sent to BigHit for security checks before the boys can collect them and open them at home. Yoongi drove one of BigHit’s borrowed cars, which is a Hyundai SUV, considering they were the brand ambassadors. 
“Ready?” Yoongi asked, adjusting his bucket hat. 
“Yeah.” You pulled your mask up, carrying two cups of iced coffee. You handed one to Yoongi while you locked the front door. After that, Yoongi used his free hand to hold yours. 
“Should we have asked Sejin oppa to drive us?” You asked as Yoongi unlocked the car doors. 
“This car was checked and approved by BigHit. The windows are also tinted so they wouldn’t know it’s us. And we use the back entrance.” Yoongi informed. 
“Alright.” You got in. As you closed the door, Yoongi grabbed your hand, kissing the back of it. You smiled at him as he started the engine. You played music from your phone, ready to jam with him like you always do. 
“Ready?” He turned to you. You nodded and he drove out. 
“Now for a throwback.” You announced as you played ‘No More Dream’, much to Yoongi’s annoyance. You would play old BTS songs from time to time just to mess with him. 
“Aegi, please.” He groaned. 
“I want a big house, big cars and big rings.” You were too busy rapping his part to hear him. Yoongi burst out laughing, you rapping, especially to his songs, never failed to make him laugh. You were even throwing hand signs like he would do. 
“If you can’t beat them, join them.” Yoongi shook his head, joining you in the song. He took the vocal parts while you took the rapping parts. Hearing Yoongi try to reach high notes killed you. 
“To all the youngsters out there without dreams.” The two of you said Namjoon’s ending line together. 
“I can’t even believe we had fans back then.” Yoongi chuckled. 
“Hey, don’t shun the ARMY. They’ll love you no matter the era.” You scoffed with your arms crossed. You remember how Yoongi would come in after practice, looking so tired but still diligently picking out CDs to buy. 
“I remember you bringing me your first album.” You reminisced with a small smile. Yoongi cringed. 
“Ugh, don’t remind me.” 
“Why? You were so cute and nervous. I think that was when I started to develop feelings for you.” You giggled. Yoongi had burst into the store, presenting you the signed album with a deep bow. He had turned so red and was so flustered that he spoke with a stutter. You found it adorable but what made your heart swell was the personal note Yoongi wrote for you. 
“That’s when you had feelings for me?! Then why did I wait like 4 years to ask you out?!” Yoongi screeched in outrage. You just shrugged. 
“At that time, you and the others were so unsure of where your careers would lead you, who knew what the future held. Starting a relationship wouldn’t have been the smart thing to do.” You explained lightly. 
“Still, I could have had you by my side.” He grumbled. 
“Whether I was your girlfriend or not, I would have always been by your side, Yoon. For you and the others.” 
“Yeah but I would have preferred if you were by my side, as my girl.” He scoffed and you reached over to stroke his cheek lightly, not wanting to distract him from driving too much. 
“But here we are. I don’t think waiting a few years has changed my feelings for you. Things happen for a reason.” You smiled. 
“You and your philosophies... You know, you’re starting to sound a lot like Namjoon and I’m not sure how I feel about that.” He teased. You shook your head and rolled your eyes. As Yoongi drove past the front of BigHit, there were a few girls sitting on the floor. 
“Don’t look.” Yoongi said, not even having to turn to you. But it was too late, you saw all the words of hate and anger directed towards you, Yoongi and the rest of Bangtan. 
“I told you not to look.” Yoongi said softly. 
“It’s inevitable...” You looked down at your lap. You hated that the rest of the boys were also getting the heat for this, they didn’t deserve it. 
“Mr Min.” The security guard greeted as Yoongi rolled the window down. He opened the barrier for Yoongi to drive in. He entered the private, underground carpark to the BigHit building. He backed into his parking space.
“Hey, it’ll pass. Remember?” Yoongi held your chin and leaned in to give you a comforting kiss. You gave a small smile, wrapping your arms around his neck to hug him.
“Let’s do this quickly. Then we’ll go home.” He said. You hummed in agreement, exiting the car with him. 
“Hey.” Yoongi greeted the stuff with a bow and you followed suit. 
“It’s in the conference room.” He told you as the two of you took the lift up. Yoongi held your hand the entire time. You went into the empty conference room to see a stack of gifts there. What surprised you was that there was a small stack with your name labelled on them. You blinked, turning to Yoongi, who just shrugged. 
“They’re checked for dangerous items. So go ahead.” He encouraged. You opened the first box, seeing a stuffed black cat that was dressed similarly to Yoongi. You giggled, shoving it into Yoongi’s face. 
“It’s you. Lil meow meow.” 
“Whatever makes you happy, aegi.” Yoongi rolled his eyes and looked through some of his gifts. There were nice, heartwarming letters in most of the boxes. 
“Aww, look.” There was a nice fanart of a faceless girl playing with a black kitten, presumably Yoongi. It was done so nicely with watercolour, you couldn’t wait to display it. 
“That’s you.” You pointed to the kitten that was rolled in yarn. 
“Wow, I didn’t even think of that.” Yoongi said sarcastically. You slapped his arm. He read some letters while waiting for you.
“What?” You opened a box to see some few odd objects inside, not something one would give as a gift. There was also a tarot card inside, The Devil. There was no letter inside at all. It creeped you out slightly but it wasn’t particularly threatening so you just closed the box. 
“What’s that?” Yoongi asked. 
“Some nice notes put together.” You lied with a smile. 
“Let’s go home and open the rest of these.” You told him. Yoongi nodded, placing the gifts onto the trolley that was provided and pushing it back down to the carpark. 
“Min Yoongi!” Someone called out just as you reached the carpark. The both of you looked up but your reaction was too late. 
“Ah!” Your first instinct was to protect your face, causing the blade to slash your arm. You crumbled slightly, face scrunching in slight pain as blood began to seep out. Yoongi’s eyes widened in horror.
“Aegi!” Yoongi was in shock. Before he could pull you behind him, you felt yourself fall to the ground, a sudden weakness taking over your system. 
“Yah! What did you do?!” Yoongi screamed at this intruder. 
“If I can’t have Yoongi, no one can.” She smiled as she met eyes with you. You laid on the ground, shivering. Your vision blurred horribly and you felt light headed. Was that what the box was earlier? Witchcraft? Does witchcraft still exist or does it even work? Yoongi called out to you but he felt so distant even as he hovered over you. 
“Time to disappear.” She grinned and clapped her hands. 
“Aegi! (y/n)! Can you hear me?!” Yoongi shook you. 
“Yoon-” Your vision faded to black. 
~~
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hannie-dul-set · 3 years
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“i'll take your word for it and no one else's.” [lee jeno]
SUMMARY | maybe snooping through your friend’s phone wasn’t that much of a good idea. or maybe it was. either way, you didn’t regret it. PAIRING | lee jeno x reader GENRE | friends to something, fluff, lots of bickering JHDFJ WARNINGS | swearing, invasion of privacy (LMAO idk) WORD COUNT | 2.1k TAGLIST | @danishmiilk​ @lucyinthesunshinee​ @sehunniepot​ @nct-writers​ @czennienet​ @neowritingsnet​
a/n: i didn’t think i’d turn another one of my dreams into a fic, but here we are HAHHAHA i tweaked a few bits and pieces to make it work (setting + added some dialogue + changed the ending because i WOKE UP before it could finish hmph) but please enjoy this unscheduled fic!! <3
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early summer afternoons were warm.
bright rays of the sun were showering on your skin as you lounged on the park bench, hot enough to make you feel the season but not too hot to singe your skin. it was the perfect weather to waste the day outside, and your younger brother and cousin decided to haul you outside so they can play basketball at the park.
but you didn't know why your friend jeno decided to come along.
"your brother messaged me," he grinned at you, plopping down beside you with a long, refreshed sigh. a towel was slung around his neck and he used it to wipe the sweat on his face. "what? why are you staring at me like that?"
"since when were you close with my brother?"
"am i not allowed to be friends with the little guy?" he joked, but apparently he took the unamused look on your face completely the wrong way. "oh my god, are you afraid that he'll take all my attention away from you?" to further tease, he brought his smug face closer to yours that was dumbfounded in shock, his stupidly irritating smile moving in closer.
sometimes you wondered if this was the same boy who helped you cross the street the first time you met.
but you loved him nonetheless.
"like hell i want your attention," you sneered, lightly shoving him away with a glare. he only laughed at your display of annoyance. "go back to playing with the kids or something, you goof."
the never leaving grin in his face seemed brighter against the sun, and he playfully ruffled your hair before running off to disappear into the court.
"as you wish, m'lady."
you let out a huff of air, rolling your eyes as your cheeks were involuntary tugged upwards, prompting a smile to form on your lips. you brought your hands to your hair, fixing the mess that jeno left with, and your gaze landed on the phone he left beside you. the screen flashed on. someone was calling him.
brows knitted together, you picked up the ringing phone, unable to recognize the caller id. you brought the device to your ear, standing up walking towards the court— you figured that you'd just answer whoever that was now and just pass it on to jeno once he was at reach.
"hello?"
"oh, hello there!" there was a pause from the caller "is lee jeno around, miss? would you mind giving the phone to him?"
the voice was that of a middle aged woman's, but it wasn't someone that you recognized. you assumed it was a relative of his or something because you'd know that this was his mom if it were her. "ah, give me a moment! i'll just look for him."
your feet stopped at the edge of the court, the sound of a ball bouncing into the concrete jarring against your ears. not bothering to look at the scene in front if you, you covered the mic with your hand before deciding to shout.
"jeno! someone's calling you!"
there was no usual prompt answer from your friend.
"he's not here!"
the loud voice of your brother answered instead, causing you to narrow your eyes into the court scene with a tinge of confusion masking your expression. there was indeed no mop of blue hair within the area, and you were only confused even further.
"where did he— aish, nevermind."
scratching your head, you swiveled your heels and decided to just head back to the bench. "hi, sorry. i'm not sure where he is right now. so if it's fine with you, can you call him again later? or maybe i could just tell him to call you back when he returns?"
"oh, then can you just relay this to him? it won't take that long, i promise."
you inwardly sighed, but agreed nevertheless. oh, you were definitely gonna ask him to treat you and the kids dinner later. why the fuck did he just disappear like that? now you were responsible for memorizing whatever this woman was telling you (apparently it was about an architecture summer program he was interested in— the lady was a head from his department and she was just calling to tell him that he was accepted. she says she'll be forwarding more details later through text).
"alright, thank you! i'll be sure to inform him when he gets back."
the call ended, and you groaned. you were about to close the phone, but then all of a sudden a notification appeared with a quiet ding!
[haechan 🌟 liked your retweet.]
ding!
[ohhh shit why do i feel like i know who this is.]
"huh."
you knew that you shouldn't be snooping inside your friend's phone. you knew that you shouldn't be invading his privacy no matter how enticingly juicy the bait was. you knew that it was flat out wrong. but—
"ah, just a peek," you clicked on the notification. "payback for making me deal with his stuff."
a hint of excitement rushed through you. jeno never told you his twitter. actually, you didn't even know he had one. he was always buried with studies, sports, and friends so you didn't expect him to keep up with social media— this fact enough was surprising, but the moment the screen finally loaded the tweet
you were even more surprised than you were a few seconds ago.
[@markly tweeted: "it's kind of funny how sometimes we just meet random people at the most random of moments and you don't expect it but they just end up sticking by your side until now"]
[@leejeno quoted: "yeah. a few years back, i saw this girl while i was walking. it wasn't the usual path that i took to school. i saw her having trouble crossing the street because there was a dog hanging around (she's scared of them) so i decided to help her. she couldn't even look at my face back then out of embarrassment but earlier we were calling until four in the morning. if i took a different path that day or if i didn't help her, i don't know how i'd be like right now because she's become one of the most important people in my life."]
your heart skipped a beat. two beats. three. it was running a mile a minute and you could barely even breathe to catch up.
[@do0 replied: how are you two right now?]
[@leejeno replied: "we're good haha. i'm going with her and her brother to the park later. we're still really good friends.]
[@leejeno replied: but i'm not sure if i want things to stop there."]
"hey, sorry for running off there. i went to get some— whoa. whats up?"
oh my fucking god.
you shot up, eyes wide, and you automatically turned off the phone. broken stutters left your lips, as the leaping of your heart to your throat prevented you from saying even a semblance of a coherent sentence. all you could think of when you met his worried gaze, the way he rushed to your side to check on you, was the last thing you read. your grip on his phone tightened.
but i'm not sure if i want things to stop there
you were gonna fucking lose it.
"hey, are you okay?"
quick, gentle hands landed on your cheeks, fingers brushing against your skin like a match igniting a flame. you nearly got lost and tongue-tied all over again, but you quickly slapped his hands away in a scolding fit. "jesus christ, i'm fine. you just surprised me. are you a ghost or something?" you glared at jeno, but it only lasted one second because you couldn't bear to look at him without your insides going crazy. because of that, your eyes flicked to the plastic bag he dropped onto the bench. he brought you something to eat.
"a-and before you ask—" you defended yourself indignantly when he didn't even accuse you of anything. "i wasn't snooping. the school called. it was about your summer program. you got in."
"oh? they called already?" you nodded. "ah, let's talk while walking— the kids are mad because i only got you food. they're asking me to buy the entire store for them to compensate," he released an airy laugh. you mentally scolded yourself.
keep it cool. you repeated the mantra inside your head as you strided beside jeno, your brother and cousin racing ahead of you. street lights were lighting up and the sky was fading into the night. cool cool cool cool cool. keep it cool.
the walk to the store felt way too gruelling than it normally would. it wasn't even that far. you told jeno everything the lady had told you, including the more detailed texts that she'd be sending later on. you thought that he'd be a lot more excited after hearing— he was interested, after all. but to you, he just seemed dismissive. "should i go?" he mindlessly asked.
"what are you talking about?" your brows furrowed. "yeah, of course. you wanted to, right?"
"but it's gonna last an entire month this summer," he yawed, stretching out his arms and hooking you by the neck, causing you to halt and stumble into him. you held back a squeak, and he looked at you, eyes gleaming with curious anticipation. a car sped by. "you still want me to go?"
those damned words that you read echoed inside your head again. you wondered if it resonated into the fucking nerves of your heart, as well.
"i—i mean," you stammered. "it's only one month. and it would also help you a lot in the future, right? you'd make a lot of connections during the camp. so yeah, i do want you to go."
he blinked at you. a hum sounded from his closed lips. he let go of you and resumed walking. you gaped when he left you behind.
was this karma?
"hey, what the hell?" quickly, you caught up to him, grabbing onto the sleeve of his shirt so that you could hang on to him. "why are you being sulky? i didn't do anything wrong!" technically you did do something wrong, but he didn't have to know that.
"you said you wanted me to go."
"you're a baby," you scrunched your nose is disapproval. "i only said that because you said you wanted to go."
jeno abruptly stopped. maybe you were causing a scene in front of all the passersby, but you really didn't give a fuck anymore when your head was in a looped up mess. all thanks to your extremely difficult friend who apparently doesn't want to just be your friend. you swore that he was driving you insane on purpose.
he pulled out his phone and faced the screen to you. your sweat dropped.
[@leejeno replied: but i'm not sure if i want things to stop there."]
"even after reading this," he started. "you still want me to go?"
"w-well."
he just had to be so fucking sharp. well, you weren't exactly slick either. maybe he saw a glimpse of the screen before you got to turn it off earlier. heat started to rise from your neck into your face, a grinding mixture of embarrassment and desire to be hit by a moving truck afflicting your nerves. why were you the one suffering? shouldn't it be him?
"no."
he hummed, turning off his phone and shoving the device into his pocket. arms crossed, he leaned in to your face, bearing a look of feigned innocence. "but you said i'd make a lot of useful connections."
"you can make those anywhere."
"and it's only a month, right?"
"that's thirty days too long."
"and—"
"oh, come on!" you exclaimed, balling your fists in vexation. another car sped by with an accompanied honk. jeno simply wore a look of faint amusement at your little outburst. "i don't want you to join your stupid summer program. happy now?"
"well, if you say so."
you stared at him. he patted your head, eyes disappearing into a pair of crescents with a smile.
"i'll take your word for it and no one else's."
you were left frozen and dumbfounded in the middle of the sidewalk as jeno brazenly spun his heels to chase after the runaway kids that went before you— literally leaving you behind. letting a curse slip past your breath, you also went after them. he was definitely driving you insane on purpose.
sometimes you wondered if this was the same boy who helped you cross the street the first time you met.
this was one of those times.
"you said you weren't gonna go, you asshole!"
"payback for snooping through my phone!"
but you could still love him nonetheless.
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© hannie-dul-set, 2020.
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itsonlystrange · 3 years
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Okay I’m just saying..do you guys realize what a cultural reset canon byler would be?
Like it would trend on Twitter, 100%. People who have never seen the show before would become interested in it, ESPECIALLY people who are looking for queer representation in shows.
Byler is a good slow burn that’s INTERESTING. It’s not your stereotypical gay guys who obviously like eachother and are only there for comic relief and pushed to the back so that the het ships can get the spotlight. It has DEVELOPMENT. And it’s rare you come across stuff like that.
Neither mike nor will are stereotypically “gay”. They are just regular teenage boys who happen to not be straight. Usually gay ships portrayed in TV and Film are used as comedic relief. Or the overly flamboyant gay guy and the super macho gay guy getting together in the last 10 seconds the show.
Yes, there are a TON of good shows out there that have queer representation however a LOT of them get thrown under the radar or are overshadowed by the more heterosexual ships or shows.
So imagine, a show as big as stranger things, having its two boys be in a canon relationship. Like the internet would BLOW UP. It’d be the topic of every interview. Finn and Noah would be the topic of every interview. Stranger Things would have relevancy again.
Obviously, ST is still relevant however with this whole hiatus it’s falling off the radar easily and people are becoming bored. But this...this would blow it up again.
Obviously queer ships are NOT there to make a show relevant again, at all. That’s not what I’m saying. What I’m saying is, imagine all the lgbtq+ kids that watch ST. The lgbtq+ BOYS that watch ST.
Often, when queer relationships are portrayed in film or television, it isn’t portrayed accurately. And it’s often shown as “if you don’t come out this way then you’re invalid.” Or “if you have internalized homophobia you’re invalid” and a thousand other things. Hell, I remember being much younger absolutely hating myself or not “picking a side” and being so confused with my self and wondering why I was even bisexual in the first place.
But then you have byler, which portrays a much more accurate relationship between two closer than normal boys. It portrays the internalized homophobia, the abuse and bullying people back in the 80’s (and still now) would endure. And yeah, it’s not the most accurate depiction but it’s FAR better than some other popular show’s queer relationships.
Millions of people watch this show, an abundance of them being lgbtq+. And imagine them having a ship to look up to. A ship that doesn’t portray gay relationships as a “joke”. And even better, Mike and Will are teenagers!!
Often, in film and television, queer ships are usually based around two adults. In fact, a lot of times they portray young teenagers being in a gay relationship as “gross.” They say that it’s too “mature”. That having a partner that’s the same gender as you is wrong, and that you need to be a little bit “older” because apparently being in a queer relationship is only for adults because queer relationships are just too “inappropriate.”
But then you have Mike and Will who are two 14 year old boys. Who aren’t stereotypically “gay” as the movies portray. They’re just normal teenage boys. And that��s how it SHOULD be portrayed. We need to stop portraying Lgbtq+ ships as “inappropriate” or “weird”. They’re just two teenage boys in love.
Remember when everyone found out Robin was lesbian after being straight baited? Yeah. The internet blew up. So take that and times it by ten thousand. That would be canon byler.
It’d be a huge step for the media. Unfortunately, we haven’t come that far with queer ships. It’s gotten better but there’s still a lot of steps to take. But having a huge show like stranger things have their two man boys be in a canon relationship and have it portrayed regularly, guys!! That would be huge!!
Imagine all the little kids getting to grow up with that. Or all the teenagers that are Mike and Will’s age struggling with their sexuality seeing these two boys who aren’t stereotypically anything be canonically in love. Like, that would be huge.
I know that if I grew up with a canon byler I would definitely have felt a lot more sure of my sexuality earlier on. So many kids would have a wonderful ship to look up to that isn’t fetishized or treated like it’s “weird.”
And the fact that it’d be the topic of every interview. Noah and Finn wouldn’t see the end of it. People would talk about it non stop. It’d be advertised on social media accounts, the duffers would talk about it, the stranger writers would talk about it. I mean, it’d be big!!
And yeah, it’s sad that a gay ship becoming canon would be revolutionary, but that’s just how the world is. We still haven’t progressed past that yet. And it’ll take awhile before having a gay shop isn’t a big thing.
I often see people say “if byler became canon then everybody would stop watching” which just ISN’T true.
They’d gain so many viewers. It’d be more popular than Mileven ever had been. Yes, Mileven has their cute moments, however at the end of the day, Milevens dynamic has been done before. Thats not to say bylers hasn’t, obviously a canon byler wouldn’t be the first. But it’d be the first big canon queer ship in awhile. Straight ships with mileven’s dynamic happen all the time.
And at the end of the day, ST isn’t a romance show. If Mileven didn’t end up being end game I don’t think many people would care. It wouldn’t be as big as people say it is. I feel like the fandom likes to think that Mileven rakes in all the money but that simply isn’t true. It’s a science fiction show at its core and the core viewers don’t watch for romance. If Mileven is what raked in all their viewers then season 2 wouldn’t have been as successful as it was, considering mike and el don’t even interact until the last episode of season 2. So I really think the fandom is just overreacting on that part. Yeah, people are gonna leave the fandom. Just how people left when stancy wasn’t endgame or when their favorite chatacter died or when something happened that they didn’t like. That’s just how life works. They’re gonna lose viewers regardless of what happens because not everyone will be happy with how season four plays out. But at the end of the day, it’s hot like ST is going to lose 25 million viewers because two 14 year olds weren’t endgame. It’s often easy to forget that the fandom doesn’t reflect ST’s viewership. The fandom takes up only a small percentage OF their viewership. So yeah, some fan accounts may deactivate, just like how a lot of bylers left the fandom after season 3. But it’s not like nobody’s going to watch the show, that’s absurd. Mileven isn’t their main cash cow. It isn’t even on the leader board of st’s main cash cows. If anything, Steve dying would make st lose more viewers than Mileven not being end game. And it’s been made more clear recently that a lot of people prefer Jopper over Mileven, especially with the ending of season 3. We gotta remember that, the FANDOM is mainly teenagers however stranger things main demographic and viewership is ADULTS. And I don’t see many 21+ year olds not watching the show because a ship almost 10 years younger than them wasnt end game. Most of st’s viewers don’t care about the romance
TLDR: canon byler would be huge for stranger things and would probably blow up the internet. It’d also be good commercially and financially for stranger things. Also having byler he canon would be so helpful to all the kids and teens and even adults out their struggling with their sexuality and would make so many lgbtq+ kids, teens, and adults feel seen and feel loved and feel validated. Over all, canon byler would do more GOOD then bad.
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potteresque-ire · 3 years
Note
Concerning the incredibly far and deep reach of CCP’s propaganda, the narratives the government can spin and call the truth; does ‘the common normal populace’ actually know what’s really going on?
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Hello everyone!!! Happy Chinese New Year!!
I’m grouping these asks because if I hear them correctly, they’re all related to this question: how much do people in China know about the atrocities committed by their government, and why don’t they do something about it?
It’s a difficult question, isn’t it? A potentially upsetting one too, just to think about. My answers are more opinion-based, more personal this time. Since there’re no polls about what people know, they have to be based a little more on my own impression, which has more chances of error. Please bear with me and proceed with caution ...
As with people in most countries, what people know is hugely dependent on individuals. Specifically, re: politics, I can think of at least three reasons why people don’t have the facts
1) they have limited access to information 2) they’re being lied to about what they know 3) they’re not interested in current affairs.
1), of course, is what most people think about when it comes to China. You’re right, Anon(s), that VPN use is indeed rampant in the country and is essentially an open secret; there’re no official numbers but surveys have estimated the number of users can be up to 100 million, most of them being youngsters. They use it to do exactly what most of us would imagine: gain access to things they don’t have otherwise. Instagram has been (sporadically?) blocked since 2014 September and so while users may have set up their accounts while being overseas, it’s indeed, (very) possible, that they’ve set up and maintained their account under VPN use.
Wait, you may ask, so you mean the Great Firewall of China doesn’t exist?
That’s exactly the official stance. Not because of private VPN use, but because individuals/companies can apply for a license via their telecommunications company to visit all internet sites. Hence, the government’s claim that the Great Firewall doesn’t exist—you’ll be let through as long as you ask (and we’ll watch your every step)! There are also no explicit laws prohibiting the use of private VPNs; only a handful of arrests associated with private VPN use have been made and only since 2019, and the punishment is considered light—no imprisonment, just fines. It is, in contrast, against the law to *provide* private VPN services, and while companies have been shut down, the crackdown has still been incredibly sluggish by Chinese government’s standards, especially when the Xi regime has made its intention of banning VPN known and directives have been issued for that in 2017.
Why has VPN continued to enjoy this “grey existence”? Because without VPN, a lot of foreign businesses would leave—some, for example, require the most efficient online tools developed outside China to track the foreign markets, and talents have rejected job offers in the country when they realised they couldn’t get on their favourite social media. The science and tech sectors also rely heavily on VPN—programmers relying on Google to search stackoverflow, for example, to find known solutions to bugs. 
VPNs have also served political purposes—Hong Kong, Taiwan, and Chinese Communist Party (CCP)-critical communities all over the world are all painfully aware of the Chinese government’s practice of hiring its own collection of internet commentators (”50 Cent Party”), and at times, mobilising their youths (gamers, fan circles) to scale the Firewall and astroturf, throw insults at the “CCP enemies” and bomb message boards with pro-CCP messages.
Also, a significant fraction of VPN companies, both in China and overseas, have been reported to have Chinese ownership, by companies with government connections. These VPN services provide a false sense of security for those who do not enjoy having big brother peeking behind their backs while acting as surveillance tools that extend beyond the country.
(Please be careful about free VPNs).
The next question: If until now, users of private VPNs only rarely get into trouble, what’s holding them from scaling the Great Firewall and learning the facts?
It is this: the law isn’t about “climbing the wall”, but what one does outside the wall.
Article 6 of the 2016 edition of Cybersecurity law states the following: 
第六条 国家倡导诚实守信、健康文明的网络行为,推动传播社会主义核心价值观,采取措施提高全社会的网络安全意识和水平,形成全社会共同参与促进网络安全的良好环境
Article 6: The State advocates sincere, honest, healthy and civilized network conduct; promoting dissemination of the core socialist values, adopting measures to raise the entire society's awareness and level of network security, and forming a good environment for the entire society to jointly participate in advancing network security.
What this article implies is this ~ legally, Chinese citizens are bound to the Chinese government’s rules of good internet conduct, regardless of whether they use VPN to get on the internet. As with many Chinese laws, however, the vagueness in wording invites more questions than answers. Is it getting on Twitter, a banned website, “sincere, honest, healthy and civilized network conduct”? Obviously, it’s illegal to interact with other users about the Xinjiang’s internment camps, but what if one only goes there to talk about their favourite stars, because on Weibo supertopic they can’t even mention the stars’ name, can’t ahkgkhagjkfaskjgdf about their favourite fics? What if one goes there to discuss a M- or E-rated fic? Where is the line drawn and given its vagueness, will that line move tomorrow? How?
Most people, therefore, have opted to simply stay away from VPN. After all, China offers its own version of many of the fun websites out there (Weibo-Twitter; Instagram-Oasis; Tiktok-Douyin; Youtube-Bilibili). For those who do use VPN, they tend to stick to websites that are unlikely to cause issues (such as Instagram; Instagram became an issue when Hong Kongers started to upload information about the protests on there).
Now, let’s proceed to 2): People don’t know the facts because they’re being lied to about what they know.
There’s a difference between having access to facts and knowing that they’re facts. This is among the most painful lessons, perhaps, for those who followed the politics of the United States in the last few years (please forgive me for the US-centric-ness of the following few paragraphs!). Even with equal access to identical information, people can vary a LOT in their understanding of what are facts and what are lies.
This illustrates the power of propaganda—and propaganda in the US isn’t even centralised. Some media outlets and individuals (political leaders and analysts) have more say on what should be viewed as the truth, but parties without significant power—small foreign and domestic interests, fringe political organisations, conspiracy theorists, regular folks—have also made critical contributions to the “fake news” phenomenon in the US. There haven’t been apparent coordinations between these parties;  little concerted effort has been made to create one coherent story out of the many tales told.
In China, the propaganda effort is centralised, coordinated, free of distractions from competing story lines. The One Story the government decides on is repeated, over and over again, on newspapers, in shows, in textbooks, on signs on the streets, on social media. To put it another way, when it comes to political discourse, the country is designed to be an echo chamber with 1.4 billion people. Over time, the One Stories inevitably become firmly held beliefs—so firmly held that even if the people are exposed to facts, they no longer believe in them.
This is especially true when the source of the facts are countries with strong traditions of freedoms of speech and press, where the facts are often laid out with a critical eye to the administration and with vastly different opinions attached to them. While we view the latter as evidences that the values we embrace are alive and well—a critical eye to the administration means the Fourth Estate is doing its job, and the different opinions means freedom of speech gets to live another day—people who haven’t been exposed to these values tend to interpret these things as signs of weakness of the government. They may think the Chinese government is better than its counterparts elsewhere because no one is penning scathing criticisms against it. They may think the Chinese government is stronger because it unifies the opinions of their people—the failure of which, they’ve been taught, would lead to social chaos and economic free-fall.
The Chinese population has also been “immunised” against the truths that may be exposed about their government by a propaganda talking point used since Chairman Mao’s days—that the “Imperialist” western world, particularly the United States, is always scheming its downfall. The phrase often used is 美帝亡我之心不死 (”The heart (intention) of Imperialist US to bring us down will never die”). Unfavourable truths exposed must therefore be part of the “bring down China” scheme. This decades-old demonisation of the political apparatus of the US and Europe also prepares the people to accept what most would see as outrageous conspiracy theories: for example, in March 2020, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs claimed that the US Army intentionally planted COVID in Wuhan during the 2019 Military World games. “Foreign interference” becomes a frequent and convenient scapegoat for policy decisions gone wrong, sometimes to a (somewhat) hilarious effect ~ for example, a Taiwanese journalist calculated the cost required for the CIA to fund the 2019 Hong Kong Protests, as the Chinese government had claimed—and it turned out that the CIA was too poor to do it. 
(Many of us in the US would probably laugh at the idea that our government is capable of secretly paying 2 million foreign-language speaking strangers to show up together in one march.) (It can’t even get the COVID relief payments to its own people right over a period of months.)
(Fun trivia for turtles! As 美帝=“Imperialist US” is the synonym of a feared, imaginary super-villain—super organised, super efficient, super everywhere and super impossible to take down—c-BJYX, the indestructible No. 1 CP fandom in China, has been nicknamed “美帝 cp” by those not so enamoured with it.)
Finally, there’s the psychological factor. Once a set of beliefs becomes personal truths, listening to alternatives can be very upsetting (for those in the US: imagine the blue voting block made to listen to Fox News). Hence, even when people gain access to the facts later—for example, when they study/work abroad, even emigrate—they often don’t take advantage of the access. Instead, they remain logged in in the Chinese social media sites where they’re comfortable with not only the politics but also the language and the friendships they’ve built, and continue to immerse themselves in an environment heavy with CCP propaganda. They remain defenders of the Chinese government; some have even gone out and harass people who disagree with it, in the name of freedom of speech that their country of origin never offered to them.
Censorship, of course, is an important component of building a One Story echo chamber, and I should add a note about it: censorship in China comes in vastly different strengths. The restrictions on LGBT+ issues, for example, are fairly lax, relatively speaking—“homosexuality” remains a term one can find on their internet and a topic the administration continues to address, and while BL dramas are censored, their adapted versions, along with highly publicised discussions of their original material, have so far been tolerated. The strictest form of Chinese censorship would’ve allowed neither: any mention of the 1989 June 4th Tiananmen Square massacre , for example, is immediately removed, including any hints that the event may have happened. When the former leader of the Chinese government, Jiang Zemin (江澤民), was rumoured to have passed away, the censorship apparatus went so far as to remove all mentions of Jiang, which also happened to mean “large rivers”. Chinese netizens therefore joked that major rivers had ceased to exist in China that day, as one couldn’t find any information about them online.
(LGBT+ activists have therefore remained optimistic about the future of their campaign, despite the current state of affairs. To put it simply: the Chinese government has bigger fish to fry. Sexual minorities haven’t had major clashes with the administration, haven’t embarrassed the Chinese government with their demand for rights as the ethnic minorities—the Uyghurs, the Tibetans, the Mongolians etc did. Political dissidents, including the millions in Hong Kong, are also (far) ahead in the ranking of fish size.)
For most issues, the censorship effort sits somewhere in the middle and is often inconsistent over time. The people, therefore, often have knowledge that an event has happened — even when the event is considered, beyond the Great Firewall, damaging to the reputation of the Chinese government. However, critical information is often missing in their knowledge, or is heavily distorted. For example, overseas Chinese citizens have insisted that the motivation of the 2019 Hong Kong Protests was economic, echoing the longstanding CCP propaganda that Hong Kongers have been jealous of China’s prosperity (reality: China’s GDP per capita was $10,268 USD in 2019, and Hong Kong’s, $48,713—more than 4 times higher). They missed out a critical fact: while the fast economic growth of China has created some unease—Hong Kongers have always known the Chinese government has only tolerated them and their freedoms for their ability to generate wealth—what has truly ignited Hong Kong’s anger is the Chinese government’s violation of the 1984 Sino-British Joint Declaration, and the terms it had agreed upon to get back the then British crown colony. Hong Kong hasn’t been demanding autonomy and freedoms because it’s a troublemaker, but because these things were promised to the city as conditions of the 1997 handover. As residents of the world’s third largest financial centre, Hong Kongers are diligent drafters and executioners of contracts (which international treaties are) and above all, faithful believers of them. For an asker (the Chinese government) to claim a contract as “historical”  because it has received the goods (Hong Kong) and no longer feels a need to pay (allow Hong Kong 50 years of freedoms and autonomy) is offensive to the principle, the very heart and soul of the city. 
(Gg’s former boss was a Hong Konger, and his experience working for him was a rather accurate reflection of Hong Kong’s view on business. What made an impression to Gg—that the posters should be without rips and misprints, even if these imperfections were not the fault of the design company—is a no-brainer to the Hong Konger in me reading the interview. Delivering high quality goods and services isn’t an act of kindness but rather, of professionalism and respect for the contract.)
(This interview is a highly recommended read, for those who’ve missed it!)
(One more example of “conveniently missed critical information”: remember GG’s show on Chongqing? Did you know the underground bombing shelters were not built by the Communist government, but the Nationalist government that was still ruling China during WWII?)
Anyway, where was I?
Right. We’re getting to 3): People are not getting the facts on the political situation in China because they’re not interested in current affairs.
Some—well, many— people are not interested in politics.
Some of you may be thinking: well, I’m not interested either. I follow politics because it’s important.
Why is it important? Because political engagement means you can do something about the many ills of the society, speak for those who cannot, force the government to change by voting, by voicing your opinion, by going to marches and protests etc.
What if you follow politics and still can’t do most of these things? What if, if you do choose to do these things, the price you pay may be astronomical? Will you still follow politics or devote your time, your energy to something else, something you’ve got more control over, something that won’t be as saddening, frustrating because it’s something you can actually change?
3) is therefore intricately related to why people often don’t do anything, even if they manage to find out about the facts.
There’re no national elections in China. Marches and protests are practically banned because while the Chinese Constitution guarantees the freedom of assembly (as it does freedom of speech and press; Article 35), it also explicitly states that "Citizens of the People’s Republic of China, in exercising their freedoms and rights, may not infringe upon the interests of the State, of society or of the collective, or upon the lawful freedoms and rights of other citizens.” (Article 51) — ie. the freedoms and rights only go as far as if they do not stand in the government’s way. Social media and all communications platforms are under constant surveillance, and so only opinions tolerated by the government is allowed... 
And so, the fact, social ill that has broken your heart—you can’t tell for sure if it isn’t talked about because the government has censored it, how many people know about it and more importantly, how many among the people who know about it will agree with your take. If you break your silence and voice your concerns, how many people will have your back, even if you also conceive them as victims of the social ill? If the social ill is the lack of rights of a minority group, for example, will they appreciate your speaking out, or will your “rocking-the-boat” make things even worse for them? A heavily watched net means communications with the oppressed/vulnerable social groups are often filled with obstacles, if not outright impossible. You don’t know how these groups feel; you don’t even know how many affected individuals are there. You watch the and news and shows and they all talk about how wonderfully things are going; how everyone seems so hopeful and positive and happy with their lives—are you the only person feeling that way? Are you wrong? If you speak out then, will you be yelling into the void, or worse, yelling at the police who “invites” you for a chat in the police station? To speak for those who do not have a voice to speak, are you ready, willing to take the risk of also becoming one who no longer has a voice to speak? Is your family ready? 
To put it another way: the opportunity cost of “doing something” about the political situation can be astronomically high in China, compared to the opportunity cost of us doing something similar in our own country. 
If I want to support the LGBT+ population in my part of the US, for example, I can do so effectively with minimal investment and most importantly, with minimal risk. By pasting a rainbow flag on this Tumblr post, for example, I’ve already signalled to those who need support on this issue that I’m ready to give mine. And this “signal” of mine will join the hundreds and thousands on the site, collectively telling the activists doing the “on the ground” fighting that they’re not alone; that they have my vote of support. I pose no danger to myself in doing so; no one will accuse me of, arrest me for infringing upon the interests of the State and the Collective. The rainbow flag, a display of my stance, will not turn into a blurred blob the next time I look at it, transform overnight from a symbol of solidarity to a warning sign to those who may wish to join the cause. There’s no danger for me, even, to carry an actual, huge rainbow flag to Pride, perform my activism in person. I don’t have to worry about my phone already giving away my identity as a protester to the government, especially in post-COVID times. I don’t need to watch out for plain clothes pretending to be my allies. I don’t have to look at the many surveillance cameras present and wonder if I’ll get blacklisted as a troublemaker.
Am I still being tracked and taken pictures of? Possibly. But for this cause, at least, I’m not afraid that these information will be used to arrest me. If I were arrested, I know there'll be lawyers and activists who would come to my aid. LOUDLY. ANGRILY.
I’m not afraid. Period. I’m having fun. And I doubt I can say the same if I try to carry a rainbow flag to Tiananmen square and march there.
This vast difference in the opportunity cost of taking political action is the reason why I’ve refrained from demanding those who live under authoritarian dictatorships to stand up for their neighbours who’ve been oppressed / bullied by their governments. I’ve refrained from criticising them for looking away, minding their own business. Do I wish they’ve take action? Of course I do. Am I aware that their lack of action is potentially more harmful because of the frequent atrocities happening around them? Yes. But I also understand that going on a fight is far more frightening when one doesn’t even have a sense of how many will join their side of the fight; I understand that fighting for what one deserves—freedoms, rights, justice—should never equal martyrdom, and just because a regime has elected to put equal signs between the two doesn’t mean those equal signs should ever be there. I remind myself that, to ask the people in any authoritarian dictatorship to stand up for a political cause is to ask them to make sacrifices that we, as people in relatively free societies, do not need to make when standing up for the same cause. In a country where a father demanding the truth about the milk product poisoning of his own son got jail time for “eliciting social disorder”, to stand up for even a single issue, no matter how small that issue is, requires courage that I’m not sure I have.
I can’t ask anyone to do anything I may not be able to do myself.
And this is why I, too, have chosen to support these people, even if many of them are single-issue activists, even when many support the Chinese government on other issues that matter. For example, the late Dr Li Wenliang, one of the eight COVID whistleblowers in China who passed away from the disease, was an opponent of the Hong Kong Protest, but I still (greatly) appreciate, respect him for what he did. As long as they’re not actively helping the government to cause (more) harm to others, as long as their cooperation with their government falls within what is demanded of them as citizens, they have my support. Why? Because most people who speak out in China cannot afford to stand up for more than one cause before it becomes dangerous for them. Because even if it’s only a tiny vulnerable social group, one small minority that makes a tiny step towards more rights, more freedoms, more justice, it’s still a victory in a country where rights, freedoms and justice are luxury items for those with neither political nor economic power. Because those who’re not part of the ruling class cannot afford to cherry pick their allies, cannot afford to in-fight when the ruling class already holds absolute power. Because I still believe in pay-it-forward, that most people who’ve benefited from someone standing up for them, even for one small incident, one minor cause, is more likely to stand up for someone else.
This is, admittedly, not always an easy choice to make—not for me, at least. I do get frustrated, can’t help but think at times that those who subscribe to and spread propaganda are, to a certain extent, corroborators of the atrocities committed by their government. (So, to those who’ve felt this frustration, you’re not alone!). And the Hong Konger in me has every reason to be furious with everything about China right now—all I could think of, when I listened to Gg singing 異鄉人 Foreigner the other night, are all the Hong Kongers fleeing the city now, as refugees, because of their political beliefs.
But for now, I’m hanging on. I’ve been able to tell myself that given the country’s political reality, given its tradition of collectivism (which tends to view confrontational dissent with scorn), the paths to freedoms, to equal rights and acceptance, will not be the same as what I’ve seen, what I’ve wished for. They’ll likely be slow; They’ll likely be long and winding, taking three steps forward and two steps back; they’d likely be unexpected in places, offer us surprises —
And since it’s Chinese New Year / Valentines and I’m feeling brave (irresponsible?), I’d venture a little bit of speculation and say this ~ yes, I’ve wondered if one of these many paths may be trodden, intentionally or not, by two beautiful male idols and their millions of turtles. Is it wishful, fantastical thinking? I’d be the first to admit the answer is yes. But the BJYX scheme has been so well executed as of now, so effective that I can’t help but wonder if it’s leading towards some sort of a goal, whether devised by the humans involved or by the gods/Fates who, as c-turtles have said so romantically, have been writing an original BL story with our favourite boys. The goal may be personal —simply two people being able to act more like themselves again under the spotlight—or a bit more ambitious…
… Because the sneakers + ice-cream post did catch my attention (will probably have to devote a post on that?). Another small incident that has caught my attention, unrelated to Gg and Dd but can significantly change the path they may be trodding, is this — in June 2020, People’s Daily, the state controlled newspaper, boasted its country’s increasing friendliness towards the LGBT+ communities on Twitter . While the tweet was met with skepticism and soon removed, the message it sent is this: the Chinese government may have figured out the the Western world (in particular, the younger generations) view LGBT+ rights as a measure of progressiveness. While I’m still leaning towards the government maintaining a tight grip on LGBT+ rights within its borders, with the strengthening call to boycott 2022 Beijing Winter Olympics because of the country’s poor human rights record, I can see a glimmer of possibility that the same government may do the unexpected and cater to the queer community for the sake of propaganda.  As I mentioned, the queer community hasn’t caused much headache for the Chinese government, and so it’s far more likely to be chosen as the “benefactors” of such a “we’re a human rights champion too!” propaganda campaign than, say, ethnic minorities and political dissidents. Promoting dissemination of core socialist values has always sat high on the CCP’s agenda list, and its target audience has always included foreign, non-Chinese populations; this effort is known as 大外宣—“The Great External Propaganda”. And who better to cast as leads of an international propaganda campaign on LGBT+ rights than two of its own stars who’ve already demonstrated loyalty to the government, who’ve already garnered international fame from a TV series widely viewed as queer, and who may actually be queer?
(And if—if!!!— this ever happens, may I ask everyone to please consider doing the following? Please do not feel a need to express gratitude. Please do not act as though it’s a gift. Celebrate as you would celebrate anyone in a free country exercising their birthright to live, to love the way they want — no less than that, no more than that.)
(For those who’ve asked ~ as international fans, not allowing the CCP to modify our expectations of how a government should behave may be one of the most effective ways to protect Gg and Dd.)
(I call this learning from the best: get the goods we want (more rights for the people in China), refuse to pay the cost (subscribe to CCP’s propaganda), and RUN! ❤️💛💚)
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theyarebothgunshot · 3 years
Note
this is exactly how it went down in my head.
misha: hey, everything okay? do you need me to do something?
jensen: no, lay low. we’re figuring it out.
misha: got it.
— the next day —
misha: things settled. should i say anything? draw attention? stay neutral?
jensen: you don’t have to, but if you want, tread lightly. we’ve had enough chaos.
misha: say no more.
when nobody got your back you KNOW dmitri got your back.
ANYWAYS i turned my back for TWO MINUTES and y'all went the fuck off in my inbox so, you know the drill: more under the cut
NO BUT JENSEN’S RESPONSE LMAAAAAO honestly fallout theory is so on oh my God I can’t stop-
on god they are so loud like-
Worst damage control i've ever seen. god bles.
so true bestie
I think Jensen probably just wants to be done with this petty little drama, so if he has to pretend everything between them is okay he is going to be the bigger man and lay it to rest. Whatever is going on between them he definitely doesn't want to sort that out on social media and the earlier he pretends everything is sorted out the earlier people will forget about it again.
Also it's kinda funny how J*red Tweet was like implying they had a misunderstanding but still talk to each other regularly, while Jensen went full on the we grow apart a little bit, because we were busy, let's catch back up. Makes me wonder if they actually talked or if there managers just said hey that's not good pr, let's put that to rest. Also did J*red know before yesterday that they had a falling out or did he just not realize.
- 🐌 anon
literally jensen went out of his way to say 'uhhh we never talk, worstie' god if pr management is involved then they did a bad job. also j*red still does not realise they have fallen out. jshfjdsfh
Jackles was like God bless but we ain’t talking like this worstie
good for her.gif
csdsc heeft gevraagd:
All I need now is for Misha to tweet “ is it safe to come out now?” And I’ll be complete lmfao 😂😂😂
that would have been better than what we got lmfao
I have one fear and it's Jensen being forced to add j*red to his show and his other projects because he couldn't stop whining like a baby,,, ugh i hate him
i pretend i do not see
Kinda selfish of me tbh but i don't want them to be "friends" again, Jensen sweetie run as fast as you can
co-signed
Ok Jensen's answer to Jared tweet made me feel so bad for him. Like, I can see it's damage control and public relations (obviously) but there's stuff behind it. I can't name it, but idk, I felt terrible for texas man this time, I don't think that reply was written with a "love and light energy" or even without much care. I felt some heavy vibes.
- 🌻, who is now a fortune teller and a prophet apparently
yeah i feel hella bad for him to, for having to deal with this shit. nonnie please if you ever have anything to predict, lemme know sjdfhs
You know Jensen's tweet has the energy of like kindergarten wenn an other kid started a fight with you and the kindergarten teacher wants you to forgive each other and hung it out and you really don't want to, but your kindergarten teacher is being annoying and he isn't worth the annoyance either.
- 🐌 anon
you are not wrong
Incredibly thankful that I have the day off from work 😂 I'm with hatching chick anon, the 3 dots read as passive aggressive/insincere to me, and I love it! I haven't spent this many hours on tumblr since I first discovered cockles! (On a side note, the lack of fimmf posts today has me feeling like it's not friday lol) -🐢
i, too, miss fimmf but alas things happen, they do they do they do
I was right. :(
It got almost romantic...
👀
nonnie you know i love you but this is really not the case, like, at all??? idk how you could look at those tweets and think it was almost romantic. it was THEE most scripted, pr bullshit ever. it was staged and fake. idk what else to tell ya
Danneel liked Jensen's tweet
i saw
That is so so awkward I feel so sorry for all of us being exposed to this and so happy I chose to leave the Internet for half a day - tea anon
god bless your stance on that cause i would have hated missing out on this lmao
You know what? I think it’s okay being a 38 year old moron if you’re bringing us this type of content
im happy with the food but still think its not okay tbh
pspspsps Misha this is the perfect day for you to drop the gay Cas essay pspspspsp it is still pride month pspspsps
you know you want to king pspsps
So that JIB6 link (I think it was from your post, right?). I went and watched that bit, and a little more.
Jensen makes a comment about Jared being first on the call sheet because Sam was supposed to be the main focal character.
And that him nor Misha cared about what number they were, so in all that time it never changed.
And I’ll be… if that just doesn’t perfectly sum them up and their feelings on things. And how a certain someone can be petty… 🦚
idk if it was from my post? but maybe? my analysis probably? but yeah things are making more and more sense huh
Ohh that's also an alien? Welcome to the extraterrestial family then, purple alien anon!
Also it's probably because I'm coming off the high this drama gave me but I'm not looking forward to them trying so hard to convince us everything is normal between them. Even though we now Know, they will have to keep pretending. Today (yesterday?) was a shitshow but some masks fell off, at least for a moment and I kinda wish Jensen was less professional 😂
👽
oh for real, fallout theory IS confirmed and nothing they said today will change my mind, it only made me believe in it even more lmfao and with that in mind i am just gonna sip my tea if they try to be buddy buddy on main again
I THINK MISHA UNRETWEETED BUT HE TWEETED "LOVE AND MISS YOU BOTH" I'M LOSING MY DIGNITY HERE - tea anon
yeah he now answered them sjdfhsjfhsf instead of rt
MISHA COLLINS IS A KING I STAN THE RIGHT MAN
YOU SURE DO
I just know Misha’s process was oh crap I have to let people know I’m supporting them and I can’t choose sides. Ok. Retweet. NO. Delete. I love both of you. Yes, good.
sjdfsdfh this makes me think of that post that dissected jackles' birthday post for misha where he used the heart. 'call him bro, that makes it less obvious. nailed it.'
Lol I'm off for a few days and come back to total chaos... God I missed it here
Like the "et tu... #bravo" tweet? Made my day! Frikking hilarious (every time I see it I picture J*red with a pissy frech accent saying it out loud lol) it's just such an incredibly petty hissy fit he threw (I know he tweeted more later on but... Really all that stuff coming afterwards just sounds like damage control)
Missed you Rose
-🐻
LOVE the french accent detail im gonna do this too sdjfhsjfh missed you toooo!!!!
Oh man Misha is really gonna get hate for that I KNOW IT
sigh well. nothing he isnt used to by now, unfortunately
i mean i believe they feel like brothers, but constantly falling back on the “brother” thing to keep up appearances is really starting to feel like “#spnfamily” at this point.
honestly brothers can be very annoying, or so i have heard, so it fits with the fallout theory lmao
They actually said if we’re gonna make this gay we cannot have Jar*d Pad*lecki involved
oh my God this is the funniest timeline to ever exist God bless I’m just waiting to canon bi Mary
king shit tbh
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Text
Yandere Tubbo x Male Reader
Warning: little violence (not that detailed). 
This one is going to be short.
Requested from Pokadeathpony
Backstory: You live in Brighton, England, United Kingdom. (I don’t know where Tubbo lives nor do I know where Tommy lives) One day you were walking to go get some breakfast. Until you bumped into George one of your favorite Minecraft streamers and content creators. You were a small streamer, not that many viewers. You and George began to talk, he later invited you to see the dream SMP world, and you meet the other people of the dream SMP. You then got to meet Tubbo. You thought Tubbo was normal until it took a turn. A big turn. 
Btw you are 17. (Tommy will be turning 17 this year and Tubbo will be 18)
M/N: Male name
Y/T/N: Your Twitch Name.
M/U: Minecraft username
H/C: Hair color
S/C: Skin color
F/D/P: favorite donut place.
Sorry if this is bad.
You were sleeping peacefully until I heard the most annoying sound ever. 
*Beep, beep, beep,* “Ughhhhh.” You were trying to turn it off but you kept missing until you finally got it. ‘Finally got that stupid thing off!’ you thought to yourself. “What time is it?” I looked at the clock. “7:35 am. I might as well get up,” you said to yourself as you slowly got out of bed, stretching your muscles. 
You went to the bathroom to do your business and brush your teeth. After you were done, you grabbed my keys and went to go get breakfast.
As you were walking to go get your daily donuts and coffee, you suddenly bumped into someone causing me to fall. “You okay there?” the voice said, ‘I know that voice!’ you thought to yourself and looked up to see George, George Davidson!!
He handed his hand out, you grabbed his hand. “You alright,” he said, you couldn’t process anything, you just stared at him. You snapped out of your daze. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m a fan of you by the way,” you replied with excitement. 
“Oh? Really?” he said, “Yes! I’m a big fan of yours! I’m actually a streamer just like you,” You replied. “Oh, really what’s your twitch name?” He asked, wondering maybe he’ll check you out. “Oh, Y/T/N!” 
“Okay, maybe check it out later today. Hey, wanna talk and get some food?” you couldn’t say no to that, how many get to eat with their favorite celebrity? “Yes, I would like. Either way, I was going there before I ran into you.” “Alright, let’s go.”
Time skip (You and George went to go eat, and later he checked out your Twitch channel. 3 days later, you got a DM from George saying; “Do you want to tour the Dream SMP world?” and you gladly accepted the offer. And this is where it all began.)
Y/N POV 
I recently got a message from George saying, “Do you want to tour the Dream SMP world?” and you (Or should I say “we”) know I accepted it. He said tomorrow is when it's happening. 
Time skip to tomorrow. 
I woke up earlier than usual, even beat my alarm clock before it could ring. I went to the bathroom and did my usual. George said he will invite me at 10:30 AM. “What time is it now?” I grabbed my phone and checked, “It's 7:10 AM. Will looks like I’m going to have to wait a while.”
Time skip (3 hours and 20 minutes later)
I hopped onto my PC and started it up. After it started, I opened up Minecraft and checked my Notifications. I received the invite I quickly joined in.
Tubbo POV
I was on the Dream SMP world with Tommy, Corpse, George, BBh, and Dream, when an unknown player had joined the game. That shouldn’t be possible since this server is private nobody can join be us.
“Hey who joined?” I questioned. “Oh, I met this small streamer while I was walking to go get breakfast 3 days ago, and I invited them over to give a tour of the place!” George enthusiastically over discord. 
‘Mmm, so they’re a streamer? Maybe I should get to know them.’ 
Time skip (To be honest this one is rushed. It’s currently 1:08 AM where I live and my mind isn’t functioning right now) 
After I introduced myself and the others did, we began to talk about random things. Apparently, M/N is currently streaming right now, and I went to go check it out. 
After I introduced myself and the others did, we began to talk about random things. Apparently, M/N is currently streaming right now, and I went to go check it out. 
M/N has a facecam on, and I get to see what he looks like. He had looked pulchritudinous. Absolutely exquisite. He had soft fluffy H/C hair, his nice S/C, and how his dazzling E/C shine brighter than the sun. I’m going to say it again, he is ravishing.
‘Wait, why am I calling a guy beautiful?’ this boy is triggering something in me. Something I never experienced before. Something in me wants me to protect him at all cost. ‘No stop thinking about that!’ I pushed these unfamiliar thoughts and feeling down.
As time went on my thing for M/N increased. I don’t know why I’m so infatuated with him. Tried ignoring the thoughts and feelings but they keep coming. 
‘Something is coming out of ME.’ 
Time skip ( 2 months after the meeting)
It’s been two months since our little meeting, M/N is officially part of the SMP world. I’ve been binge-watching M/N streams, his YouTube videos, and I also follow him on all his social media accounts, and sometimes I’ll search the internet to find small information. 
I was currently on a website about M/N. it listed all of the information about him since meeting George is grew rapidly on Twitch and YouTube. ‘I already know all of this!’ I thought to myself as I kept scrolling down until I came upon something interesting. 
“M/n current residence in Brighton, England, United Kingdom.” my eyes widen as I read this, ‘He lives close to me!’ I yelled in my mind. 
I was fanboying until I heard my notifications sound. I stopped what I was doing went to go check who it was from. M/N invited me, I immediately accepted it. The world was loading. “Hello!” M/n yelled.   
It was me, M/N, Tommy, and dream on the server. I noticed that Tommy has been getting close to M/n, really close to for my liking. Tommy would sometimes even flirt, this obviously made me jealous for some reason. 
We were minding our own business until “Hey M/n! Are you from Tennessee? Because you're the only 10 I see!” that was the most terrible pick-up line I have ever heard. “Oh my God Tommy?! Really?” M/n said but he was Laughing at that. 
This only made me INFURIATED.
M/n POV
I was minding my own business trying to build my home since I joined 2 weeks ago. The only other people on the server were me, tubbo, Tommy, and dream. Anyway, I was nearly done until Tommy said something, “Are you from Tennessee? Because you're the only 10 I see!”
That has to be the most dumbest and funniest pick-up line I heard. “Oh my God Tommy! Really?!” I said while laughing at his attempt at flirting with me. 
Then Tommy went on to say more stupid pick-up line. Some of them were like, “Hey, my name's Microsoft. Can I crash at your place tonight?” and “Are you related to Jean-Claude Van Damme? Because Jean-Claude Van Damme you’re sexy!” Just to name a few. 
I noticed that Tubbo hasn’t been talking as much. I wonder what’s wrong with him. I didn’t take note that was going to lead to something atrocious. 
Anyways we still had fun, Tommy kept trying to flirt. “Hey M/n, I was wondering if we could meet up since you know, we both live in Brighton,” Tommy with hope in his voice, hoping you accept his offer. I began to think, ‘Mmm, should I? Or should I not?’
“You know what? Sure. What time do you want to meet?” I accepted his request. “Uhhhhhh, Maybe on Thursday at 5:30. Meeting place F/D/P.” Tommy replied. “Alright! See you there,” I replied.
No One’s POV
Tubbo was fuming with anger as he was listening in on their conversation. ‘No!!!!! I can’t let this happen! I need to do something.’ Tubbo was thinking to himself, but he didn’t notice that M/n and Tommy had stop talking.
“Hey, Toby! Are you okay? You haven’t been talking,” Tommy said with concern. “Yeah, I’m just fine you know!” Tubbo said with venom and anger in his voice. “Wow there calm down, I was just asking. Geez,” Tommy backed knowing that his friend is anger. 
‘Why is he angry? I did nothing wrong!’ Tommy thought to himself, wanting to know what he did. “You know what, I think I’m going to leave,” Tubbo said as he left the game and went offline. 
“What’s his big deal?” M/n questioned. “I don’t know,” Tommy replied, “I gotta go. See ya later M/n!” “Bye Tommy!” Tommy has left the game. 
Meanwhile. 
“I need to find a way to prevent this meetup!” Tubbo said to himself. Then an idea came into mind. An extreme idea. 
New Messages 
Today at 4:23
Toby: Hey, Tommy. Sorry I lashed out at you today.
Delivered at 4:23 
Tommy is tying…
Tommy: it’s alright mate.
Delivered at 4:23
Toby is typing…
Toby: How about we meet up, so I can apologize in person.
Delivered at 4:24
Tommy is typing…
Tommy: today or tomorrow? Cause I have a meeting with M/n. 
Delivered at 4:24
When Tommy mentioned the meeting toby had to act fast. 
Toby is typing…
Toby: today at my place.
Delivered at 4:25
Tommy is typing…
Tommy: sure thing! When exactly?
Delivered at 4:25
Toby is typing…
Toby: 5:30 
Delivered at 4:25
Tommy is typing…
Tommy: Okay, see you at 5:30
Delivered at 4:26
‘And that WILL be the last time you see.’
Time skip (1 hour 4 minutes)
Toby heard his door knocked. Toby went to go open his door, and there he sees his target. “Hey, Toby!” Tommy let himself in. “So where are your parents?” Tommy questioned. 
“Oh, they’re on their anniversary vacation,” Toby answered. “Ohhh, okay. Wanna head to your room?” “Sure I just need to go get something.” “Okay.” 
While Tommy went upstairs, Toby went into the kitchen. He grabbed the knife and slowly began to walk, he hid the knife behind his back. Once he walked into his room, he locked the door and slowly began to approach Tommy. 
“What are you doing Toby?!” Tommy yelled as walked backward, but then he hit the wall. “It was never meant to be.” those would be the last words, Tommy would ever hear as Toby shoved the knife into Tommy’s heart. 
Toby cleaned up the body by putting it into the trash bag along with the knife. He quickly disposed of the body. 
3 days later
Tommy was reported missing by his parents and the police were on the search. M/n was worried. Toby called M/n to do a cooking stream. M/n was suspicious about this cause this came out of nowhere. But in the end, M/n agreed. 
A few hours have passed and M/n arrived at the residence of Toby. m/n knocked on the door waiting for an answer just then the door swung open revealing a smiling Toby. 
“Hey there M/n! Glad that you arrived!” Toby sounded a bit too happy for your liking. “Please come in!” he invited you in. But as you walked, you heard the door close and lock behind you. Just as you turned around you got knocked by a heavy object. 
You slowly began to wake, you noticed that you were tied up. You looked around until your eyes landed on Toby. He had a wicked smile plaster on his face. 
“Why are you doing this?” you asked desperately wanting to know why. ‘Did he cause Tommy to go missing?’ You thought to yourself until you hear Toby coming to you. 
“You know, I always reject this feeling inside me. This feeling caused me to love you. Tommy was getting in the way of us being together, he had to be dealt with.”
“You’re a monster! You killed Tommy and you think I’m going to love you?!” this angered Toby but didn’t show it. “You’ll learn to love… cause you’ll be staying here…
Forever…”
150 notes · View notes
kaissauce · 3 years
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okay, phucker, do it
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ok let's do this @rolli-zolli @ninikins
Horrortale: technically an alternate timeline instead of au. after a neutral run where undyne's queen the core malfunctions and food becomes scarce and people resort to eating humans because sans suggested it. Aliza is the protag. latest thing that happened in the ongoing comic was Aliza agreeing to go with Papyrus to solve his last puzzle. as for the appearance of sans he has a HUGE hole on his head and a red eye. he got the hole from undyne when she got his magic eye which was going to be used to power the core. sans didnt die tho and killed the guards holding him down and just took whatever eye was on the ground and used it as a replacement for his magic eye that's powering the core. i quote first words he said after putting the eye in his socket "who the fuck took my phone?". then the magic eye went apeshit and broke the core again. oh and also he made alphys braindead by quite literally scrambling her brain. yeah this au is rough sans hasn't really eaten anything since the core was destroyed since he decided not to eat any humans.
Dusttale: i think this was originally a korean au? basic rundown: too many genocide runs sans goes apeshit and tries to get his Lv up by killing monsters himself man went fuckin insane kills his brother blah blah blah edgy angsty au the ghost of papyrus haunts him n stuff. sans literally just looks the same except he has his hood on and sometimes artists draw him with papyrus's scarf. the cool artists draw him with his hood on and has the hood completely cover his face so u can only see his glowing pupils. although people call him dust sans he's actually named murder sans
Killer: so frickin similar to dusttale except sans goes apeshit because of the human being like "join me lmao". three different outcomes come from this. i think it was 1 sans joins human 2 sans joins human kills human later on 3 kills human or something. friends with color sans who is basically his impulse control. pretty sure his soul's fucked up and Color sans tries to make his soul un-fucked but Nightmare comes in and fucks up the progress. he has white shorts, his eye sockets are constantly pitch black and leaking tar or something also has a weird target thingy on his chest. OH YEAH ALSO HE HAS BEEF WITH UNDERSWAP SANS ALMOST FORGOT. basically swap sans tried to make killer good and then they had a fight, swap sans lost and was on the verge of dying thankfully swap papyrus was able to save him in time i think
Dreamtale: Dream isn't in the drawing but his brother, Nightmare is. Sooo he used to not look all goooy and have tentacles n stuff but then he ate a couple hundred apples and yeah. he's six years old apparently. Nightmare and Dream are supposed to be guardians of a tree that has 500 golden apples and 500 black n goopy apples. the golden aples are positive and the goop ones are negative. you're not supposed to eat either of them cus bad shit happens. Dream and Nightmare live in a village and for whatever reason they're all dicks to Nightmare because ooughh he's the guardian of negativity that's not baller. he also goes apeshit (do u see a pattern here) and eats a goopy apple n then becomes the goop man he is today. he fuckin eats 999 apples jesus christ. and the last one is eaten by Dream because if u eat all 1000 apples u become unstoppable and immortal. so that would be a bad thing if nightmare got the last one. wop wop wop these dude aren't sanses they only have the body of one if that makes sanse.
Error: manlet. he's literally an error and that's why he's like that. also he's technically not a sans now, the redesign for him was so that he could be in the creator's webcomic named Lucidia. Error sans, aka the destroyer of aus, finds aus to be mistakes so he tries to get rid of them. his process of doing this is simple: get the human soul to the void so that they can't reset, destroy the au. he primarily attacks using his strings which can wrap around one's soul and control them. he like some aus like outertale because of how open and empty it is. he likes to be alone and has haphephobia. if u touch him he'll glitch out and possibly crash. he crashes whenever gets overwhelmed. said crashing causes him to shut down and reboot and he's powerless while doing so. he's actually pretty easy to beat if you know how to push his buttons the right way. in the og ask error blog made by his creator Loverofpiggies he kidnaps Swap sans who tries to help Error become a better person. this ends horribly as error leaves Swap sans in the void who then becomes an error aswell due to being alone in the void too long. Error actually regrets doing that to swap sans
Aftertale: OK FUN FACT THE SANS OF THIS AU, WHO'S NICKNAMED "Geno" IS ERROR. aftertale is a comic made by LoverofPiggies it's been SOOOO long since i last read it so i cant really give a good summary. but anyways Geno is trapped in the loading screen with the human and will die if he leaves the loading screen. eventually from being in the loading screen for too long after the events of aftertale he becomes Error.
OOF WOWIE THERE'S SO MUCH TO GO
Underfresh: he's not even a sans either. "Fresh" is a parasite inhabiting a skeleton. his birthday is on 4/20 which is ironic cus he doesn't like drugs. he censors swears. he speaks 90's lingo and dresses like a neon sign. for some reason he has eyebrows and a gold tooth. the glasses he has can change text but normally defaults to "YOLO". he can't feel anything since he has no soul of his own and just latches onto the host's. instead he learns how to act from the people around him. not being able to feel actually bothers him a LOT
Echotale: Aka Gaster sans. uhhh this one was also a comic if i remember correctly. basically Frisk and G!Sans are the only ones in the au and they're trying to find the core to fix the fucked up timeline that they're in but the core keeps changing positions so that sucks.
Swapfell: originally made by Khhoppang who left social media. Started out as an Alphys x Undyne au so only those two were designed but Kh was planning to design more of the characters. before they could people had a field day with the idea of mashing two aus together and SO many people came up with their own designs for sans and papyrus. Khhoppang left social media because they got overwhelmed with all the art reposters and stuff, pretty sad. the appearance of the sans in that au is the purple one with a scythe (i dont think he has a scythe in the og design).
Swapfell Red: so basically this is the swapfell made by people that isn't Khhoppang. community made per se. Sans's appearance changes constantly because as said before many people made many different designs. typically he just looks like Swap sans but with red high heel boots and his color scheme fits underfell
Fellswap (gold): Au made by blackggggum. so swapfell is underswap turned fell, fell swap is underfell swapped it takes a bit to understand that. his appearance is somewhat similar to Swapfell red. He's kind to his friends but if ur his enemy he'll fucking deck you. he's blind in his left eye, the leader of the royal guard, and secretly into dressmaking. fun fact in this au Papyrus has autism
Xtale: uuuuhhhh so Cross is a complicated one. he's part of the royal guard along with papyrus. has beef with xgaster. responsible for the downfall of his au and then Underverse happens and Ink is all "oh cool someone to mess with" and they became friends for a bit then shit hit the fan
Underfell: OOOOO YES UNIRONICALLY ONE OF MY FAVORITES. So Underfell sans is actually a very powerful mf and constantly has his magic eye activated because he has so much magic. This au is also technically an alternate timeline where monsters "lost their humanity" as the creator put it. so basically trust in the underground is scarce. Sans and papyrus, contrary to many interpretations i fucking hate, are actually on good terms (and no sans doesn't call papyrus "boss" the creator said if he does he'd do it ironically and papyrus would hate it). Fun facts he pays Grillby in socks (grillby accepts the socks as payment and wears them), if u make grillby laugh he gives u a jacket that looks like his and it's heavily implied that sans made him laugh because their jackets are similar
Underswap: ah yes another classic that i love as well. originally made by PopcornPr1nce who fled social media because they hated how the majority fandom treated Underswap (Blueberry and Carrot were popular names for the fanon swap papyrus and sans). Swap sans is constantly infantilized by the community which sucks and i hate it so i draw my own very super cool version of him whom i kin because i am also very super cool.
Outertale: mainly an aesthetic au pretty sure there's no comic of it. basically, instead of underground they in space. outer sans dies in underverse after like minutes of screentime lmao
Epictale: a comic made by Yugogeer. the og comic was retconned and the creator loathes the original version and made a reboot that's much better. Sans actually dies very early in it because Yugo hates how Sans is almost always focused on in aus. also the creator hates how meme-y their sans has become (like him saying bruh every single sentence, using a rubber chicken as a weapon, cookies, etc.) he's friends with Cross but not in canon. He has a purple magic eye that makes him immortal and i think only epic gaster could remove it which is how sans was able to be killed when he fought gaster.
Temmietale: it's undertale but everyone is temmie, don't question it
Trainertale: it's undertale but it's Pokemon, don't question it
Dancetale: it's undertale but you dance instead of fight, don't
Mobtale/Mafiatale: im unsure if mobtale and mafiatale are separate or not but they are very similar. basically undertale but mafia it's self explanatory
Undertale: no clue which au is this one, nope not at all/j
Bittytale or whatever idk: so take sans, make him small. boom. never understood this au
THAT BASTARD INK: HOOO BOY SAVED THE WORST FOR LAST. FUCK THIS GUY/j. THIS DUDE. IS THE REASON IM STILL INTO UNDERTALE AUS. I LOVE EM SO MUCH. also technically not a sans. He comes from an unfinished au and ripped his own soul to escape said au and became an outcode. for so long he was just a soulless husk until someone drew him and he got splashed with paint which let him feel. soon he learned to keep the paint in vials so that he can be able to feel 24/7. And then he learned how to create things with a paintbrush and the paint and spent time alone drawing up his own world until a portal appeared and took him to the multiverse. now he encourages artists to keep creating aus. he's the protector of aus in the sense that he keeps other outcodes from disrupting the script of the au, so if it's pacifist and an outcode tries to kill people he'd stop them, if it's genocide and an outcode tried to help them he'd stop them. no matter what he wants the au to stay on script. fun fact the creator of ink and the creator of error never had them interact with each other in canon, that was all the fandom's doing. Contrary to popular belief he's not really considered "good" his alignment is officially "Chaotic neutral". I personally interpret him a lot more chaotic than in canon because it's fun but he's a pretty chill guy actually. he can just be a bit of an ass sometimes. According to the creator of Ink (who is Comyet) his interpretation in Underverse is not canon compliant. one of the biggest canon things that underverse contradicts is Ink deliberately not taking his vials. if he were to do that in canon he'd become a husk again which is the equivalent of him "dying". he was described as a walking corpse by Comyet, without the vials he can't function anymore. Like Error he's pretty easy to beat if you know his weaknesses. also he has fears of empty spaces and being alone
off topic kinda but i very much love how Error and Ink are opposites yet parallel even though they were completely written without the other in mind. Error believes getting rid of aus is getting rid of anomalies. Ink believes people interfering with aus are anomalies. Error loves emptiness, Ink hates emptiness. list goes on it's funky fresh.
also uhhh sanses missing from that drawing that i can name from the top of my head
Seraphim sans, Insans, Dusttrust, He who shall not be named because he's from an 18+ au, Swapswap (yes. that exists), Storyshift, Inverted Fate (very good au i suggest checking it out), Negatale, Oceantale, Template, Pale, Mafiafell, Farmtale
my phone is at 9% y'all are spared from me going on
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jamaiskookie · 3 years
Text
meet me in your memories (knj)
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✂︎ pairing: memory traveller namjoon x gender neutral reader
✂︎ wc: 11.8k
✂︎ TW// car crash, mentions of death, crying, mental health, mental breakdowns, spoilers for frozen 1?? um, vomiting, mentions of PTSD, three seconds of family drama, memory loss
✂︎ notes: a little gift from me for being away so long <3 luv yall also ignore how short and shitty this is!!! ignore it!!!!! 
✂︎ synopsis: namjoon is a memory traveller - he is thrusted back and forth into his world and the world of his memories, forced to re-enact his past experiences. but he doesn’t recognise you, who keeps showing up in his memories. why doesn’t he remember you? why can’t he recall any of these scenes if they’re supposed to be his memories? and why does it always feel like he’s forgetting something? 
he comes to find out that he would choose you over and over again, in whatever lifetime or world he’s in. because he always returns to you. 
✂︎ fic tunes: "eight"- iu (prod. & feat. suga) but you're at your favorite secret spot after a long day by neptjoon
masterlist asks
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The road is slippery and Namjoon cranes his head out to look at the window. Rain splattering everywhere, he notes worriedly. He hopes that nobody crashes. The bus driver sitting about three meters in front of him is humming a melody to a song he doesn’t know nor recognise. While listening to the poor man hum the off beat tune, Namjoon sits in silence, wondering how sad it must be to drive a bus with no passengers but himself. 
Suddenly, his stomach drops and his head spins, and this time Namjoon is certain it’s not from the rain or the driver’s subpar driving. He lurches forward, watching as the rain knocks against the window and falls in thick ribbons. 
Click. 
In an instant, Namjoon’s world collapses around him and he is thrown into his mind. 
Seoul is sweltering hot - hot like he’s never felt before. Namjoon reaches up to clutch his head, which is still spinning, and finds himself standing in a pair of light washed baggy jeans and a sleeveless tee shirt, unlike the padding coat and thick boots he had on just a moment ago. 
“Namjoon!” Someone squeals behind him and his heart jumps. He jumps around, facing you and the view of hot street food stalls and tall buildings behind you. Suddenly, his hand is reaching out to grab onto yours and you smile softly. 
He hears his own voice ring out, clear as day: “Don’t run. I was looking for you.” 
“Psh.” You wave off his concern, handing him a shiny golden hotteok. You hold an identical one in your fist, so he accepts it and murmurs his thanks, tearing apart the pancake and stuffing it into his mouth. Sweet, hot honey and small pieces of walnut flood into his mouth, and Namjoon is momentarily surprised. Science states that you cannot taste or physically feel anything in your dreams. 
But Namjoon already proved that wrong long ago. 
He takes you by hand and drags you over to a shelter, for some rest, apparently uninterested in your cries of wanting more tteokbokki or some Chinese food. He flings you over to his side and places his hand over your shoulder, while you both silently devour your hotteoks. 
“This was a nice date.” You mumble tentatively, and oh. That’s what this is? A date? He wants to turn around and ask you for your name. Where are you from? Why am I here again? He wants to scream it out until his lungs hurt and he gets an answer that makes sense, but no matter how much he tries, his throat will not allow those words to tumble out of his lips.  
Why don’t I remember you?
Instead, he replies: “Yeah, it was. This was fun.” He tilts his head down to smile at you and Namjoon finds himself nervous. Nervous enough that his hands are shaking against his will, but he tells himself that the sweat and the nervousness are all side effects of the swampy heat this summer. 
You beam at him and Namjoon thinks you’re an angel. You lean up onto his chest to place a soft kiss onto his lips and Namjoon thinks about when he’s going to be thrown back out of his head. 
“Wanna go home?” He asks, nudging at the sky, which is already filled up with first streaks of the sunset. Purple hues and pinks and blues that all blend together nicely. You watch the sky for a moment.
“Never.” You offer no explanation after that and Namjoon doesn’t pry. He feels like he understands you, which is scarier than any other encounter he’s faced, in real life and in here. You stare up at him more intensely, and a shudder of fear runs down Namjoon’s back. “I just want to stay here forever,” You enunciate, like you want him to remember this. “Just Y/N and Namjoon.” 
Something tugs in his chest and Namjoon screams in his head, no. Longer. Not now. He slips away, gone, disappeared from the world before he can even tell you how pretty your name is. And he awakens back at the bus, where the driver is shaking him and yelling at him to get out. 
Namjoon walks home in the rain, yelling out your name in happiness until his neighbours come over politely asking him to shut the fuck up. 
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“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N… Y/N?” He keeps repeating the name over and over again, enough to make Seokjin annoyed, who has moved away from Namjoon’s desk to the sofa in his office just to escape the random spiel that Namjoon is hurriedly rushing through. 
“I can’t find a single Y/N in here!” Namjoon cries frustratingly, and the corners of Seokjin’s eyes soften in something that is either pity or empathy. He discards his non-fiction novel about drag queens and wigs to come over and clap a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder. 
“My friend, my crazy, idiotic, slightly insane friend.” Seokjin bends down. “You’ve checked all your yearbooks, social media, archives, newspapers… Have you perhaps considered that this person wasn’t that important? Just a passing stranger?”
“No.” Namjoon shoots down stubbornly. “They appear far too often for them not to be important.” So Seokjin shrugs, leaving Namjoon to, once again, search through the Facebook friends of a friend of a friend of a friend. 
But no Y/N’s pop up, and he’s wondering if Y/N was just a nickname. Was it even your real name? With a sigh and one single (rather impressive) agitated brow wave, he lets go and spills. He tells Seokjin about how he finally learned your name, about the places you’ve been together and how much you adore street food. 
He appreciates Seokjin for being a good friend, for sitting there and not interrupting to call him a crazy person, even if he is most certainly thinking about it in his head. Because Seokjin, at least, knows about a miniscule part of Namjoon’s tragic life. He doesn’t understand, but he gets it, and that’s all Namjoon needs in a friend. 
He doesn’t tell Seokjin about how soft and pillowy your lips feel against his, he doesn’t tell you how much he longs to do unspeakable things to you when you show up in those blue short shorts. He definitely doesn’t tell him how much he loves your name. 
Seokjin suggests a number of things. That perhaps you are a character from long ago, or maybe a passing stranger Namjoon once had a summer fling with. You may be someone long forgotten like a mutual friend in high school or college. He also suggests a psychiatric hospital to screw his head back on (as a joke, Namjoon’s pretty sure.) 
But none of those seem right. Namjoon does his best to explain, he really does. For an award winning journalist and aspiring writer, he does just about a terrible job of trying to string his words together. Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose and falls back onto the sofa, already spacing out. Namjoon weakly cries out that he knows you. He really does - he just doesn’t remember how, or why. 
Like a puzzle with a few missing pieces. 
He wonders when and if the missing pieces will ever make their way over to him. 
Namjoon gives up and flops down onto the sofa next to Jin, who squeaks out various protests about how heavy he is and how stupidly huge his arms have gotten after he started working out, along the lines of comparing him to Jungkook and calling him a gym rat. 
As usual, Namjoon doesn’t listen. 
It’s difficult to explain the feeling of falling to someone who hasn’t experienced it. The cursed Click echoes out and suddenly, the world spins around, the axis breaks and he’s physically thrown into another time, another place… another memory that he can’t seem to recall. His stomach lurches, his head hurts and there’s a small breeze flowing in. 
For a short moment, the loops of space and time are completely open to him. He can’t see it, but he can feel it. It flips his mind completely upside down and boom. He’s in a specific, random time and place. His body feels light, and every step he takes, he can physically feel it: He doesn’t belong here. He isn’t supposed to be here. Everything feels different. Even the air is more smoky, because something in this world is suddenly wrong, and it’s him. 
The next time he meets you, he is in just about the worst place to fall. Sitting in a press conference, his stomach drops and he’s dreading the fall. Namjoon can already hear his boss screaming at him, and he desperately tries to root himself to his seat, typing whatever the assemblyman is yapping on and on about. About farming and agriculture and tax cuts… 
Click. 
He can distantly hear the assemblyman candidate talk about corrupt government workers as he’s thrusted out of his world and into another. 
The memory he has the pleasure to be in this time is something not too unfamiliar. For a second, he thinks if this is just a normal day of him in his cramped, tiny city apartment. Until he turns around and realises you’re lying right next to him, sound asleep and nuzzling into the side of his neck. 
The air is crisp. It’s spring, not winter anymore, and he can hear the flower petals outside his apartment complex falling lightly on the ground. This, Namjoon thinks, may just be the best memory he’s been in. The press conference and his life and his boss slips his mind and he cradles you in his chest, holding you closer and closing his eyes shut. 
“Mm?” You mumble, half asleep. “You’re suffocating me.” You hoarsely call out, and Namjoon releases you with an insincere apology. He brushes the hair out of your hair and grins, framing you in his head. He reaches to his alarm clock, which is right next to his bed as it always is to check the time. 
April 1st, 2017. 
Oh god, Namjoon winces. This means he still has that god awful haircut right now. He reaches up to feel his head, and sure enough, the horrible slicked back bleached hair is still there, an unfortunate result of his friend Hoseok daring him to drunk dye his hair. 
“You’re awake?” He asks you, and you nod slowly. 
He wonders if this memory precedes or follows the one he had with you last time, and he desperately hopes things are going in chronological order. He wants to know you just as much as you know him. Namjoon naively prays to whatever deity that controls his dreamworld: Please follow things step by step, follow the clock. 
You roll around, saying something he can’t really catch. He asks you what you said and for the first time today, you peel open your eyes directly facing him. Namjoon’s heart almost falls out of his ass, seeing your eyes bore into his own. 
“Where’s my morning kiss?” You ask cutely, nudging his nose with your own button nose. 
“Right here.” He finds himself saying, leaning in to close the inches in between your two faces. You taste like hotteok, even early in the morning. You taste like a spring day and a never ending forever. As your lips capture his and his everything is consumed by thoughts of you, Namjoon begs himself to kiss you harder. 
His past self declines politely, and Namjoon thinks about whether this counts as himself being controlled if he himself is still controlling what he says and does. 
In that moment, listening to your slow breathing and someone across the street playing simple, melodic piano chords, Namjoon tells himself: Do not ever forget April 1st, 2017. You rise from the bed and some form of protest bubbles up from Namjoon’s mouth, to which you just laugh and drag him out of bed with the excuse of wanting breakfast. 
You push him into the bathroom, where he expects to meet his sad single grey towel and foggy mirror. You push him in front, and he cringes at the sight of his hair in the mirror. You sigh. 
“Calm down. The blonde looks sexy. You can dye it back black later.” He laughs, because it’s clearly not very sexy. For once, his past self is doing exactly what the current Namjoon is pleading him to do. Does it count as reliving your memories if someone else was living through them originally? But, he reminds himself while you hand him a green toothbrush and squeeze a dollop of toothpaste on both your toothbrushes, this is him. He lived through this once and he is just taking a trip down memory lane. 
The person who lived through this before was him. 
He has to remind himself many more times before it sinks in. 
You brush your teeth next to him, fluffing your hair and squinting in the mirror to wake yourself up. Without a second of hesitation, Namjoon brings the toothbrush up and starts to brush his teeth. Nothing has ever felt more domestic or right than this, despite the tentative steps and heavy lead feeling in his throat telling him he still isn’t supposed to be here. 
You spit out toothpaste in the sink to gargle your mouth and Namjoon mimics you exactly. Somehow, you find yourselves in the kitchen, giggling while making some sort of french toast with an abundance of cinnamon floating through the air. Which makes Namjoon cough and makes you laugh even harder. 
“This is a perfect morning.” You say, peering out the window to watch the city life slowly bustling to life. People scrambling out their doors, ushering their children or pets with them. People you don’t recognise going on walks or runs. Mailmen and delivery people dropping off packages and people yelling into their phones as they hurriedly walk along the sidewalk. 
And you and Namjoon, calmly staying in your pajamas while frying toast on the pan. 
“Is something burning?” You ask, sniffing the air, and Namjoon’s blood runs cold. 
“Oh, shit!” 
You smile and shake your head while Namjoon attempts to save the blackened piece of bread to no avail. He catches sight of the corners of your mouth lifting, even as you chastise him about watching the stove and ranting on about how you’re never going to trust him in the kitchen again. Namjoon watches your pink lips, stained with a brown mudge of cinnamon french toast mixture, which lifts up and your head falls back, hair flowing around your head like a halo. 
Your laugh plays out in front of him in slow motion, and absentmindedly, he thanks that deity he prayed to for slowing this moment down. Because if there’s anything he yearns most to remember, it’s the way you laugh. A chuckle makes its way out of his own throat as well, and he’s not sure who’s in control at the moment. 
Himself or himself in the past?
Either way, they both did the right thing. Namjoon forgets. He forgets the life he has back home, he forgets Seokjin’s warnings, he forgets that he has at least a hundred articles waiting for him at work to be written. He forgets that this world is nothing but a chance for him to follow the footsteps of what he once did, with no control to say or do anything he wishes to do himself. 
But, oh, he really can’t bring himself to care. 
Those piano chords from before blend together beautifully, and you scrape the black toast into the garbage can, still teasing him relentlessly, and oh. Oh, this is what it means to have a home. You made this junk of a house into a home, and he feels like he has to return here. This is where he’s meant to return to, everyday. Each time. 
You turn around after discarding the toast and with a bright smile, you ask him to kiss you again. Namjoon thinks that he doesn’t ever have the capability to deny you when you smile like that, so he complies and crashes his lips onto yours. 
The lead, heavy feeling in his throat is still weighing him down. Except Namjoon isn’t sure whether it’s weighing him down to this world or the real world.
 The cursed deity pulls him back, pulling him through the time and space back to his own responsibilities and life. His heart is wrenched out and he reaches out, trying to grasp your hand for the last time. He falls back to his own world in a hospital bed and an IV attached to his arm with half a piece of french toast dangling in his mouth and another promise he makes with himself to meet you again with a smile on his face. 
Memories… memories that he’s lived through but can’t remember. Memories he slips into to live momentarily through the actions and words of his old self. 
Somewhere along the line of diving back and forth his own life and this past one, he has forgotten which is which. 
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“Most likely due to exhaustion. Lack of sleep, lack of rest. It’s quite common with working young adults, workaholics. I’m putting him on medical leave for the rest of the week. He needs a rest - He needed it yesterday. Don’t worry too much, Mrs. Kim. A long nap and a meal or two will fix him right back up.” Namjoon groggily registers the white walls and beeping noises, the chatter of doctors and nurses rushing around. 
He’s in a hospital, and a rush of fear runs straight through his blood. He sits up to eye his mother, sitting next to him and holding his hand. She shushes him, laying him back down on the bed, but all he can do is panic. 
“No, not here. Not here again.” He mumbles incoherently. His mother puts a hand over his eyes, shushing him again and telling him softly to go back to sleep. He doesn’t want to go to sleep, he wants to get out of here. But his eyelids are already feeling heavy and he weakly fights against his body, but before he can even process it, his eyes are shut and he is asleep. 
Seeing her son close his eyes and drift off to sleep, Mrs. Kim turns back to the doctor. 
“I’m not surprised,” She starts. “He’s always worked himself to the bone. But that’s not what I’m worried about. I’m worried about his brain.” The doctor cocks his head and looks through the papers which are clipped to a clipboard in his arms. 
“Ah, yes. I see he was in a car accident a few years ago.” Doctors are some of the most heartless people, and you can always tell how experienced a doctor is by how much sympathy they show. This doctor shows none at all, which must mean he’s been working for a long time. 
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Kim.” The doctor continues, peering over Namjoon’s sleeping body. “I see he suffered light effects after the accident. Selective amnesia, no external damages to the skull. He didn’t suffer as much. In fact, I believe the doctor in charge believed that the amnesia was mostly due to the shock of the event. But he’s received treatment for PTSD since then, right?” 
Mrs. Kim nods. 
“Good. Doctor Park also noted at the time that his amnesia actually didn’t affect much of his memory. He couldn’t remember distant relatives or kindergarten friends, but that seemed to be the extent of his amnesia. Oh,” The doctor slipped through the clipboard. “He also couldn’t remember certain knowledge about philosophers such as Freud, which he was, quote, ‘devastated over’ un-quote.” 
Mrs. Kim stays silent. 
“So, you don’t have to worry too much. Best thing your son could do for his well being is rest. And a therapist if he has a relapse or shows some symptoms such as sleep difficulties or nightmares, or physical signs like fatigue and nausea.” 
Mrs. Kim nods. “Thank you, doctor.”
That’s it, and she turns back to her son, with her hand in his. She stays there, unmoving until he opens his eyes, mumbling incoherent questions and asking his mother why he is in the hospital again, demanding to be discharged immediately. Her heart breaks a little, small cracks form for her beloved son and she kisses him on the forehead, telling him he’d be out of here in no time. 
“What did you see?” She asks quietly, and Namjoon is surprised. She never asks him about his memory walks. It’s taboo to mention it in his household. Not even his sister is comfortable talking about it. “Anything? At all? You passed out at a rather unfortunate time, I heard.” She continues. 
“Nothing much.” Namjoon replies, lying through his teeth and trying to justify it with the sight of your laugh. He leans back and closes his eyes once more, bringing up his memories of you and your bedhead. He tries to fill the gap inside of him with thoughts of you, as if that can make up for the empty feeling that he’s forgetting something. 
In the hospital, staring at a white ceiling and glaring lights, Namjoon is left to think about what’s happening to his head. During the end of his rather short stay, he comes up with a terrifying conclusion. One that scares him more than he could imagine, but it’s the only one that makes sense. He’s falling in love with you. 
He voices out this concern to Seokjin when he visits after his mother leaves. Seokjin stays silent, mumbling out an apology that feels like the wrong thing to say. The elder boy can only look at his friend with sadness in his eyes, telling him that someone as great as Namjoon shouldn’t be suffering so much pain. Namjoon jokes that a witch must have cursed him when he was born. 
None of the two friends laugh. 
This routine continues on and on, without Namjoon dwelling too much on it. Which is so much unlike Namjoon, whose main personality trait is overthinking about the smallest things. He lets the flow of time and space take him wherever they wish to plop him down. He lets the evil deity toy with his heart and wrench him away whenever you smile the largest. 
It hurts right after he is torn away from you, but he’s filled with so much joy in the moment that he can’t bring himself to do anything else about it. Even if he wanted to do something without it, he has no idea where on earth he might start. 
Sometimes he questions the validity of his memories. What is real, what is fake? He still can’t answer, and this is what he spends most of his time wondering about. The memories he has with you don’t make sense. Those are large gaps in his life that he seems to have no recollection of. 
He goes everywhere with you. 
One day he showed up on November 5th, 2015. 
The next day he jumped to August 23rd, 2017. 
Another time, he was thrown into March 15th, 2016. 
None of it makes sense. Are they not memories? He thinks. There’s no possible way he’s spent this much of his life with you and can’t recall any of it. What is real - the world he spends with you, or the world where he always returns to by default?
And yet, nothing else can explain these short periods of blackouts. Ever since one day in some horrible hospital, he’s gone under and pulled and thrusted into some land where he has no control over his own hands. Everything else makes sense. This world, everything else is accurate from the settings to the props, with one anomaly in his memory. 
A character who goes by the name of Y/N. 
He could go the science-y logic route that he so often frequents, come up with theories that can somewhat explain these periods of time. Theories that include explanations such as hallucinations, or that Seokjin’s right and he’s finally gone crazy. You’re just a figment of his imagination, that this is all in his head and he’s out of his mind. 
But he rejects all those theories when he’s clicked into another memory. Somehow, he just understands. These are memories. These are memories he’s had with you, whether that was in a past life or in some sort of messed up alternate timeline where he’s actually happy. 
Is this a gift or another curse from this stupid deity?
He has too many questions. 
He cannot explain these memories using science, logic, common sense, or even using his own words. But in the moment, while you’re in his arms, he can feel it. He can explain it by describing the way you smell, like pancakes and fresh mint. He can explain it by describing the way you feel, like a warm marshmallow filling up his insides and consuming him. 
It’s cheesy, cringier than Seokjin’s dad jokes, but only he gets it. 
Namjoon is in his living room, switching channels on the TV and thinking about this when his stomach sinks again. He braces himself, and disappears. 
Click.
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Seoul is freezing cold. The air is light and he is sitting on a bench on his college campus, rubbing his hands together and zipping up his huge jacket over his sweater. Namjoon shudders, his body not yet used to the bite of the cold compared to the warm breeze he was just enjoying. 
He sniffles, nose slightly red like some knockoff Rudolph and wanders around. His body pulls him to go to the right, despite the warm coffee shop being on the left. He shudders again and tries to protest, but his body won’t listen, standing up and walking over to the right with no particular destination in mind. Students are rushing around, complaining about the cold and talking about their next party or study session. 
Namjoon pulls himself forwards, and thank god this version of himself still has terrible tolerance for the cold, because he reaches up and pulls his beanie down over his ears, still wandering around aimlessly. Where are you going? Namjoon wants to scream out frustratingly. 
His brain doesn’t reply and Namjoon sulks. 
Eventually, he is pulled over to another bench, outside in the cold, and he sits down, deeply resenting himself and wondering why on earth he just stood up from one bench to walk to another one. If anything, it’s colder here. He watches the students that pass by for a minute or two, thinking that this is the most boring memory he’s ever been in. 
There is no snow falling, but almost everything on campus is lined with a sheet of ice or cold steam. Namjoon nuzzles deeper into his own clothes, cursing himself for not being able to go buy another sweater or something to fight the extreme cold. 
Suddenly, you appear in front of him and Namjoon perks up. There you are. He thinks. Finally. You come over and sit down, holding something in your hands. He smiles, waiting for you to speak up and greet him with a kiss that will surely warm him up, but you silently sit next to him, ignoring him. Namjoon urges himself to say something, but instead, he continues to watch the students bustling through campus grounds without looking at you. 
Are we fighting? Is Y/N mad at me? 
This is excruciatingly frustrating, Namjoon bites his tongue and thinks. Why can’t he just say something? Abruptly, something lands on his jacket with a splat and he straightens up, snapping his neck towards you, who is looking at the yogurt splat on his jacket with a look of terror. 
“Oh my gosh!” You squeak out, quickly setting your yogurt aside and reaching for some tissues in your purse. “Oh, god, oh god, I’m so sorry. Please, let me-” Namjoon frowns, taking his hands out of his pockets to thumb at his jacket, debating whether he wants to take it off or not. 
You lean over, pawing at his jacket and wiping the yogurt off of his jacket. “I’m so sorry!” 
“No, don’t worry.” Namjoon says, chuckling. He reaches for another tissue, helping you get the yogurt off of him. “It’s no big deal.” The yogurt is mostly wiped off and you side eye him with the unmistakable look of guilt filling your eyes. Namjoon laughs again. 
“It’s fine, really! No, don’t worry about it.”
“I’m literally so sorry. Do you want me to pay for dry cleaning? Laundry? I can, um, wash it for you! I’m not the best at laundry, but it’s the least I could do?” 
Namjoon briefly wonders why you’re being so polite. 
“No, it’s fine.” The words tumble out his mouth again before he can process it. “Really, this jacket is old, anyway.” Not really, Namjoon thinks. It feels really new. “But who the hell eats cold yogurt in this kind of weather?” He jokes. “You sure you’re not a demon?”
You freeze, terrified before realising he was cracking a joke. “Oh. Hah! Yeah, no, I guess I just really like yogurt.” You offer lamely, and you break out into a small giggle. “Yeah, I guess I kind of am a psycho for eating it right now. It’s freezing today.” 
“God, tell me about it.” Namjoon says, stuffing his hands back into his pockets. 
“Thanks for not going bonkers on me. This jacket looks insanely expensive.” 
“Not really.”
“I’m Y/N.” You greet, holding a hand out for him to shake. I know, Namjoon thinks with a secret smile, but everything makes sense now. You don’t know him yet. To you in this moment in time, he’s just a random stranger who didn’t blow up on you after spraying some yogurt onto you. To him, you’re… you’re… 
“Oh, um, I’m Namjoon.” He says, hurriedly taking a hand out of his pocket to shake your outstretched hand. Your fingers meet and Namjoon swears a small zap just went through his hand. 
“Namjoon. Nice to meet you, Namjoon.” You say with a small smile, yogurt already long forgotten on the bench beside you two. 
“It’s nice to meet you too.” He says in return, even though he doesn’t mean it. He already knows you, he knows you better than everyone. He knows your favourite food is Korean street food, and you always wake him up with kisses and your favourite colour is periwinkle and you absolutely hate abalone with more passion than he’s ever seen in his entire life.
But this is your first time seeing him, ever, he reminds himself. This is your meet cute. This single moment set off the events in the next god knows how many years. This is the first time he ever had your name grace his tongue. This is the first time you’ve seen him. 
Another moment to treasure. You let go of his hand, after realising you two have been shaking hands for much longer than the socially acceptable rate of hand shaking. Blushing, either from the cold or humiliation, you sit, turn back around, grabbing a hold of your yogurt once more. 
Suddenly, Namjoon finds himself blurting out: “Hey, you wanna go get some coffee?” You look over curiously, pointing to yourself like you can’t believe he’s asking you out, because you don’t know that you’re all he ever thinks about at any given moment in any given day. “You’ll probably freeze your ass off if you keep eating that yogurt.” He jokes, pretending like this is all because he’s caring about how cold you are and not how cute or incredible or kind you are. 
“Sure.” You say, nodding shyly. He stands up, leading you to walk over to the left where the campus coffee shop is. Along the way, you throw the yogurt cup in the trash. 
“You can’t bring food brought from outside into a shop, right?” You ask. 
Namjoon smiles. “Yeah.” He stays there until night takes over the sky and one single twinkling star in the sky is signalling that it’s time to go home. Possibly the longest time he’s ever spent in a memory. He keeps glancing at the clock, praying that he gets one more minute with you, one more second, one more moment. 
At any time, he could be pulled out of this world, and he needs to make the most of it. You tell him about your childhood bedroom and your major. You tell him about the love you have for pancakes, and how much you want a puppy even though it’s prohibited in the on campus dorms. He nods, pretending like this is all new information even though it’s not, and he’s known all of this for the longest time. He knows you better than you know yourself, which he keeps to himself. 
In return, he tells you about his own childhood bedroom, which was adorned with posters of western hip hop rappers. He tells you about his passions for writing and music, that if he didn’t major in journalism, he’d be studying music production in school. He tells you that he’s obsessed with philosophy, and in all honesty, is a bit of a nerd. 
Instead of laughing or pulling a face, you nod and smile, saying that you think he should tell you more about philosophy on a second date. 
You leave the coffee shop with a small goodbye, and even though he desperately wants to, Namjoon can’t kiss you. 
He gets pulled back after you disappear pass the corner of the street, and the world morphes into a huge motion blur. When he gets pulled back into his living room, the TV is playing late night TV shows already. Namjoon checks the time. He was pulled in for five hours, the longest he’s ever been in that world. 
After that, no matter how much more he prays and begs, he never stays any longer than that. 
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Three days later, Namjoon suddenly pops into Hong Kong, which is hotter than anything he’s ever felt. The streets are heavy with people, squabbling in cantonese while selling raw meats in a wet market. The sun is glaringly bright, and Namjoon starts to sweat almost instantaneously. Taxis and huge buses drive past, Namjoon jumps to a side only to find a vast ocean. He’s at the harbour front. 
The smell of food, of egg tarts and pineapple buns and meat dumplings along with other Hong Kong delicacies waft through the air, combined with the salty air of the sea. It makes for a strange combination that confuses his senses but works nonetheless. 
He thought he knew a city like Seoul, but this is a true city. This is busy and fast paced like he’s never even seen before. People shove each other aside to catch the bus, dogs are yapping everywhere and he soaks it all in before the thought enters his head.
What the hell is he doing in Hong Kong?
It’s like every time he wonders aloud, you pop up. “I’ve been looking for you.” You say, echoing the words he said to you that day in the streets of Seoul. 
“I was exploring!“ He says defensively, and you roll your eyes. 
“Come on.” You say, walking along the harbour front. 
“You’re not still mad at me, are you?” Namjoon asks, the words spilling out and surprising himself. Are you mad at him? You’ve never been mad at him before, not in the memories he’s seen. He hasn’t ever seen you fight with him, and immediately, he wants to apologise, fix things before he’s pulled back out and he has to live with the guilt and overthinking of whether you’re still mad at him for the next week. 
“Can’t believe you’re mad at me during our vacation.” Namjoon says, and that’s why he’s in Hong Kong, he realises. He’s on vacation. How strange. Namjoon thinks back to when the last time he took a break from work and the only thing he can think of is when that doctor put him on medical leave not too long ago. Oh no, you’re mad at him on holiday?
“Well, what am I supposed to do?” You retort back, and Namjoon has never heard your voice this curt. “Just sit around pretending like everything's okay?”
“What do you want me to do?” Namjoon replies. “You act like this is my fault!” 
“It is your fault!” You cry out indignantly, and Namjoon knows that, but why? What did he do? What did you do? “Is this even a vacation?”
“Yes!” Namjoon cries out again in response, and you shake your head. 
“You promised, Namjoon.” You say like it’s a warning. 
“Yes, I know,” Namjoon says, even though he doesn’t and really, what on earth did he do? “But this is out of my hands! I can’t just say no, you’re not looking at this from my point of view.”
“You’re not looking at this from my point of view!” You argue back, and Namjoon looks around, realising that this squabble is attracting a small crowd of chinese people, gathering around to watch the free entertainment along the sidewalk of Victoria harbour. He awkwardly laughs, raising his hand and bows, a universal sign of apology, grabbing your hand and walking to the other direction. 
“Come on, I’d rather not have the whole city witness our fight.”
“Oh, so this is a fight now?” 
“What? Yes!” Namjoon says exasperatedly. “How else would you classify this argument?” 
Once he makes it to somewhere with at least a sliver of privacy, he turns around with his brows furrowed and a glare etched on his features. Why do you look so angry? Namjoon chastises himself. Just relax, relax, relax. As usual, his body doesn’t listen. 
“Why are you so mad at this?” Namjoon asks, and feels a flow of relief go down his spine. Finally. 
“It’s not just this instance, Joon. I know work is important, but sometimes it feels like you put literally anything else above me! Like last time? You bailed on our date, like, at least twice. You keep saying you can’t say no, but you can. You have that right, Namjoon.” 
Namjoon’s heart softens a little bit. His workaholic tendencies ended up biting him in the ass after all. Sighing he rubs the back of his neck, eyes glued to the floor. “I’m not prioritising work over you, baby.” He tries to explain, and tries to ignore how his heart sinks when your eyes turn stony at the sound of the pet name he often uses to address you. 
“It’s just important to me as well, okay? It’s not my fault my boss heard I was going to Hong Kong and insisted I come to interview some investors about Hong Kong’s economy.” He explains slowly. “It couldn’t take more than a single day to get everything organised and tidied up.” 
“But-!” You huff angrily, spitting out your words. “You don’t understand! You keep doing this, Namjoon. You keep working, working, working. It’s been this way since college. It’s like you’ll die if you just take a break to come talk to me. I even went over to your office to have lunch with you last week and they told me you were in a meeting.” 
“It was important!” Namjoon insists and he can feel things sinking and getting worse and worse with every word he says. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? You can’t expect me to put you in front of all of my responsibilities. I’m sure you have things you can’t give up for me too.”
Hearing that felt like a slap to the face to both you and Namjoon, and he’s screaming at himself internally, why would you say something so, so, stupid?
“Excuse me?” Your broken voice rings out and Namjoon’s accusatory finger falls. 
“Wait.” He mumbles, fumbling with his hands. “Wait, I didn’t mean that. Wait, I-” 
“Fine!” You yell angrily. “You think nothing’s more important than work? You think I haven’t given up anything for you, Kim Namjoon? Because I’d quit and give up anything for you, you asshole.” You bite out, tears desperately trying not to fall. “You fucking asshole.” You say, before turning back around to weave through the crowd. 
“No, wait, baby!” He calls out, and even he knows that he’s messed up. Messed up big time. That was more hurtful than any cuss word or insult he could’ve ever said. “Kim fucking Namjoon, you idiot.” He mumbles to himself. Seeing you cry is more painful than anything else in the world, Namjoon thinks. He’s not ever going to see that sight again if he can help it. 
He walks forward, trying to find you. Maybe you went back to the hotel, or went to look at the sea to clear your head. He thinks he sees the back of your head for a second, and he reaches forward, clutching at air. He’s about to cry, and Namjoon has never seen himself be more pathetic. 
“Oh no, where are you?” He murmurs to himself like a crazed man. What if you were hurt somewhere? He needs to know you’re safe, he needs to know you’re okay, he needs to make everything better. With each step, the lead feeling in his throat grows heavier and heavier until he feels like it’s sunk to his chest. He wants to kneel down, he wants it to stop hurting, but he can’t. 
He must aimlessly follow his shell to do whatever he is doing now. 
The lead feeling continues to grow, and Namjoon feels like he’s suffocating. He’s not supposed to be here, he reminds himself. But he has to find you first, then he can leave. Then he can go, but where are you? He wants to cry, he wants to breathe. 
Namjoon tells himself to gasp for air, but he cannot. He tells himself if this is the last time he ever sees you, he needs to see you smile. He needs to see you laugh. 
Like the pattern in the rest of his meaningless life, an evil deity always pulls him away from the ones he loves when he needs them most. He feels the lead feeling being lifted and pure panic races to Namjoon’s head. He tries to croak out no. He tries to resist, he shoves people aside and calls out your name. But no one answers him, and the cruel deity laughs at his demise. 
He is too weak, too weak to control himself. 
Namjoon is plucked out of the world and transported back to his bedroom with the threads of time slowly ravelling and tangling themselves around his neck, all while he reaches forward, only to grasp at air and pretend in his head that everything’s alright. 
When he reaches his bedroom and wakes up, he stumbles into the bathroom and vomits, all while longing for the warmth of your lips.
-
Walking around dazedly, Namjoon somehow manages to make his way to Seokjin and Jimin’s apartment, knocking and hoarsely asking them to open, open up please. Because he’s not sure he can hold on to another night alone. Jimin opens the door instantly and catches Namjoon in his arms, frantically calling for Seokjin to come fast. 
They lay him on the couch, hearts slowly breaking and trying to convince themselves their friend will be fine as they watch Namjoon whimper in his sleep. 
Namjoon wakes to the smell of breakfast, of bacon on the stove and Jimin chattering around while watering his plants. He gets up, headache pounding and throat sore. Seokjin wordlessly hands him a few pills and a glass of water, while Jimin plates up breakfast, placing the sausage, eggs and toast separately on the plate because Namjoon can’t stand it when food on his plate touches. 
Silently, the three friends eat. Nobody speaks until Namjoon clears his throat and looks up. 
“Thank you.“ He whispers. 
“What are friends for?” Jimin says. 
Namjoon wonders why he’s got such amazing friends. Jin replies that he was born perfect and God created him like this, so Namjoon shouldn’t dwell too much on it. Jimin and Namjoon both throw a spoon of scrambled eggs in his direction simultaneously, high fiving without missing a beat when Jin lets out a protest of unjust behaviour. 
 As the three friends sit quietly, Namjoon says: “I think I’m going mad.”
“I’m glad you’ve realised.” Seokjin replies offhandedly. 
“I don’t think I can keep going between these worlds. I think it’s making me lose my mind.” 
Jimin stills. Seokjin stops washing the dishes and turns off the faucet. 
“Do… do you know how to stop it?” Jimin asks hesitantly. Namjoon shakes his head, and Seokjin sighs, in deep thought, which is a strange and rare sight to see itself. 
“Well, I guess we’ll have to figure this out together.” Seokjin says casually. Jimin agrees and the faucet comes back on, Seokjin going straight back to washing the pan he used to fry up the scrambled eggs. Jimin unplugs the toaster and Namjoon sits, smiling at his beloved friends. 
“You can borrow some of my shirts.” Jimin calls from the bathroom. “You know, if you want to stay over a couple more nights. Feel free.”
“Make yourself at home and shit.” Seokjin mutters, waving his hand around sarcastically. Namjoon almost bursts out into tears of happiness, but he decides to hold it in until Seokjin doesn’t have access to his phone and won’t put Namjoon’s breakdown on instagram live. 
The next day, the entire gang comes over, all with varying degrees of understanding what the hell is going on with Namjoon. For example, Yoongi pretty much knows as much as Seokjin does, who still doesn’t really understand what’s going on. Taehyung was just told Namjoon’s been feeling down because God knows that boy has a big mouth and definitely can’t keep a secret to save his life. 
Seokjin supplies homemade snacks and burgers fresh off the grill, Yoongi brings over his unlimited Netflix and HBO account passwords he probably stole off of some innocent family member to watch Disney movies, Taehyung comes over with Yeontan clutched to his side because that’s the group's emotional support dog. Jungkook and Hoseok offer up their extensive alcohol collection and bring over some quality wines. Jimin, after a long three hours of consideration, gives up his lucky plushies and fluffy blankets to build a fort. 
For one night, the seven boys crowds around the television, watching everything from The Lorax to Tangled to Frozen and bawling their eyes out when Anna turned to ice (spoiler alert!!!) For one night, the fully grown men all turn back into their 8 year old selves, playing video games and staying up as late as they wanted even though they all had responsibilities to tend to the next day. 
When they all awake from their mega-sleepover the next morning, the remaining six friends all insist they just felt like watching Disney movies and drinking wine suddenly. It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that Namjoon’s been feeling a little off in the past few days. 
Absolutely not. 
Namjoon’s eyes brim with tears and he tackles all the boys to the ground in one incredibly coordinated group hug, ignoring Yoongi’s complaints of being anti-social and that his love language is not physical touch. 
“Thanks, guys.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Jungkook mutters. “Now could you please get the fuck off?” 
“Never.” Namjoon says, muffled because he says it while his head is buried in Hoseok’s chest. 
“Love you.”
“... Love you too.” 
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The next time he falls, Namjoon thinks he’s prepared. Ready, not to get attached, ready to make clear of what belongs in his world and what doesn’t, after lots of pep talks and therapy sessions with Seokjin and Jimin and Yoongi, who is surprisingly helpful with shooting down ideals of toxic masculinity and talking about mental health. 
He’s wrong- he’s not ready, but he doesn’t know that yet. 
Click. 
He’s come to resent that stupid sound. In an instant, he’s dropped into a car, which is strangely familiar. You are next to him, driving, and thank goodness, because everyone knows Namjoon cannot drive. If he were dropped in the driver’s seat, things may have taken a turn for the worse. 
“You want to play some music?” You ask, and Namjoon nods. 
“Yeah sure, turn up the radio.” You reach over to flip a switch and a pretty tune fills the car, echoing and bouncing off the walls of the small vessel. You bring your hand down and interlace it with Namjoon’s, who is suddenly hyper aware of his surroundings. 
“You’re driving, baby.” He says, and a great sense of relief floods back into his system when he sees you smile at the pet name. He hopes this moment is after the Hong Kong trip. He hopes he did the right thing and made up with you afterwards. 
“We always do this. When there’s not many cars around, anyway.” You hum along with the music. “Nobody’s on the road tonight.” Sure enough, there are no cars in sight and Namjoon sighs, curling his hand tight against yours. He looks out the window. 
“No stars tonight, either.” 
You snort. “There are never any stars around the city, babe.”
“Ahh.” He huffs playfully. “Fuck global warming.”
“Fuck capatalism.” You add on, and he nods, wholeheartedly agreeing. 
“I love you.” He murmurs. 
“I love you too.” You reply with a sweet smile and Namjoon just realises that no, he’s not ready to let go of you, because his heart still flips like crazy when he hears you say that. He’s so unbearably, horribly, absolutely in love with you. Not in a creepy or obsessive way like he was probably in love with you a few months ago, but so in love with you. 
He wonders why on earth he’s so drawn to you, but as usual, there’s no definite answers to his questions. Namjoon thinks about how he likes the way you cook pancakes, and how he likes the way you always reach down to pet a puppy no matter where you are or where you need to be. He loves the way you’d give up anything to defend the people you love. He admires your bravery and your courage. He admires the way you present yourself to the world. 
He loves you simply because you are who you are, unapologetically and unashamed, which is something he never had the guts to do. But he gets pretty damn near to being fully and truly himself when he’s around you, so maybe that’s why he’s so in love with you. 
Namjoon feels bad for a moment because he realises his love isn’t selfless or humble like the ones he sees on dramas and TV. His love for you is shamefully selfish, because he needs you more than anything else. He voices this out to you in a long speech while you keep your eyes on the road. 
“I need you more than you think I do, Joon.” You say, while laughing, and Namjoon doesn’t know whether to feel offended or relieved. 
“You think your love for me can trump my love for you?” He asks with his eyebrows raised.
“One hundred percent.” You drawl out, and this time, Namjoon’s offended. 
“Excuse me? Who the fuck?” He asks, sitting up. You laugh bashfully, enamoured but mostly just entertained by your needy boyfriend who is very willing to prove how much more he loves you right now. “I love you way more than you love me!” 
You laugh, your eyes still fixed on the road. “Oh no, please, we’re not arguing about this.”
“Yes we are!” Namjoon demands with a huge smile on his face. “How could you possibly think you love me more than I love you?” Your laugh only grows louder. 
“I don’t even know if you’re being serious or just joking around anymore.” You say through bit back laughter. 
“I’m being dead serious.” Namjoon softens for a bit, laying a hand on your thigh. “You’re my everything. You’re my future, you’re my present, you’re my past.” A part of you wants to tell him he’s being cheesy again, but the romantic in you who doesn’t want to hurt your boyfriend immediately shuts the realist in you up. 
“That was sweet.”
“I try my best.”
You turn your head back to the road and he keeps his eyes on you. On the hoodie you’re wearing, which definitely doesn’t belong to you and he now has a certain inkling of where his missing hoodie went. He likes how it swallows you up. He likes that you have something of his on you. 
Not as a weird mark of possession, but he likes that you’re comfortable with wearing something that essentially brands you as his. But you are his as much as he is yours and wow, Namjoon thinks in his head, is this the real Namjoon or the past Namjoon speaking? And his brain replies that it’s both. 
“I love you.” He repeats, because as much as he seems to say it, he can’t seem to express how much he loves you (hint: it’s a large amount). 
“I love you too.” You say right back. 
He wants to say it more. He wants to say it better. He wants to repeat it until you get annoyed and tell him to shut up, he wants to let you know how much he loves you. But his lips are sealed, and he can’t say another word. Instead of what he wants to say, the words that come out his mouth are, admittedly, just as true. 
“You’re pretty.” 
You giggle. “Did you just realise?” 
Namjoon shakes his head. “You’ve always been pretty. You were pretty on the day we met. You were pretty the day we fought in Hong Kong. You were pretty the first time you stayed over. You’re pretty when you cry, you’re pretty when you… I wanted to think of something that rhymes with cry, but it slipped my mind and now everything’s ruined.” 
You laugh, a real, huge one this time. He can always tell when your laugh is real or not. 
“Thank you.” You say. “For the record, you’ve always been pretty too.” 
Namjoon leans back into his seat. “Damn straight.” 
“When d’you think you first fell in love with me?” You ask, genuinely curious, and Namjoon thinks for a moment. He thinks about what the Namjoon in this moment would say, and he thinks about what the present Namjoon would say. 
If he had verbal control, what would he say? That he fell in love with you during the very first memory he was thrusted in? But that wouldn’t be true, and that wouldn’t be honest. He fell in love with you during the memory of when you met? But that wouldn’t be true either. He fell in love with you in between memories, when all he could think about was the next time you could be in his arms, or how much he longed for your touch. 
He tries to say that, he really does. 
Instead, what comes out of his mouth is: 
“I don’t know. I don’t know if there’s a specific moment. Maybe it was that time we went to the movies and watched Coco while crying over popcorn, or maybe it was that time we went to Disneyland.” Namjoon’s heart slouches, because he doesn’t know any of those moments. He hasn’t been in any of those memories. 
“But I don’t think falling in love is a one moment, time stops kinda thing. I was always falling in love with you. From the time you spilled yogurt on my jacket to right now, where you’re asking me when I fell in love with you. I’m going to be falling in love with you tomorrow and the day after that, until the day where we shrivel up and die from old age.”
Oh, good answer, Namjoon thinks. 
“Good answer.” You say. “I think I’d say the same thing.” 
“Great minds think alike.” Namjoon sighs out. 
Something strikes Namjoon’s heart. It’s not the lead feeling or the heavy weight he’s grown used to. It’s strange, like a wave of deja vu. And suddenly, Namjoon stops thinking. He glances over to the control board to look at the time, which proudly reads: December 3rd, 2018. 
So that’s why he’s always had the feeling that these were memories. Why he was so adamant to believe these things really had happened to him. Even more strangely, what feelings strike him then is not panic, nor fear. It’s a strange flow of calmness that rushes through his veins. He looks over at you again, driving now with both hands on the steering wheel. 
He wonders why the deity would make him witness something as cruel and horrible as this, and he gets the weird feeling that this will be one of his last memories to enter. Namjoon looks at the dark blanket covering the sky and sadly thinks that the deity could have at least placed a few stars in the sky on this night. As consolation, or perhaps an apology. 
Something is ticking in the background, and Namjoon has no idea if it’s coming from the car or if he’s imagining it. Flashing memories go through his mind, so fast he can barely register them as images or moving pictures before they are gone again. Your smile, your laugh, your first date, your second date. The day he asked you to move in, the day you told him ‘I love you’ for the first time and he literally fainted. 
The day he came to pick you up from work for the first time, the night where he first laid his hands on you and kissed all your worries away. 
It comes fast and hurtles towards the two of you, but Namjoon doesn’t even see it coming because all he is looking at is you. Your face, your lips, your eyes, trying to engrave it all in his memory. You yelp out something to him, which he doesn’t hear. Floating images spin around both your heads and a high pitched screech rings out, a spark of orange lighting up like a stack of fireworks. The dark van shoots forward and collides into the driver’s seat. 
The world collapses. It goes sideways, rotates then flips completely upside down, and the dark fog starts to eat up Namjoon’s eyesight. Oddly, nothing hurts. Perhaps because of the shock, or panic, but nothing on Namjoon’s body is in pain. Everything crashes, Namjoon’s head hits the window with force. Something breaks, glass cracks, people scream and he cannot tell which is which. Red and white flashes are all he can see before everything fades to grey and he can only reach around in the darkness, to find your hand. 
He clutches onto your unmoving, still hand desperately, trying to calm his jumping heartbeat. Are those sirens in the background he hears or is that his imagination? Is that your voice he hears or is that a hallucination? 
In the end, his final thought before leaving the world once again is a wish. A wish that he prays the deity will grant him. He hopes that in your final moments, you were not scared. 
He falls. 
When Namjoon arrives home, his entire body is numb. He doesn’t know where he is, nor what he was doing before he was clicked in. He opens his mouth and screams for a full minute without stopping. 
It feels good in a fucked up way. 
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Namjoon has never been one for confrontation. Just ask his middle school bullies, who tormented him all they wanted because he wouldn’t do anything but put up with it. Just ask Mingyu from work, who keeps piling his unwanted projects and articles onto Namjoon because he never protests or complains to the higher-ups. 
But while walking towards his childhood home with the birds chirping and his hands placed casually in his pockets, confrontation is all he can think about. He lets himself in the door; his mother never locks it and walks in calmly. 
His mother is sitting on the couch, stitching up a sock which has a hole in it. 
“Mom. I’m home.” He says softly, and his mother greets him normally. Namjoon leans on the wall and his mother stares at him strangely, calling him over to sit and have some fruit. He declines, telling her he won’t be staying very long. “That car crash that happened two years ago.”
The needle in his mother’s hand stills. 
“They said I had selective amnesia, right?” 
The needle picks up speed, stitching faster and faster, his mother’s hand moving faster than light. 
“What did I forget again?” 
“What did you remember?” His mother asks, never one to beat around the bush. 
“Mom.” He says, firmly this time. “What did you do to me.”
The sock is torn apart in his mother’s hands. “Namjoon,” She starts and Namjoon already has a growing urge to shake the truth out of her. “When you got into that crash two years ago, you came out of it with very little injuries. We were all so relieved. When you woke up, you didn’t remember Y/N.” All that fills the air for another moment or two is the spongy sound of silence. 
The gap in this family became clearer than ever to Namjoon. He thinks about how everyone must have been in on the secret, even his sister. And he was left to suffer, wondering why his life seemed so empty after forgetting something he couldn’t clutch onto. 
“And what?” He demands, screaming and throwing his hands out of his pockets. “Do you think you can just keep something like that from me? The love of my life, and you just decide to erase them from my memory?” His mother stills and looks up at her son. 
“You didn’t remember Y/N. You lost contact with all your college friends, and then when I asked the doctor how selective amnesia worked,” His mother cleared her throat. “Sufferers often forget some parts of their memory. Relationships, talents, skills, certain areas or certain people.” His mother looks up directly in his eyes. “Sometimes, especially after going through a traumatic event, people forget certain parts of their memory as a coping mechanism. To erase bits of pain and regret.”
“I thought,” Her voice breaks and her face twists in regret and bad memories. “I thought maybe by forgetting her, I’d be saving you from more pain and hurt. I just wanted you to stop hurting”
Namjoon held eye contact with his mother for three full seconds before collapsing and gasping for air, lying with his head on her lap. All words of scolding, anger. All the confrontational tactics and all the accusations he’d thought of shooting towards her had gone. 
“Hurts.” He let out through large gasps of breaths. “Hurts, mom.” He lied there, with tears threatening to spill out his eyes for the rest of the night, with his mother caressing his hair and apologising to him with tears in her eyes. 
“Miss Y/N. I miss Y/N.” He hiccups out, and his mother wipes away his tears, but it feels different from when you used to do it. 
“I know, I know.” The woman looking down at her son wonders why she put him in so much pain. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” The night carries on like that, with the lights eventually dimming and the night covers up the light in the sky. The mother son pair repeat their grievances and apologies to each other until the sun comes back up, peeking through the curtains and extending out their warm embrace as if it wants to comfort the hurting humans. 
It doesn’t take long for Seokjin and co to come knocking on his door, sent by his mother who must have filled him in on everything, judging from the looks on their faces. It only takes one single glance at his friends, tilting their heads and all asking to come in for him to burst into tears. Ugly crying, with snot coming out of his nose and eyes bloodshot red from the nightmares. 
Jimin is the first to reach forwards and bring Namjoon into a hug. Soon after that, the six friends surrounded Namjoon, comforting him with the warmth of their arms and soft spoken words of encouragement. 
“You did well.” Someone mumbles into his hair. 
“We’re all proud of you.” Someone else says. 
Namjoon’s sweater sleeves are sopping wet with tears when he asks the boys to help him get into therapy. 
Things went on like that for another while. 
Therapy isn’t as bad as Namjoon had thought it might’ve been. He wasn’t forced to be vulnerable or open up or confront his worst fears. He certainly didn’t want to tell the truth about the world he’s thrusted in, for fear of getting thrown out of the building and into a mental institution. 
Even his mother didn’t believe him the first time he told her about it. She urged him to visit a doctor. How could a therapist who doesn’t even know him believe the nonsense he spouts? Even he himself wouldn’t believe himself if he hadn’t experienced it firsthand. Slowly, but surely, he began to open up, and to his surprise, there was no calling of hospitals or kicking him out. His therapist sat there and listened like everything he was saying was valid. 
He started eating again, mostly because of Seokjin, stuffing his creations down everyone’s throats every two seconds, claiming he needs opinions on his new recipes even though Namjoon’s fairly certain that the past three dishes of spaghetti were the exact same recipe. 
Namjoon started to workout again with Jungkook, much to the younger boy’s surprise and happiness. They talked about their own struggles while panting on the treadmill and spinner. Jungkook eventually tells him that he also has a secret he keeps from the rest of the guys, which is his high school sweetheart who broke his heart so horribly that he still feels hurt from it. 
Jungkook told him to cheer up though, because most of the pain fades away with time. It’s still there, ever as present, but other things will become more important to you and cover up a scar or a wound with blooming flowers. 
“Like us,” He said cheekily. “Your friends.” 
He talked to Yoongi most days of the week about nothing in particular. He enjoys the time with Yoongi because he’s the only one who never walks on eggshells around him. He still pelts him with pillows and roasts the outfits on Rupaul’s Drag Race with him. Taehyung and Jimin even helped him adopt a dog, an furry white Eskimo named Rap Mon which is literally now Namjoon’s entire life. 
Would likely kill all of his friends if one of them hurt his precious baby. 
Life is good, Namjoon learns. He gets better at his job. He never forgets you, but things seem to hurt less. But he gets relapses sometimes. Some days he wakes up screaming about the stupid lead filling up his throat. Sometimes he gets nightmares so intense he has to take medicine.
Therapy isn’t as bad as he painted it out to be, but recovery is ten times harder than he thought it would be. Some days all he can do is lie in bed or do nothing, thinking of you. 
His therapist tells him that his life is more than his past memories. Both Yoongi and Hoseok agree, when he pulled up a random conversation about it late at night. Hoseok says that there’s never going to be a time where he won’t think of you, or still love you. Perhaps not as much as he once did, but he’ll never forget about you. Yoongi tells him he’s healing, and that they’re all proud of him.
Namjoon meets his friends, for the first time in the two years he’s known them. Taehyung has an extraordinary and (slightly strange) obsession over art museums. He’s been to almost every single one in Korea, and he dragged Namjoon over to one an hour away in Gangnam in the summer. Jimin is an amazing dancer, which Namjoon never knew.
Until Jimin brought it up casually, looking through old footage of his dance competitions. “Nothing big,” He said. “I used to dabble.” Namjoon’s eyes bulged out of his head and he told Jimin if that was ‘dabbling’, then he was wasting away his talent. He asked Jimin why he never made a career out of dance, and Jimin replied casually:
“I feel like if I start to make money off of it, and I’ll lose my love for it. Now that I haven’t really has time for it... I dunno. I feel like I’ve lost the talent a little bit.“
Namjoon told his friend that talent is nothing but a bunch of practice and time dedicated to a certain skill. Nobody loses talent, people just get a little unfamiliar with it. Jimin turned around in deep thought and told him he may just have a point. 
Still, some days, he can do nothing but sulk around, feeling like a waste of space. Take today for an example. He walks down the street and out of the corner of his eye, he thinks, and he might be wrong, he thinks he sees you. The back of your head, anyways, but you’re wearing a red sweater with headphones over your ears and you turn around the corner. 
Namjoon panics. He drops his coffee, which splashes all over his leather shoes and runs. He runs past the corner and he doesn’t know what on earth he’s doing but all he can do is run, and the wind dries his tears faster and faster, and he forgets all over again, that you aren’t here, that there’s no way he can go back and see you unless it’s in his memories, which he doesn’t even know how to control. 
Somewhere deep in the depths of his mind, he knows something about this doesn’t seem right. That it couldn’t possibly be you, because he watched you go right in front of his eyes. He knows that in order to heal, he can’t chase after you or center his world around you. He knows all of that. But in that moment, he forgets that he still doesn’t remember everything about you. 
He forgets that you’re dead. 
And one day he’ll be free from this constant spinning. One day he won’t ever have to think twice when he cooks pancakes but that day and all that work he’s put in is the last thing on Namjoon’s mind and all he can think about is if that’s really you. 
He sprints faster and reaches out, misses your wrist by an inch and ends up clutching at nothing but air. He heaves a huge breath, about to clap his hand over your shoulder-
Click. 
tags; @jksbbyfacebunny @extremeobsessions101 @dwcljh @bishuthot @s0seo @stonyiscanon @cecedrake2217​ 
140 notes · View notes
idy-ll-ique · 3 years
Text
Balisong.
Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x F!Reader
Genre: Fluff, Mutual Pining, Roommate AU
Requested: by @tom-hlover
Tom Hiddleston x (roommate) reader where reader is harboring a secret crush on Tom, but she thinks that Tom only sees her as a friend, she loves to sing when she's alone, and sends Tom letters through the mailbox making it seem from another place,but in reality the return address is from her friend's address whom is out of the country and lets reader use the address for now, as she is serving as the house's caretaker as well 😅😅 until Tom finds out and also turns out hears reader's singing? And I was thinking of the song "Bali Song" by Rivermaya for that one particularly 😅😅😊😊
Summary: Y/N, who is roommates with Tom Hiddleston (omg they were roommates) has a crush on him and instead of confessing her love like a normal person, she writes him love-letters using a fake identity and address. What happens when Tom finds out, though?
Warnings: None
Author's Note: Hey guys! Special shoutout to @tom-hlover for the prompt, finished writing it under an hour so you have to excuse me if it's crappy. Enjoy!
---
Y/N POV:
"Oh, look, another letter from the secret admirer. I wonder what she wrote this time."
I looked up from where I was tending to the houseplants and gave Tom a quick grin. "Endearing words, as always. She does like you a lot," I professed with a slight chuckle, giving him a small smile and looking away when I felt a blush creeping up on my cheeks.
Tom sat down on the couch and opened the letter. "Dear Tom…" I stopped listening after that, I knew the whole thing to heart anyway. Wondering how? Well, I was the one who wrote it, simple! Let me explain. I'm Y/N Y/L/N and the person I was speaking to? Tom Hiddleston, my roomie.
Yeah we lived together; we had been friends for a long time and I needed a place so Tom offered to keep me at his home until I found another home. Nearly 5 years had passed since that incident and now we sort of just lived together, fallen into a nice, daily routine. I also happened to have a huge, huge, huge crush on him. Knowing how many other people, much better than myself, adored him, I kept my feelings to myself.
Oh and by the way, I paid my share of the rent so don't come at me! "She's so sweet with these, I might just pay her a visit! What is the address?" I looked up, wide-eyed as Tom took the envelope in his hand. "Do you really need to?" I blurted out, turning red when he squinted his eyes at me. "Do you know this person?" he blinked, raising an eyebrow.
"Of course I don't," I muttered, "You know what? Fine, go meet this person. I just hope they're not, you know, a psychopath." Yes, I knew I was talking about myself but was I wrong, though? Instead of confessing my feelings like a normal person, I was sending letters to my crush like I lived in the Victorian Era, using my best friend's address while she was out living somewhere else.
"I'm sure she's not. Anyway, what are your plans for later?" He let out a yawn, slouching on the couch. "Nothing much, I finish some work and then bam, dinner time." Tom laughed. "I have an interview early tomorrow, so I'm going to sleep early tonight. What do you want for dinner?" I shrugged. "Anything's fine, thanks!" He ruffled my hair and got up, going to the kitchen.
Okay, I see a lot of you are staring in confusion, let me clear things up yet again. I liked Tom for nearly 3 years now, but had no idea how to proceed with my feelings. Did he even like me back? Would he even like me back? That's when my best friend gave me a brilliant idea.
She said she was moving elsewhere and that her previous house was going to be empty but she was still going to be the owner. "Hey, Y/N, maybe you can go live there if you want!" she suggested. And I told her, "Hm, I'll think about it." Ever since then, I was the caretaker of the house, visiting it once a week to see if everything was okay with it.
One day when I was there, looking out the balcony into the garden, I came across the said brilliant idea. Why don't I just send letters to Tom from this address confessing my love?! He didn't know about it, and I technically won't be telling him anything in person. A great way to get the feelings off my chest while not getting the feelings off my chest!
Ever since then, I had started writing letters to him, once a week. Most of them were small, one paragraph long, along the lines of "hey how are you I love you thanks" while in some, I included lovesick quotes from famous authors like William Shakespeare, Virginia Woolf, Jane Austen or Anaïs Nin. Tom was a fanatic of classical literature, it only made sense.
With a sigh, I got up and went to my room, getting started with my work only to end up spending all my time on social media until Tom called me over for dinner.
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Tom POV:
"Ah, yes, this is the address," I said to myself, stopping outside a beautiful estate surrounded by pretty gardens. I parked the car and stepped out, heading to the door. As I was about to knock, I noticed that the door was locked. "Huh?" I whispered, maybe she wasn't home at the time? "Excuse me, sir? I saw your car parked outside…" I turned to see an old man blinking at me.
"Where's the woman who lives here?" I asked him. "Woman? This house has been empty for years, son, the last woman that lived here moved to the colonies 3 years ago." My eyes widened. So all this time, I was getting letters from… a ghost? Or was someone using a false address?
"Are you sure no one comes by, or anything?"
"Well, a fair young lady does stop by every week. Her name is Y/N Y/L/N, very polite and kind, she's like a daughter to me. She looks after the house; she's looking to move in, I guess but I'm not sure. Nice meeting you, young man! If you do want to meet up with the pseudo-owner, Y/N, she will stop by next Sunday at 11 am."
"Oh, I wouldn't need to do that," I muttered, bade him farewell and got back into the car. Well well well, things just got… interesting. I smiled widely as I drove back home. I had no idea Y/N felt the same way! All this time, the one-sided pining was actually mutual pining… it all ends today. Now that I knew she liked me back and my love wasn't in vain, there was nothing that could stop me from confessing.
Upon reaching home, I quietly opened the door only to see that Y/N was in the kitchen, singing a song unknown to me as she cooked. Like a thief, I tiptoed in and quietly closed the door behind me. I walked up to the kitchen, stopping when I heard the lyrics.
To speak or not to, where to begin
A great dilemma I'm finding myself in
For all I know you only see me as a friend
I try to tell myself, "Wake up, fool
This fairytale has got to end"
I leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen, finding it strange that she still hadn't taken notice of me. You only see me as a friend? Nonsense, I definitely liked her more than that. For some reason, the lyrics seemed familiar— Oh yes, the song Y/N apparently liked to sing all the time! What was the name, uh…
Never in my life have I been more sure
So come on up to me and close the door
Nobody's made me feel this way before
You're everything I wanted…
When she (amazingly) sang those lines, I decided to make my move. I walked forward and put my arms around her from behind, laughing when she screamed. "Tom! Oh my God, when did you come home?!" I spun her around, trapping her between the kitchen counter and myself. "A few minutes ago. You sing wonderfully, love," I smirked. She visibly gulped. "Uh, what are you—"
"Don't play dumb now. Aren't you the one who writes those letters? Don't lie to me." Her eyes went wide. "How did you find out? I'm sorry, I—" I cut off her trail of words by leaning down, capturing her lips with mine in a magical kiss. She, thankfully, didn't push away, instead wrapping her arms around me.
"I didn't think you'd like me back," she mumbled when we pulled away to breathe. "All that matters is that we're together now." She chuckled and snuggled into my arms. With a content sigh, I pulled her close, running my fingers through her hair as I held her close. "I love you," I said simply, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. "I love you too, think that's quite obvious."
We laughed. "How did you find out, though? What gave it away?" She got out of my arms and turned back to her cooking. I leaned against the counter next to her, crossing my arms. "I just visited the address on the letter. The door was locked, then I met an old man who said the person who lived there moved to the USA 3 years ago."
"My best friend, Y/F/N."
"He told me your name, saying how you went there every Sunday to look after the house. How come I didn't know?"
"Oh, Bertram. I always lied about going out on Sundays. I guess we sort of owe our relationship to Bert, don't we?"
I laughed and kissed her on the temple. "For sure, we do. What is that song you sing all the time, you were singing it just now?" She snorted and took out her phone, opening Spotify. She put on the song and turned to me, holding her hand out. "Balisong by Rivermaya. Care for a dance?"
"Don't mind if I do."
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A/N: Oooh two fics in a row?? leave a like if you enjoyed lol thanks for reading!
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