#On the bright side if I continue my many mediocre scenes: I might get 3 or 4 chapters out over the summer. <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[iamthepulta]

I know it's just the normal phase of the writing process to be mid-chapter, make mediocre progress, and be disheartened at how much there is to go. But I am disheartened.

[damienthepious]

Co-stars AU Megamind - Roxanne

caveat that i know very little about the actual practicalities of how making movies actually works with a real budget and shit, or how acting contracts/agents/etc work. but i liked how this turned out regardless, and it actually felt long enough for a title. bless

Typecast

There wasn’t any netting or padding below Roxanne, which was kind of terrifying considering that the outfit the costume department had dressed her in allowed exactly zero room for a harness underneath the fabric. She was pressed back against the window of a fake high-rise, the ledge beneath her heels slightly wider than it appeared from the angle of the camera. Theoretically, all she had to do was stand and press herself against the glass and call for help. It wasn’t the best role, obviously, but at least some of the other scenes gave her a bit of interesting dialogue, and if she could just nail this, then maybe- maybe the next role-

Her heel wobbled and she jerked back in alarm, and the director swore and called cut. Roxanne let her shoulders sag. “Sorry, sorry, it’s just starting to get a little- slippery up here,” she said, hoping the laugh that came with the words didn’t sound too forced.

“It’s whatever,” the director said, which was discouraging. “Reset, reset all of it and we’ll go from the start again. Just- try to angle yourself more, yeah Roxie? We gotta see your face and if the wind is blowing the hair-”

“Can’t you move the fans?” Roxanne tried again. “If you want me to be looking at where-”

“I think I know what I’m doing, Roxie.”

Roxanne smiled with bright fury, an automatic response at this point. “Of course.”

Another take, the ‘wind’ buffeting her against the glass as she tried to make whining ‘oh please won’t someone help me’ sound in any way natural while also trying not to actually plummet down to the concrete ground beneath her, and when Stewart called cut she closed her eyes for a moment and hoped that her performance had been good enough to make this bullshit stop for like, twenty goddamn minutes, at least-

“Reset! Another one, go again, come on I don’t wanna waste any more time.”

“What was wrong with that one?” Roxanne called out, trying to sound enthusiastic. “What can I do better?”

“Y’gotta stop making that face, Roxie,” he called out, and Roxanne was desperately glad that she couldn’t see his goddamn face behind all the lights aimed at her. 

“Face?” She chimed lightly.

“All scrunched up and like, tense and shit.”

“…. you want me to look less worried?”

“More worried! More worried but keep your face smooth!”

“So I have to… look scared, but not frown at all?” Roxanne asked in a voice of spiderweb-thin ice. 

“Yeah! Exactly! Let’s go again-”

“What in the… that looks extraordinarily unsafe.” 

The voice was new in the room, but Roxanne recognized it even though she couldn’t see the source through all of the lights. Megamind, the troublemaking former rock-star gone actor. He had to be here to film his cameo, for that scene near the end-

“Cut,” Stewart snarled, and then Roxanne heard the exact moment he realized who had interrupted him. “Oh- hey, dude, you’re kinda early-”

“Where is the harness?" Megamind failed utterly to acknowledge what the director was actually saying, and he strode directly onto the set beneath her, his sharp green eyes narrowing up at her and oh shit, he looked genuinely furious. Handsome as hell, too, but dangerously angry. Maybe his reputation was actually true, then. Maybe the reason he was typecast exclusively as villains was actually his attitude and not his appearance- maybe he actually was a terror on set, despite his sheer talent. “Are you comfortable up there?”

Or- maybe not?

“What?” she called down on autopilot, though she had heard him well enough.

He scowled, then snapped his head to look at someone to the side of the set. “Turn that wind machine off immediately, thank you.” His tone brooked no argument and the wind cut off as immediately as desired, though Stewart yelped a protest in the background. “I said, are you actually comfortable up there, Miss Ritchi? Those heels don’t quite look compatible with that ledge.”

Roxanne laughed weakly. “I- uh, I mean-” Megamind was still staring up at her, but she was more conscious of other eyes on her right now, the crew and the director in particular, waiting to see what she said.

“You don’t look comfortable,” he prodded.

“She’s not supposed to look comfortable,” Stewart called from out of sight. “She’s supposed to be in distress!”

“Her character is,” Megamind corrected.

“I wanted the reactions to be authentic, dude, don’t you get method? C’mon-”

“So you’re saying that you don’t trust her acting ability enough to successfully emulate the role you hired her for without actively putting her in danger?”

There was a beat of silence, and Roxanne felt a pulse of yes, thank you, god, but it was superseded by the absolute certainty that she was about to lose this job.

“Stop. You’re going to get me in trouble,” Roxanne hissed down at him between her teeth. “He’ll say I’m ‘difficult to work with’ and I’ll never get a role this big again, don’t screw this up for me-”

“You’ll get even less roles if you let him break your neck for his perfect shot,” Megamind retorted, full volume as the director sputtered behind him. “Come down and I’ll put you on the phone with my lawyer, and you can discuss exactly how many ways this mediocre auteur has abused your safety on this set.”

Roxanne hesitated for a long moment, then nodded. “I- uh, don’t actually know how I was supposed to get down from here, to be honest.”

Megamind looked, if anything, even angrier as he turned and snapped at a couple of crew members to grab a ladder already, and soon Roxanne on her way back to ground level, Megamind lifting a hand to her to help her wobble the last few rungs down the ladder. Stewart was still swearing and apparently hitting his chair in the background, though he seemed too terrified to come within ten feet of Megamind. Roxanne was substantially less intimidated.

“Not that I don’t appreciate being spoken up for, but you do realize that it isn’t easy to get a role like this, right? I can’t be picky when I’m trying to establish-”

Megamind instantly raised his hands in surrender as they started walking together away from the high-rise set. “I know- I know, I’m terribly sorry, Miss Ritchi. I tend to let my mouth run away with me when idiots like that Schteward think they can bully a better performance out of someone.”

“You- I assumed you agreed to cameo on this project because you liked the director,” Roxanne said with a raised eyebrow. “I figured it couldn’t be because of Wayne. Everybody knows you two don’t get along anymore.”

“Because I liked- oh goodness no,” Megamind sneered, dramatically flicking his wrist in front of him as if shooing a fly. “That was just an unfortunate cost if I wanted to get the chance to- er, that is-”

Roxanne tilted her head, trying to make sure that she wasn’t imagining the splash of pink flooding into his cheeks.

“It doesn’t matter anyway. Obviously I’ll be dropping out. He won’t want me on set anymore, no matter how much notoriety I would draw for him. I directly challenged him in the middle of filming. Someone with his ego won’t let that go lightly. And-” he sighed and shot her a guilty sideways glance, “likely he will lump you right in with me. Sorry about that. If you’d like, you can go back and loudly denounce me after we tighten up your contract and get you a better agent, if you want to finish this one up before your next role.”

Roxanne blinked. “You think I would just- go back and lie?”

He shrugged. “It’s your career, Miss Ritchi. I certainly wouldn’t blame you. I already have a reputation, and it wouldn’t hurt me any further for you to confirm it. I’m still going to get the roles I want regardless, so it makes perfect sense for you to distance yourself from me, since you don’t have that safety net yet.”

“That- that isn’t fair,” Roxanne said, brow furrowing. “Have people done that to you before? That’s horrible.”

He grinned a sharp little grin and shrugged. “Show business, Miss Ritchi. You’re just as familiar with it as I am.”

“No. That’s bullshit. I won’t throw you under the bus like that.”

The grin faded a little, surprise edging in at the corners of his expression. “That- well, that’s up to you, of course. But- you really shouldn’t risk your job for me any more than you already have.”

“It’s not for you, it’s just the right thing to do.” She stopped for a moment to kick her ridiculous heels off, opting to carry them instead. ”This was a shitty role anyway.”

“Well.” He laughed lightly. “I hope, then, that you’ll at least let me get you in touch with some other projects that will be casting, soon-”

“I appreciate the thought but I don’t need charity roles, Megamind.”

“Charity? No, I-” he flushed again, then bit his lip hard before he continued. “I’ve- I’ve seen your work before, Miss Ritchi, and I think you’ve been wildly, atrociously overlooked. You have this inherent charm and- and you always bring such nuance to roles that otherwise would have just been- and you do anger in this really fascinating way and-” he laughed, a nervous sound that he seemed to be using to make himself stop his jolting stream of words. “The only reason I even agreed to this idiotic villain cameo was because I thought- if Roxanne Ritchi is involved it might be worth- rather, if she’s attached, maybe this Schteward fellow isn’t as bad as they say he is. I was wrong about that part, but- well, you deserve to- you deserve a chance to- to work with people who will actually appreciate you. Is all.”

Roxanne stared at him as the words dried up, at the discomfort in his expression started to verge on panic, and thought, only an absolute asshole would think this guy is a problem to work with. And then, he’s actually even prettier in person than on screen, which should be both impossible and illegal. And after that, I did not imagine him blush three entire times while he talked about me. 

“Okay. We’ll call your lawyer,” she said, “and work out whatever- business we need to, and you can give me contact info for some casting directors if you really think I have a shot. And then I’d like your number, if you’d be willing to give it.”

Megamind made a wordless noise, then shook his head. “Of- of course, I mean, you would want to get in contact with me for reference, of course-”

“Not for reference.” Roxanne stopped, turning to face him properly with a smile tugging at her lips. “I’d like to take you out for coffee, sometime.” She paused while he stared. “Unless you wouldn’t like that. I imagine that you’re probably pretty busy-”

“No I would love to- I mean, of course I would like- coffee, with you, obviously I would like-” he clamped a hand over his mouth and then gave that nervous, awkward, charming laugh again. “Like- but, of course you don’t mean- like a date, Miss Ritchi?”

“Like a date.”Roxanne smiled in earnest, now. She couldn’t help it. “And- you can call me Roxanne, you know.”

“Oh,” Megamind said, his voice gone light and stunned. “Oh. I would like that very much, Roxanne.”

[jimlingss]

Starlet and Moonstruck [1]

Chapter 1||Chapter 2||Chapter 3||Chapter 4||Chapter 5

Words: 8.7k Genre: Fluff & Humour, Actress!Au Summary: As a newcomer actress struggling to make a name for yourself in the tough industry, you’re absolutely ecstatic to see your Dispatch pictures on the front page of Naver....but..what is this?! This isn’t about you! 

Who’s the third guy from the left?!

Cr.

Lights. Camera. Action.

“Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!” The chanting of your name begins simultaneously as the car door slides open and you step out. Your mouth draws into a huge smile, cheeks swelling, hand waving and the shrieking elevates. The screams from your fans beg you to spare any amount of attention to them. The journalists lean over the metal fence barrier, shoving their microphone in your direction and yelling out questions to supposed rumours. The artificial light flashes of the cameras provide you with luminescence, reminding you of a rave show, capturing your best angles with the long lenses. The shouts and clicking frenzy ricochets off the midnight sky.

You continue with black heels strutting against the red carpet, offering a last smile as you turn into the building. The life of fame is such a tough one.

“Uh, miss….did you pay for your ticket?”

Unfortunately, it’s a mere mirage.

You tug down your sunglasses, pupils narrowed into the ticket boy and he blinks at you, unfazed. Your hand reaches up, taking off the black face mask and you clear your throat. He still doesn’t recognize who you are and you give a mirthless laugh, ripping open your purse to slap a crisp bill on the counter.

“What movie?”

“When Spring Meets Autumn.” You tap your fingernails against the counter. “One ticket.”

“Uh-huh.” The teenager behind the booth makes excruciatingly slow movements, as if attempting to purposely piss you off. It’s a full minute later before he hands you the slip of paper and directs you to which auditorium.

You scoff, strutting away while putting on your disguise again, fearing that someone will see you for who you really are. It would be terribly inconvenient for you to draw a crowd at a time like this.

You find a spot smack dab in the rows of seats and the spaces around you end up getting filled out as the commercials roll in the meantime. Some folks give you odd stares and you decide to finally take off your sunglasses, rewarding them to sneak a peek at your face. But they simply turn around without a single comment.

There’s no time to dwell, not when the lights have dimmed and the movie is beginning.

“No! Sunhwa! You can’t do it! You can’t go back to him! He hurt you!”

It’s surreal to be watching on the large screen, to hear your own voice and see your own facial expressions. You murmur underneath your breath, “promise me one thing….promise me you’ll find happiness elsewhere and not with that bastard.”

“Promise me one thing!” Your visage is marred by a frown, tears running down your flushed cheeks and from your spot in the theater, you admire how pretty you look. It’s convincing as well, striking a chord from deep within. “Promise me you’ll find happiness elsewhere and not with that bastard.”

You let out a squeak at the way you enunciated ‘bastard’ with absolute spite. The main character and actress looks out the window and sure, while you might be playing a minor role, this is still something that can be used to propel you higher into your career.

A few more scenes pass by but you’re preparing for the one and only….

“SUNHWA!”

There’s the screech of the tires halting on pavement, a single scream and the car collides with your body. The epic, sad music begins to play and you commemorate how well you play dead on the road, though it only lasts a handful of seconds. In the next scene, it’s your funeral.

Two hours later, the movie has ended and you leave the theater with a humongous smile.

Why not? You decide to appease your fans and you take off your glasses, waiting by the door as people exit the movie, discussing the ending and how it was a mediocre film at best.

No one looks twice at you.

You clear your throat loudly and awkwardly as if you were choking. Some high school kid tapping away at their phone looks up to see if you’re dying. “Are you okay-”

“Did you see me?”

“What?”

You rest your elbow against the wall, hand touching your forehead as you sweep your hair back. “The movie. I was in it.”

The student frowns, a bit weirded out from you. “You were?”

“I was the main character’s best friend...you know, I was there for the first ten minutes in like three scenes. There was a car accident in the beginning.”

He shoots his brows upwards. “There was an accident?”

You exhale a long breath. Okay, the movie is two hours and a half, you might’ve only shown up for ten and a lot of shit does go down but how could this high school child not remember the plot at all?! Your death was the basis for everything else! It’s very important…

Right?!

//

It’s been your dream since you were young, when you could barely even count your own fingers. You cried for a fictional character, a name and actress that you didn’t know but what you did know was that you wanted to be like her. A starlet.

At four, while others your age wanted to be a princess or fairy, when asked, you said you wanted to be an actress. They encouraged you and smiled, praising how cute you were.

At ten, you declared that you would become an actress. They said ‘oh’ and many people wished you luck while skeptically walking away.

At eighteen, you set out a plan to become an actress and how to get to the road of fame. Your friends rolled their eyes, teachers told you to set realistic standards and your parents yelled at you to stop daydreaming.

But here you are….

Sort of.

It’s a bitter pill to swallow and even harder to admit, but after so many years of grueling hard work and begging on your knees, all the roles you have obtained are incredibly forgettable.

You don’t blame the high schooler for not knowing you were in the movie. Even the director forgot to put your name in the credits and you weren’t called to the premiers either. But it’s okay, you don’t really mind. Your manager got angry on your behalf anyways.

“Oh my! My stomach hurts so much! What should I do?” You spin around, holding a pill bottle in your hands. A single wink and finger gun motion later, you muster a bright smile. “NIJ Laxative Pills will cure your bowel way! Helps with constipation! Now I feel so much better!”

You hold yourself still and after a second, the director yells ‘cut!’.

“That was great, Y/N,” he says sitting from his chair and you monitor your performance with scrutinizing pupils. “Except, can you act more in pain? How about you sit on the toilet and rub your stomach. Don’t be afraid to look ugly. Remember, you’re constipated.”

“Okay! I can do that!” You bow waist down to the director before racing back onto set.

The staff watches, some coordis snickering at the way you gurgle and moan in fake pain, perched on top of the toilet. You end up spinning around and saying the second portion of your lines in a different outfit. Finally, after twenty takes and four hours, it’s over.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” You bow towards the director and all the staff, not caring about how a few of them give mocking smiles and how the director doesn’t say a single word in response or glance in your direction. Your hands are clasped together and you continue to express your gratitude to each person until they’ve walked away. “Thank you.”

It might be an embarrassing commercial and they might’ve laughed at you but you’re lucky to be here.

//

“Listen, we’re going to make your big break soon! I just know it, Y/N. Don’t give up! You have talent and someone will eventually notice!” Soo-Ae, your sweet manager has a stern expression and you nod with a newfound determination.

Aside from managing your schedule and assisting you every step of the way, Soo-Ae is your personal cheerleader and the backbone to your entire career. When there’s nobody there, she never fails to support and encourage you.

“The CF turned out great and your recent movie got you more fans!” She smiles, fixing a strand of your hair and smoothing out your golden teacup dress as the stylists pack up. “Soon more articles will pop up and it’ll be the start of something great.”

Six years ago at eighteen years of age, fresh out of high school and bare-faced, your audition blew the older woman’s socks off. She claimed that you have a brilliant gift and your manager went as far as to beg the higher-ups of the company to take you in. To this day, she is still the one who finds all the opportunities for you.

“Thank you.” You feel a tear pricking at your eyes but you repress it in fear of smudging your mascara. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Oh please, your success is mine.” The woman places her hands on your shoulders and you muse that she’s truly the older sister that you’ve never had. “There’s also something else that I need to tell you, Y/N.”

You look away from your reflection in the mirror. “What is it?”

“Don’t freak out. I want you to remain calm. But I got in touch with a company recently and after a lot of discussion, they’ve agreed to take pictures of you.”

There’s a bit of silence, anticipation building in your stomach as your mind races. “Who?”

“It’s Dispatch.”

You nearly drop to the ground right then and there.

Click.

But the flash of the camera breaks you out of your daze. The photographer smiles and you gather up a wider grin, raising your hand for a wave, tipping your head to one side. You’re pretending to walk into the company building nonchalantly, as if they had caught you by surprise but this is far from normal. It’s not everyday that you get the opportunity to pose for one of the most popular newsgroups.

You’re internally screaming as the clicks continue to go off and you try to make different expressions, straightening your posture, lips meekly turned upwards. There are a few people near the metal gate barrier, fans holding up signs with your name and shouting out for your attention. You’re not sure how many people there are planted by your manager and how many are actually real but it’s still nice to have some sort of backdrop that might hint to your oncoming fame.

“Alright, that was great!” As the photographer drops his expensive camera, the cheering simultaneously dies out. Like you suspected, all of those people crying out for you are fake.

A sharp sting bites the muscle beating near your rib cage but the hurt is interrupted when you catch a black cloud of hair, a tall figure wearing a bright red cap standing amongst the female crowd, a rather cute face-

“Well, the article should come out later today or tomorrow.” Dispatch’s photographer interrupts your daydream and you whip your head around, listening attentively. “We like to work fast and it’s no problem when we’re only releasing a few photographs and a couple of sentences.”

“O-oh, thank you.” You bow and he hums, nodding his head.

Your manager comes outside, smiling towards the people behind the barrier who begins to scatter, breaking the cardboard signs of your name and throwing the posters into the trash. Soo-Ae goes to speak to the Dispatch employee about some details in the article while you skip into the building.

You’re giggling and twirling, beaming with happiness. This could be it. This is the one thing that could propel your dreams and make them become fulfilled.

You leave the front entrance behind, abandoning your fake fans that were hired by your manager. Unknowingly, you leave one real one behind as well.

//

The laptop screen lights up in bright colours. You’re seen in the center on a white toilet, a cute growl leaving your stomach as your face twists up. “My stomach hurts so much. What should I do?!”

There’s a poof and you’re seen twirling around in a different outfit, facing the front again with a pill bottle in your hand. You give a charming wink and a finger gun motion, smiling vividly. The music jingle plays ‘bah-dah-ba’.

“NIJ Laxative Pills will cure your bowel way! Helps with constipation! Now, I feel so much better!”

The logo flares on screen as a deeper voice on the CF sounds, one that speaks rapidly, whispering all the cautionary warnings of the brand and how consumers must ingest by their own discretion and the company isn’t held responsible for any damages.

Yet, you’re not paying any attention to your new commercial that you’ve watched at least a thousand times. You’re on your phone, eyes glued to the screen, teeth chewing the nail of your thumb, muttering incoherently under your breath. Stop freaking out, stop freaking out, stop freaking out, you chant back to yourself to calm down.

It’s one in the morning and the Dispatch article was released hours ago. You’ve been too scared to check, to see what they said about you, what the comments are, how you look in the photos. But now you’ve built up the courage and with a trembling finger, you press onto the app, refreshing the page….

Naver appears and you’re about to search for your article, only to be stopped with a gasping breath. IT’S….IT’S…

IT’S ON THE FRONT PAGE?!

The written piece with your face as the icon, headlines running across the screen is trending, at the very top and your heart gets stuck in your throat. You begin to sob uncontrollably, feeling overwhelmed, both happy and relieved, enthralled with excitement and the burden of trying for so many years have been lifted off your shoulders. It’s here.

Fame has come knocking at your door.

You double tap on the article, wiping away your drenched cheeks. The page pulls up with a handful of lovely photographs of yourself and carelessly written captions underneath. You’re quite splendid in them, smiling without showing the stiffness, clear skin and bright eyes, a gorgeous dress that doesn’t take away from your appearance. But you don’t dwell on the pictures, quickly sliding your hand down the screen to view the comments underneath. They begin to load and you hold the air in your lungs…

[New Rising Actress Y/N Gathers Fans at Company Entrance]

1. [+3,233, -68] Oh my god. Who is that third guy from the left?!

2. [+2,987, -145] That third guy from the left in the back is crazy handsome. If that guy is reading this comment right now, please marry me!!

3. [+2,336, -38] Holy sh*t, that guy in the red hat is so freaking cute. His smile is killer, wow! It’s unreal. Is he an actor or an idol??? I need to know his name asap!

4. [+1,062, -57] It’s a shame I’m a fifty year old married woman. Please become my son in law! My daughter went to Seoul University and she needs someone like you!!

5. [+789, -20] ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ Isn’t it funny that this random fan got more attention that this nobody actress?

6. [+490, -23] Who is this actress though?

7. [+260, -15] Dispatch, please take photos of the third guy from the left next!

8. [+13, -3] Ah, I wish she would move a bit more to the right. Or maybe just out of the screen.

9. [+12, -2] ㅋㅋ This actress is a nobody! ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

You scroll all the way back up to the photographs and exactly like the comments, your face pales in comparison to the man; the third one from the left, standing behind the metal fence barrier amongst the crowd of fake fans, smiling innocently with a red cap on. He’s in nothing but a plain white and blue jersey, black disheveled hair poking out, absolutely breathtaking.

The mysterious person looks worlds better compared to you who’s dolled up and perfected with layers of makeup. It took you a tremendous amount of effort to get to where you are, yet he’s nothing more than a bystander, a stranger who’s gained what you desired most.

“My stomach hurts so much. What should I do?!” The jingle plays in the background. “NIJ Laxative Pills will cure your bowel way! Helps with constipation! Now, I feel so much better!”

You slam down your laptop, silencing the embarrassing commercial and it occurs to you how quiet and dark the apartment has become. You sink down into your bed, not bothering to turn off the lamp as your tears trickle from your eyes and onto the pillow, creating a damp mess.

Who’s that actress though? She’s a nobody.

Tiny sobs break through your mouth and you chuck your mobile device away, letting you weep yourself until exhaustion has taken you.

//

The man sits across from you, smiling and happy to be in the presence of another beautiful individual. You solemnly pick at the food in your plate, nodding lifelessly as he blabbers on. The meal is eventually finished, two hours passed and you follow after him in the elevator, feet shuffling on muscle memory while your brain is a kilometer away. You don’t catch onto his sly glimpses of you.

It doesn’t truly occur to you where you’re going until the older man is fishing for his hotel room key card, his other hand snaking to the dips of your waist and gently palming over your ass.

You immediately snap out of it, flinching out of the stranger’s grasps, feeling lightheaded from the one glass of wine. The man takes notice of your abrupt movement and his hand freezes, eyebrow cocked upwards, “What’s wrong?”

“I-uh….I’m just feeling a little tired.” You manage to plaster on a meek smile, brushing your hair back and speaking in a soft and honeyed voice, “I think I should head home.”

“So soon?” He rests against the doorway, scanning you from head to toe while licking his lips, as if envisioning what you would look like stripped from the short black dress, thrown onto the mattress with your lipstick smeared and your mascara running down your cheeks.

You hide your disgust with a clearing of your throat and he nudges towards the hotel room. “You could come inside and rest. I promise we’ll only talk business in there and...maybe we can have a bit of fun too afterwards. It’ll be good for you, Y/N. I can guarantee that you’ll feel good as well.”

A muscle in near your eye twitches and your jaw feels numb from the exaggerated grin but you keep it up. You bow your head to show your respect and for the purpose of seniority. “I’m okay. Thank you, I had a nice time.”

Your manager, Soo-Ae, had told you that someone in the industry was interested in you and your work. You instantly agreed to have dinner with him and meet him for potential opportunities but what you failed to realize, while your mind was preoccupied from the Naver article, was that this was a sponsorship offer - sexual favours in exchange for money and power.

“Are you sure you want to leave?” He stops you from escaping, purposely moving in your way. The older man reeks of cologne and you hold in a cough. “I could get you the roles that you want.”

Upon hearing his confident statement, you waver. He must detect it in your expression since he continues on with the sweet coaxings. “There’s nothing to worry about. A lot of celebrities like you come to me for help. I have connections, I know people. The things that you want, the roles, I could easily get them for you in the blink of an eye.”

The man’s large hand clasps around your wrist, giving a light tug and he smiles. “And I know a lot more people would want to help you too. Not only would you get the fame that you’ve always dreamed of but you’ll be rich beyond belief. Money, luxury, clothes, films, CFs, dramas - it’s all yours. All you have to do is be obedient and listen.”

His whispers and the deep timbre of the man’s vibrating voice causes you to swallow hard. It’s the devil’s offer, a dream or a miracle, something that you’d never be able to obtain out of your own will.

Yet, you pry his grip off of you, standing your ground. “That’s not the method I want to take to reach my dreams.”

He mirthlessly chuckles, a cold tone ringing in the empty hallway to the private hotel suite. “You sure are stupidly naive for being in this industry for six years. Just put down your goddamn pride for once. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. This is the only way you’ll make it, sweetheart. You really think you can become famous purely by your hard work? What a joke.”

The older man rolls his eyes, clearly pissed off at how you’re wasting his time and not spreading your legs automatically like people in the past have. Instead, you bow your head once more, fingernails sinking into your skin to hold in the tears that threaten to pour.

“I’m going to leave now. Thank you for the dinner. Goodbye.”

“Mark my words,” he calls after you in a booming voice, “you’ll come crawling back one way or another!”

//

When you can’t cry, you smile. When you can’t scream, you laugh.

There’s no time or place to complain or whine, to be enraged or sorrowful, not in this cut-throat industry that would slice you up like a sirloin steak the moment they catch a flicker of a weakness. You haven’t even made it yet. You can’t sob for what you don’t have.

“My stomach is hurting so badly, help me.” The main actress for the comedy television drama collapses on the counter. You twirl around in your white coat, acting as the local pharmacist.

“What did you eat recently?”

The actress frowns and recalls in her mind, muttering underneath her breath, “Bong-su….this morning…” A flash of recognition slaps her across the face but she clutches onto her stomach.

You smile, sliding over a NIJ laxative pill bottle over the counter which she takes gratefully.

“Cut!”

The director’s cue causes the entire set to rush forward, fixing the actress’ messy hair and makeup to prepare for the next scene. You step out from behind the counter, bowing to her to which she smiles and tells you what a good job you did. You thank the director and the rest of the staff as you leave.

It was only a brief cameo, probably something that might be aired for less than a minute. Still, any exposure is good exposure at this point.

You’re in the dressing room, packing up your bag when your phone begins to spasm in your pocket. You apologize to the stylists for the noisy sound and you smile at your manager’s name that’s displayed across the screen. She wasn’t too happy that you made the potential sponsor and perhaps future associate angry but she ultimately brushed it away.

You pick up the phone call, wondering if Soo-Ae already received another opportunity for you.

“Hello?”

“Y/N, are you done with filming? Come to the company building right now, there’s something important that I need to tell you. I’m on the fifth floor, fourth conference room in the west wing. Hurry.”

//

“No.”

You thought at this point, you’d almost do anything to make it big but this is your absolute limit. “I can’t. It’s embarrassing. It’s horrible. I just can’t.”

“Y/N…” Soo-Ae sighs and rubs her temples for an extended second. She’s leaning against the table, her feet and arms crossed, watching you pace back and forth. “You don’t have a choice.”

A nervous breakdown comes knocking at the door, distress holding your frame captive and you shake your head, grasping onto the hair near your scalp. “No. No!”

Your manager inhales a deep breath and pushes herself to stand properly. She takes three strides up to you and presses her comforting hands on your shoulders, locking your eyes with her’s. The oncoming mental collapse barrelling towards you temporarily halts.

“Listen to me, Y/N, and listen carefully. At this point, the company is willing to try anything that will work. The PR team and I have spoken and they’re right. It’s been six fucking long years and if your career doesn’t propel up now, it’s all over. We’re both not getting younger and it’ll get harder and harder from here. This is just a way to draw attention to you so that people can see you for who you really are, your talents and gifts. It’s a strategy, a tactic.” Her desperation manages to coax you an inch. “I know you can do this, Y/N. It’s worth a shot.”

She’s right. You’ve made it this far. Are you really going to stop now? How can you bear to let all your efforts go to waste?

You slowly enunciate the word, “okay.”

Soo-Ae smiles at your response. “Good.”

“Where is he?”

Your life is one tragic comedy.

“He’s in the next room over.”

No...No...No…

You’re screaming internally from denial. ‘Yes..Yes...Yes…’, your manager’s light shoves conveys and you’re forced to open the door. There’s broad shoulders and a large backside that greets you. A black cloud of hair sits on top of his head, untamed and poofy. The head turns and shining, bright eyes crinkle with the humongous grin. The man is more so of a boy, carrying an innocent aura that seems heightened with his excitement. He’s in nothing more than a navy green jacket, dark jeans but he’s unmistakably drop dead gorgeous.

He’s even more beautiful than the photos and for a moment, you’re blown away, forgetting who the actual celebrity in the room is. Fuck. You’re envious of him.

There’s silence.

You stare at him. He stares at you. You wonder how someone can have such pillowy lips, strong brows that create a cute face, look so perfected as if they were sculpted from a deity’s hands. It doesn’t occur to you that he’s completely starstruck in your presence.

After a jab from your manager, you sigh and snap out of your trance. “Are you my new bodyguard?”

“Yes, I am!” He shouts in elation and you frown, questioning if you heard him let out a squeal. His smile is so wide, you ponder if it might break his face - if it does, you’ll celebrate. “My name is Kim Seokjin! It’s nice to finally meet you!”

You wish you could say the same.

//

It’s unbearable. Kim Seokjin, infamous Third Guy From The Left, follows you around everywhere you go. His presence is a constant reminder that you couldn’t become famous on your own and reach your dreams with your own talents. Instead, you have to ride off of his fame, utilize his nice face as a strategy to gain attention from the public. It’s sad. It’s humiliating.

It’s even worse that he’s so goddamn annoying.

“Will you stop whistling?!” You snap at him in the van and he jolts, immediately quieting down.

He dips his head, lips slightly pouting but the genuine sadness is felt through his softly whispered words, “I’m sorry.”

Goddammit. Now you feel like the villain.

And why does he have to look like that? Like a kicked puppy?

“Can you stop staring at me?!” You growl at him and he whirls his head to look at the window, wincing from your harsh tone. He murmurs another apology and you groan, fingers pinching the bridge of your nose from the accumulating stress.

You can’t help feeling nothing but disdain for him. It’s unfair. He’s done nothing to get to where he is, to have his nickname trending and all over the front page of news sites. Paparazzi and people alike are searching for him, to find out more details, his name and age, to satisfy the curious netizens. It’s infuriating.

“Carry my stuff.”

Seokjin catches the bags that you hurl towards him and he cheerfully pulls your luggage into the building after you. He still remains happy-go-lucky, humming under his breath, chasing after your tail and always….always staring at you like he can’t believe he’s actually with you.

You don’t know what that guy’s problem is. “Go fetch me some water.”

“Okay!”

But you have to endure this.

Your manager was right after all. There have been pictures released with Seokjin standing beside you and it’s blown up, some speculating that he may be your boyfriend while most put two and two together, figuring out that he’s your new bodyguard. Of course, your name is linked with his too. Whatever fame he gains, you’re also benefiting.

You repeat the single statement to yourself over and over again: ‘any exposure is good exposure at this point’.

“No, I don’t want this water!” You chuck the bottle to the ground, letting him watch it roll to his feet. “Go downstairs and take the elevator to the second floor. At the east wing, four doors down to the left, not right, there's a coffee break room. Go to the back where the mini-fridge is and take the bottle from the first shelf, not the third one or the one attached to the door. Got that?”

He lifts up his hand, eyes widening. “W-wait-!”

“Go.”

You turn towards the mirror, picking apart the flaws to cover them up with a thick layer of concealer. It’s not until ten minutes have passed before your manager comes into the room, monetarily glaring at the stylists tapping away at their phones in the corner. “Where’s Seokjin?”

“Hmm?” You twirl a piece of your hair, glancing over at Soo-Ae.

That’s right….where did he go?

There’s a thought that knocks the wind out of your lungs - what if he left? Maybe you scared him off….good….but no-.....that’s bad. You need him. Rather, you need his fame and his gorgeous face.

You end up running around the entire building, asking others if they’ve seen him and chasing after his shadow, places where you miss him by a mere couple of seconds. Your polished hair becomes a mess, makeup smudged and clothes rumpled. You would feel angered...if only you didn’t feel so guilty first.

“Um, excuse me. Do you know where the east wing to the second floor is?”

“Kim Seokjin!” Your guilt heightens as he swivels his head over, an enormous grin tugging his lips and causing his cheeks to swell. He bows his head towards the worker who hums and leaves. Seokjin’s eyes are gleaming as he skips over to you, transforming from a lost puppy into a happy dog that’s finally found its owner. “What are you doing?!”

“I’m sorry. I got lost and I didn’t know how to go back either. This building’s really big! But I got you some water! It’s not the one in the mini-fridge but I found-”

You take the bottle in his hand with a long sigh, defeated with his undying eagerness. “I don’t need water anymore. Let’s just go back, okay?”

Seokjin audibly squeals when you take his hand, holding it in yours and lugging him along the maze of halls. You turn around, lifting up a brow and he downcasts his head, the tips of his ears burning a bright shade of red, attempting to repress another big smile and failing.

//

The stylists grumble as they fix the mess on your head and on your face. However, when Seokjin takes a seat next to you at the dressing tables, they seem absolutely elated, shoving each other lightly to battle who gets to brush his lashes and groom his brows.

“Why is he getting styled as well?”

You watch as the coordinator rushes to prepare a suit for him, steaming out all the wrinkles and measuring his arm with tape. “He’s supposed to be my bodyguard!”

Soo-Ae comforts you with her hand tapping your back in steady beats. “Don’t complain, Y/N. One day, you’ll thank him, I know it.”

There was another opportunity, more specifically, a pictorial with CeCi magazine. Obviously, you nearly soiled your pants when your manager told you but what you didn’t expect was for Seokjin to be involved with it as well.

There’s a bright flash from the camera and Seokjin flinches.

“Can you please relax?” The photographer asks him and you observe him fumble around. You don’t know if you should laugh at him or cry. The poor boy is so stiff and confused, only able to clasp his hands behind his back and give a pretty smile. He fails with any other pose, stance or expression and constantly looks over at you with distress.

There’s another click, a flash and your newly hired bodyguard is caught mid-blink on the monitor.

“No! No! Just stop scrunching your eyebrows. Relax your shoulders…..take a step forward...now to the right, okay. No, you still look tense. Don’t worry about anything. Look into the camera now.”

“I’m sorry.” He cries out, limbs awkwardly hanging by his side. The coordis and stylists look on in disappointment and revulsion for the way his handsome face has gone to waste by the lack of his skills. It’s a pitiful sight unraveling in front of you as Seokjin grows more and more distraught. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” The photographer exhales in exasperation, dropping his camera and spinning around to look at you. He mumbles something about getting it done and over with. “What’s your name? Y/N? You can come over now.”

Seokjin breathes out a sigh of relief when you step onto the set. The white backdrop and studio umbrella lights surround him, the fluorescent artificial tubes seering into his irises. You feel a bit of compassion for the male, how he was thrown in abruptly without much of a warning. It can be overwhelming to have a camera lense solely on you, for the bright lights to burn to the back of your skull, for everyone to be watching in deafening silence, anticipating something amazing to happen.

The pressure could break anyone.

You, at the very least, have to admit that he looks quite spectacular in his suit. It’s tailored to fit and hug his body, giving him an affluent vibe, despite the natural innocent and childlike aura. Seokjin looks like a rich heir of three generations of CEOs. In comparison, the coordinator chose for you to wear a lace baby pink dress that stops mid-thigh, paired with a fitted white blazer coat that matches the length of the dress and black kitten heels. Roseate flowers clip the side of your hair back, matching the colour of your matte lipstick. For once, you’re mildly satisfied with how you look.

The best thing you can do now is to put on an act and ease him.

“Calm down.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” You smile and Seokjin’s cheeks grow warm. “Don’t be self-conscious. Pretend that it’s just me and you. There’s nothing to be afraid of, honestly.”

You place a hand on his shoulder, looking up at the male and he gazes back into your twinkling orbs. There’s a gasp in the corner of the room but the two of you don’t notice. The camera flashes.

If you were being truthful, you were anxious as well. It was your first time ever shooting for a pictorial and for a famous magazine agency at that. But seeing Seokjin clumsy and frightened, somehow made you feel calmer. You don’t know anything about him, but it still amazes you how beautiful he looks up close.

“Are you nervous around me?” You incline your head to one side, grinning at how his cheeks are flaming red and the tip of his ears look like they’ve caught on fire. His breathing has halted, his heart is thundering underneath his chest. Seokjin coyly smiles and you step closer to him.

He recoils back, startled but you pull him closer. Your hand is around the nape of his neck and you stare at his thick, pillow lips with half-lidded eyes. “That’s great!” The photographer shouts and Seokjin’s bewildered expression is marred when he realizes you’re only in this narrow proximity with him for the photographs. His hand naturally takes hold of your waist and you melt into his arms, lolling your head to give a mesmerized gaze at the lens of the camera.

There’s a click, a flash, the lights illuminating your visage.

Seokjin continues to focus on you, his gaze pinned on your features. You look off at the camera, sometimes giving a sly smile and other times, expressionless. The both of you change positions from his arm draped over your shoulder to you embracing him, his backside towards the photographer, the profile of his face seen when he tilts his head ninety degrees.

The room has gone silent. Coordinators and stylists, your manager, all watching in awe. The photographer is bouncing around the room, spamming his camera, screaming out compliments as he’s found his lifetime muse or that this is the greatest photoshoot in existence. “Holy shit! Wow! One more shot, one more shot!”

You and Seokjin look at each other at the same time, bursting out into laughter.

The camera flashes again.

You put on an act, ignoring the anger and jealousy, attempting to be civilized and pull Seokjin in for the sake of getting good photos. It’s all the more ironic that you’re the one gravitating towards him. And you don’t realize that you forgot you were acting.

//

“The pictorial blew up!” Your manager screeches through the phone and you immediately go to pull up the article.

The pictures are as stunning as the previews you saw through the monitor on the day of the shoot. For a moment, you’re captivated by how beautiful the final HD versions are, especially with the softened filter that adds a romantic and sweet atmosphere. Your face is poreless, hair smooth and body without a flaw. You wish you looked that good in reality.

Seokjin is even more magnetizing than you are, his expressions without a hint of awkwardness or tension. Though his best takes are the ones where he’s staring at you…..

You wonder why that is.

Without dwelling too much, you scroll down to the comments.

[Rookie Actress Y/N and Third Guy From The Left’s First Pictorial with CeCi]

1. [+4,955, -128] Third guy from the left strikes again! But who is this actress?

2. [+3,803, -80] Wow. They seriously look like a modern prince and princess!

3. [+3,076, -54] Thank you for washing my eyes. Ah~ it’s a visual paradise!!!

4. [+2,606, -79] F*cking crazy...beautiful people do live in another world.

5. [+1,921, -891] You have to admit that she’s really pretty too. It’s a fact that she’s a natural beauty.

6. [+683, -27] I’m so jealous of her. She must’ve saved an entire country in her past life to be standing next to him.

7. [+679, -52] But why does she need a bodyguard if she doesn’t have any fans? ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

8. [+656, -57] Is it true that he’s her bodyguard?

9. [+83, -79] ㅋㅋㅋBut why is the supposed bodyguard in the pictorial????? ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

You scroll past thousands of comments, silently agreeing with the ones that ask why your bodyguard would be in something like this. But your manager and the PR team were right. Your name is being taken with his and whatever fame Seokjin receives, you gain from it too.

In your apartment with the dim lights, you decide to look up his name in the search bar.

You’re aware it’s the worst thing you can do. You’ve been told by your manager and countless others to never search yourself up on the internet. Most comments are never kind and you don’t need an external source of criticism when you already internally self-deprecate yourself.

But the curiosity is too strong and ultimately wins over.

‘Third Guy From The Left Official Fan Club’ comes up and your mouth drops open. The membership to his official fan club is in the hundred thousands. When you look up at your name, one of the top sites is an anti-fan club. You decide to enter your official fancafe, only to find that it’s still at a hundred followers. It hasn’t shifted, not by one.

Why are you not surprised?

It’s not like you were ever good enough to be liked by other people anyways.

//

Seokjin gains a new name. From ‘Third Guy From The Left’, it has evolved into ‘Great Guy’.

There are gif sets of him walking down the street, browsing in stores, caught eating in restaurants all over twitter; clips of him put onto instagram, articles posted on instiz and nate. You’re always there in the corner of the photographs or clips too...occasionally blurred out.

Wherever you go, Seokjin’s paid to follow.

“I’m done.” You sniffle, lightly dabbing the sleeve of your sweater at your nose. “Let’s go.”

Seokjin opens the door to the restaurant and the cold air nabs at your skin. You shiver, turning around and catching the old owner lady attaching Seokjin’s signature to the wall, a request that she had asked him of when serving your food.

He continues to stare at you while you both walk alongside each other down the avenue. You can’t even go out to grab a meal in peace without your manager persisting that he joins you.

“Can you stop looking at me?” You spit out while you shake in your boots, the frost in the air kissing your forehead and cheeks. If you didn’t feel so lonely in your apartment, you would’ve called a taxi home by now.

“Were you crying?”

His whispered question causes you to stop on your heel. A frown inches its way between your brows, mind reeling if he heard your sniffling past the dingy door of the restaurant or if your eyes were still red. But you were confident upon looking in the mirror that your makeup wasn’t smudged and there was no difference in your face. Did you puffy eyes give it away?

You give him something between a scoff and a mocking chuckle, picking up your pace so he can’t have time to read your expression. “Don’t be ridiculous!”

No one’s ever been able to tell when you’re sad. You’ve always been too good at acting happy.

“S-sorry.”

A long exhale leaves your parted lips. “Don’t apologize.” There’s another extended silence and you steal a peek at Seokjin, only to find him already gazing at you. He immediately averts his stare when your eyes lock and he clears his throat, ears burning scarlet. You smile at his bashfulness, finding it easy to tease him. “You know, you were pretty good in the pictorial.”

His orbs light up. “Really?!”

“You’re good,” you admit with a nod. Doesn’t he already realize this when he looks into the mirror every morning? “Honestly, you might be a natural at it. I think you should look into some modeling agencies or talk to Soo-Ae about it. You could be famous.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I don't want to be famous, at least not like that. And I was only decent at it because you were there. I’m...I’m a pretty awkward person.”

“I don’t think so…” You pause, looking up at him with unintentional pouting lips. “I think you’re just a bit clumsy but it’s your charm. It’s a shame you don't want to become famous. You have star potential.” A bitterness lingers on your tongue of how he’s already gained recognition but you push it away before a green monster can take hostage of your soul again.

“But if you don’t want to enter this industry, what do you want to do?”

“I-.......I want to be a director.”

He tilts his chin up, staring at the faint stars of the sky, the ones that are unable to show the true potential with the bright city lights. You’re surprised by his answer, eyebrows shooting up to your hairline. You don’t know anything about Seokjin aside from his name. But ‘director’ was an answer you weren’t expecting.

“Really?”

He hums, eyes crinkling with his gentle smile. “I’ve always wanted to make a movie - make an entire universe inside my head come to life. If I could make others feel what I feel inside, if I can share the ideas in my mind, I think that would be a dream come true. Could you imagine? My story being told on the big screens. To work with screenwriters, actresses and actors, cinematographers and editors, all to fulfil a vision and create a masterpiece…..”

As he rambles on, you’re affected by his enthusiasm, unwittingly smiling with him. It’s powerful to hear someone as desperate as you are to make their ambitions come to fruition. Most often than not, you have to encourage yourself but to listen to Seokjin, you feel rejuvenated and refreshed.

“Well, you’re on the right track.” You tell him, acknowledging that building connections is vital. If Seokjin continues to linger around you, he’d get to know the people behind the scenes and he’d be that much closer to fulfilling his goals.

He grins. “It’s all thanks to you.”

“No.” You let your own sharp words seep into your skin like barbed wire. “I’m a nobody.”

“That’s not true!” Seokjin protests in a higher pitched voice, causing you to become startled. You glare at him and he sheepishly smiles. “This might be so embarrassing and I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable but you’re the one who’s made me come this far.”

You raise a brow. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve had this dream for a long time but it was only...a dream.” He stops to sit down at a bench. You don’t realize that you’ve become mesmerized. “And then I watched your film in theaters a few months ago….”

“When Spring Meets Autumn.” “When Spring Meets Autumn.”

The pair of you respond at the same time and he nods, smiling warmly at you. “I cried in the theater at the beginning scene, the car accident, and it was so good. I was moved and when I went home, I joined your fancafe. I read about your post, how you got to where you are..”

You still remember writing out three pages of your struggles, how difficult it was for you to get to where you are, how much discouragement you experienced along the way. You poured out your heart and soul but you didn’t expect anyone to read it….until now…

Seokjin gazes at you, becoming shy in your presence and flustered, downcasting his head and murmuring, “I admire you for going after what you want. You inspired me to pursue my dream. I’m a big fan of you, Y/N.”

I’m a big fan of you, Y/N. I’m a big fan of you, Y/N. I’m a big fan of you, Y/N.

The words and the deep timbre of his voice rumbles in the hollows of your skull. You’re absolutely stunned, jaw dropped, boring your pupils into his skin, shocked out of your mind. No strung syllables have sounded sweeter in your world. Your heart trembles and you muse that you’ve found your favourite sentence in the world-

I’m a big fan of you, Y/N.

It all makes sense. Why Seokjin is always so perplexed when you come into close contact with him, why he yelps when you take his hand, the reason he’s always staring at you, why he’s so shy….why he was there on the day of your Dispatch photoshoot, cheering and calling out your name in the background.

Seokjin is your number one fan.

(He might be your only fan).

Your entire life, you’ve had no recognition. Not from teachers or parents or friends. There have been comments full of hatred, discouragement, asking you who the hell you are and telling you how you’ll never make it in this industry. To be sitting in front of someone gleaming, blabbering on and chattering about how talented you are, how great you are, how gifted you are…

You almost want to cry.

“The way you were on the road, thinking about your best friend before you passed away...wow...your pronunciation and your expressions are so damn good. I bought the movie dvd and I think I watched it four or five times by now. Oh! I also watched your commercial, the CF of the NIJ pills and it was really cute. Did you think of the dialogue? It was great! I also admire the way you respond to fans’ comments. I can really feel your appreciation in each post-”

You latch onto his hands, feeling his cold fingers with your icy ones. Seokjin flinches upon the contact, eyes grown wide and your teeth sink into the bottom of your lip, holding in a waterfall of tears.

“Thank you. Thank you so much.”

He lolls his head to one side, blinking at you. “What for?”

Seokjin already feels excited to be sitting beside you and talking to you. It’s a dream that’s been fulfilled for him. When he received a call from your company, he couldn’t believe his ears and to meet you in real life, he thought he was going to have a heart attack. He already considers himself lucky to be such a successful fan and interact with his ultimate bias on a daily basis.

His stanning life is one whirlwind fantasy come true.

You open your mouth, about to pour out your gratitude for his endless support and apologize for the way you’ve been treating him but you’re unfortunately interrupted-

“E-excuse me…” A girl with long black hair and blunt bangs, still in her high school uniform leans over with her phone still in her hands. A horde of four other teenagers are off to the side, giggling beneath their palms. “Can we take a selca with you?”

Seokjin is befuddled, lips pouted, cheeks rounded and he nods slowly, getting up to meet the crowd. They line up, taking photos with him, getting his autograph. He soon gathers a crowd of other folks, all fangirling and screeching, bouncing up and down and quietly screaming, filming him with their mobile devices. The boy tries to satisfy everyone, rushing over to sign and smile while taking pictures, lost and confused amongst the chaos.

You smile to yourself, finally admitting there's no point in denying the obvious. Seokjin is rather cute.

//

With not much to do on a Sunday evening, you decide to hop onto Pann. It isn't a site where the general public goes; typically festered with idol fans and hate for popular groups, much like Nate, but you're still curious to see what people say about you on there. Unlike Naver where there are published articles made by journalists and news groups, here people can create their own pages and discussions, a forum for fans to freely express themselves and leave comments.

To your surprise, instead of being bashed to death, you discover something much different.

[enter-talk] COME FEAST YOUR EYES! MY OPT FAIRYTALE COUPLE~

-Wow, is this real??

-I’m not a fan but even I had to save these pictures..

-They're so so so cute together!!! I love them ㅠㅠ

-I think I'm in love with the both of them..

-Unbelievable..How can people look like this..

-Please date and last long you two!

-If they had kids, they would be crazy good looking..ah~ I’m jealous of their genes already..

You scroll up from the comments, studying the photographs that were caught by bystanders on the street who saw the pair of you walking by. There's the pictorial pictures, the original Dispatch images and photoshopped ones. You notice that Seokjin’s gaze always drips of honey when it's directed at you and your smiles always seem brighter when it's around him.

You stare for the longest time at the photos, agreeing that Seokjin’s face is indeed god-level….

Your finger holds down on the images, saving them all to your gallery.