#bff to enemies to lovers

[notllorstel]

making the eldest trolls siblings interact

[fixated-dark-king]

Sooo, I had the amazing experience of attending a panel C.S. Pacat was part of during the Sydney Writers’ Festival on 25th May 2024. The panel was called “Creating a Monster” (with two other YA authors).

And finally a week later (because adult-ing is hard), I had time to actually go through my notes and write up some of the fascccccinating things Pacat had to say about: monsterous heroes, and villains, and enemies-to-lovers deliciousness, and queer identity!

I didn’t want to forget some of the interesting things said in this panel and thought others might be interested in hearing about them too? Please indulge the splurge. :)

(Please note that all bold headers are just my thematic summary of each section for people to jump to, not the actual question asked.)

WHAT APPEALS ABOUT ‘THE MONSTROUS’ TO PACAT:

From a technical writing standpoint, the ‘Monstrous’ is appealing because a villain will often do an act and the hero reacts to that. It gives unconscious clues to the reader that when the villain turns up, something exciting is going to happen. In that sense, villainous characters have a special sort of ever-present attention given to them (possibly because human nature is to always keep one eye on the dangerous thing that could harm you).

On a personal level: A) When queer characters are awesome but also ‘Monstrous’, Pacat says it can feel really ‘electric’ and empowering to reclaim/allow yourself to embrace the monster role that you’ve been told you fit into by society. Like in Anne Rice’s Vampire Chronicles where queer people are allowed to be beautiful/glittering & powerful & witty & have existential conversations about good and evil while fitting under the Monstrous label. Like heck yeh, that’s cool. And B) as an author, you can feel a ‘minority pressure’ to have characters be Good all the time and be the perfect ambassador for that minority, but sometimes you just want to be a vampire and take over the world, you know?

THE EXISTENCE OF ‘PROTAGONIST-CENTRED MORALITY’ WITHIN THE DARK RISE BOOKS:

When pondering whether it is hard as a writer to convince readers that a Monstrous protagonist is a likeable character, Pacat pointed out that the funny thing is that the question ‘How am I going to make readers like this monster?’ never really ends up being an issue because people actually really like monsters! The thing you might not expect is that the struggle is actually: ‘How am I going to make these readers who are barracking for the protagonist feel that this ‘monster’ is actually monstrous?’

Pacat explained that when a protagonist is also a monster, it brings into play something called ‘Protagonist-Centric Morality’ -- where you bond with that protagonist and want the best for them etc, so much that it can obscure when the protagonist is actually doing something bad. Pacat mentioned that he has found the Protag-Centric Morality fairly striking in the case of the Dark Rise books because people have said to him things like: ‘The Dark King Did Nothing Wrong Ever In His Whole Life’ and Pacat questioned whether the moral centre of the story was landing somewhere different than intended. He was curious whether the other authors had experienced that with their ‘monstrous’ protagonists too.

IF A HERO IS ALSO MONSTROUS, HOW ON EARTH DO YOU DIFFERENTIATE THAT FROM THE VILLIAN? When pondering over the distinction between a Monstrous Hero and a Villain, Pacat shared some thoughts from his lived experience. He said the times when he has felt most threatened by the ‘Monstrous’ is when that person isn’t clearly identifiable to others around you; where there isn’t a shared understanding between everyone that ‘yes, that person is a monster’. Extending from that, the Truly Monstrous is when that person has some kind of control over you and control over the narrative as well; if the monster is the one telling the story but casting you as the monster. Essentially gaslighting via ‘narrative control’.

ENEMIES TO LOVERS TROPE:

This is Pacat’s absolute favourite romantic trope. And he elaborated that he doesn’t mean that in the sense of ‘these characters sort of don’t like each other’, but rather to the point where two characters really hate each other and for a very good reason. He likes when a path between two characters feels IMPOSSIBLE to overcome.

This trope was first explored in the Captive Prince trilogy and Pacat loved it so much he just had to use it again for the Dark Rise trilogy. The planning behind it for CaPri was brainstorming: ‘What is the worst thing I could think to use?’ (Answer: Killing a character’s brother, which lands the bereaved character into a set of hellish circumstances.) But that meant when Pacat decided to use it again for DR, he had to extend that to: ‘Now I need to think of something EVEN WORSE THAN THAT (CaPri)’ in order to separate the main characters. So Pacat had to spend ages thinking about what could be the absolute worst thing to use this time -- and he hopes that he came up with something that is ‘truly, truly way worse.’ Which essentially had everyone, including the moderator, laughing loudly in fear. XD

WILL KEMPEN: FOUND FAMILY & THE LONELINESS OF INAUTHENTICITY:

Pacat spent a lot of time trying to develop a really meaningful platonic friendship between Will and Violet. It meant a lot to see a friendship like that reflected on page for Pacat because some of the most important friendships of his life were across gender lines. The reception to Will and Violet has been so pleasantly surprising, so Pacat supposed he wasn’t the only one with a hunger for that kind of friendship within the romantasy genre.

Pacat also reflected on Will’s complex relationship with his Found Family -- that having the support of a Found Family can be so essential, but in Will’s case that lifeline is undermined by secrecy, turning that Found Family into a different kind of loneliness. Because the thing is: if something so immense happens to you that you feel you can’t talk about, or you feel some way about yourself but think you can’t share that with others, it means you can’t really be your authentic self. But if you’re not being you’re authentic self, who are your friends friends with? They can’t be friends with the true You; they can only be friends with a facade/with a performance. So as long as Will is scared to show his true self and remains hiding himself away from even his friends, he will be alone. It’s a hard step to take. (Note from me: so heavvvvy but poignant.)

NOT DR-RELATED, BUT PACAT’S FAV MONSTERS FROM POPULAR FICTION: Pacat was so excited to namedrop his favourite monsters from popular fiction, he volunteered to go first LOL. The answers: 'The Brat Prince' Lestat (Lestat has been on his mind a lot recently because the AMC TV portrayal captures Lestat so well & has completely rejuvenated Pacat’s 12 year-old love of vampires. Total mood); serial killers such as in the Ripley series; and simply: American Psycho.

Great panel, right? Now it’s Europe’s turn!

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

honestly i don’t see as much childhood friends to lovers with katsuki as i would like to and i feel like that’s criminal. like that is a criminal offense.

[buckrecs]

i wanted to request hockey player!bucky au or like any kinda sport but preferably hockey or baseball because i’ve only read like 3 fics about that AU but im obsessed with it

Athlete!Bucky

masterlist | req masterlist

I didn’t put any boxer bucky fics btw ! thinking about making a list just for it..

ONESHOT

My Everyday by @pellucid-constellations

Bucky Barnes was aggressive, annoying, and—worst of all—a hockey player. Not your type. At all. But, unfortunately, your roommate.

Touchdown by @buckyseternal

you decide to reward your boyfriend after he scores the winning touchdown.

A Little Superstitious by @jadedvibes

The school's football team needs a win and a certain blue-eyed player could use a kiss for good luck to help make that happen.

hail mary by @barnesafterglow

when you start sneaking around with your brother's best friend, it's only a matter of time until you get caught

Don’t End Today by @subwaysurf45

The day that you happily upgraded you from tutor to girlfriend all because of a few nice words.

Flirting and Football by @lovelybarnes

Bucky barnes and a college au where reader is the only one who isn’t interested in him basically

Anger Issues by @hailhydra920

You’re the only one who can calm Bucky down.

fair catch by @endless-summer-soldier

Y/N joins the football team to prove a point and the last thing Bucky expected out of the season was to fall for the new kicker

SERIES

For the Love of the Game by @pellucid-constellations

Bucky Barnes was a menace. NYU’s top baseball player, he was used to girls falling at his feet and could smooth talk his way out of just about anything. You hated him. He couldn’t figure out why. So when the novelty of weekend parties and quick hookups finally wore off—and his feelings for you began to grow—he made it his mission to fix it.

No Such Thing by @sanguineterrain

You’ve been assigned to write a column for your school paper on the team’s spectacular running back. You don’t care very much for your university’s football team; you just can’t understand the hype, okay? Turns out your distaste for football bigheads was exactly on point: James Barnes is insufferable.

Out Of Bounds by @foreverindreamlandd

The chaos fic that was supposed to be a one shot inspired by me binge-watching Ted Lasso and now there’s a masterlist lmao. Enjoy the ride!

ice ice baby by @endless-summer-soldier

Bucky is a college hockey player, Y/N is a figure skater without a partner. What's happens when these two opposites start sharing the ice...

Quarterback!Bucky x Assistant!Reader by @angrythingstarlight

ice ice baby by @endless-summer-soldier

Bucky is a college hockey player, Y/N is a figure skater without a partner. What's happens when these two opposites start sharing the ice...

[thesokovianaccords]

#steggyweek2k24 - day three - aus and crossovers

work in progress (a new girl au) After her dramatic breakup with Fred three days before their wedding, Peggy grabbed the first open flat she could find. She had imposed on Natasha’s hospitality for long enough, and even though the housing market in London was horrendous, she managed to snag a room in a lovely fourth floor loft flat six minutes from the Tube.  There was never a dull moment to be found in Flat 4b - the ongoing rivalry between James (Barnes) and James (Rhodes) over their names, the will they-won’t they of James (Barnes) and his handsome Air Force co-worker Sam (he of the perfect gumbo and even more perfect arms), the ongoing saga of Steve’s creative block and its many foibles, James’ (Rhodes) uber-wealthy friend and his long-suffering PA. Peggy was pulled into a whirlwind when she signed the lease, but she enjoyed every moment of the ride - her life with Fred had been so frightfully dull, and she secretly craved a bit of the chaos that seemed to always follow her flatmates around. She also (not-so) secretly craved something else too. Or rather, someone else. Her partner in crime in their ongoing war with the landlord, her late-night stress baking buddy (insomnia loves company, after all), her go-to concert date, and her nonstop support as she fought her way through her highly classified job. Peggy collected all these little moments with Steve - unconsciously at first. Until one day, she looked at him and realised he was everything she had been looking for. But that was complicated, wasn’t it? She couldn’t risk her little corner of imperfect paradise, but she also couldn’t stop thinking about abandoning all reason and dragging him through her bedroom door. What was a girl to do when everything she wanted most was right across the hall?

[thatguyatthetypewriter]

Random Prompt n°41

"I gave up listening to your whole monologue roughly half an hour ago."

"I've been talking for only two minutes-"

[skriveting]

Hello there! I know it's a bit cliché, but can you write some dialogue prompts about a girl thanking a guy because he gave her his jacket the last time they saw each other? Pretty please 🥺 Thank you 💗

Yes,yes,YES! Thanks for such a cute request <3

"Here's your coat, by the way. And, uh... thanks." "No sweat."

"Are you sure that's my jacket?" "Yes, I tried to wash it to get the stain out. Forgot I'd put shrink-detergent in the machine I guess..." "That's the funniest thing I've ever seen!" "I'm so so sorry!!"

"Thanks for last time, by the way." "What do you mean?" "When you lent me your jacket." "Oh, yeah. Remind me never to do that again. Can't have you walking around looking better in my clothes than I do."

"Just dropping by to return this." "Would it kill you to say thank you?" "Yes?"

"Shit, I meant to bring your jacket. Thanks, by the way." "You keep it." "What?" "It's probably full of girl-germs by now, anyway."

"I will say this once, and once only: Thank you."

"Do you want this back now?" "Don't worry about it." "Okay, thank you." "You know, I could get used to this." "Used to what?" "Seeing you in my clothes."

"Before I forget, thank you for last time, giving me your coat." "Don't mention it." "You know, it's funny." "What is?" "I didn't take you for the chivalrous type." "Love can do crazy things to a man." "Pardon?"

"Why'd you do that? What's your agenda?" "You know, you could just say thank you." "Sometimes it's like you don't know me at all."

"I can't believe you lent me your jacket, that thing is worth a fortune! I mean, thank you, but weren't you worried I'd ruin it?" "I'd let you ruin my clothes any day, princess. You know that."

[greenwith-ivy]

i think that the adults who are fans of childrens media fandom is sleeping on lego legends of chima tbh

[anitalenia]

━━━ .°˖✧ fake relationship ⋆˙⊹

꒰ঌ definition ໒꒱ 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑤𝑜 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑛𝑜 𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑐 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑐𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑔𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟. 𝑖𝑛 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑠𝑒𝑠, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑖𝑛 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ below you will find sub genres under this category, as well as some useful pairings for this trope. for educational writing purposes <3

note: several of these can also be used in other tropes as well, just depends on how you write it and interpret it.

╰₊✧ ﾟOTHER LINKS . ྀི ⊹ masterlist | romance tropes |

taglist | prompt list | symbol packs | dividers page

꒰ঌ group one ໒꒱

escort au / hire a sex worker to be your fake boyfriend or girlfriend | celebrities being together for publicity / marketing strategy | a character is trying to appear straight / this can be because family or friends don’t approve of sexuality | a character is trying to become a US citizen

꒰ঌ group two ໒꒱

a character is trying not to be deported | a character is showing up to a high school reunion and doesn’t want to look like a failure | a character wants to appear taken to discourage other people from making romantic gestures | a character wants to get overbearing family off their back about their love life

꒰ঌ group three ໒꒱

a character wants to make their real love interest jealous | a guy is saving a girl from being harassed in public by posing as her boyfriend | one person doesn’t want to go to a wedding alone | your friend already said you’d be their date without asking

꒰ঌ group four ໒꒱

each of them want to make their exes jealous | they’re playing a prank on other people | only dating a person because they want attention | a girl dating a guy her father doesn’t approve of | paying them to date you because you want to be popular too

꒰ঌ group five ໒꒱

fake dating as a disguise | two spies having to be pretend married at a party | two strangers under witness protection that are together | a peasant being the royals date to a ball | getting married with no real love between each other for the benefits (insurance, money, inheritances)

꒰ঌ group six ໒꒱

going to a family reunion and nobody knows you broke with your actual partner so you bring someone to play along as them | you’re not ready to tell family or friends that you two broke up so you fake it

will update when I think of new ones. hope this helps if you’re not sure what story to tell but you want something new <3

[mrs-bucky-barnes106]

Lover

au: college (Rutgers University iykyk :)

trope: strangers to lovers, getting back w ex

pairing: basketball player!bucky x artist!reader

warnings: fluff, angst, heartbreak

a/n: ahhh this is my first series!! i'm so so excited and i hope you guys love it as much as i do

౨ৎ

❥ Chapter 1: You Need to Calm Down

[d-eathvalley]

huge missed opportunity: donghee and grace not becoming gfs like it was RIGHT THERE omg

[streamafterlaughter]

Fundamental Differing

masterlist | playlist | pin board | chapter X

Chapter XI: Consider This The Slip

summary: the aftermath of a rough night is surprisingly calm. things might be a mess, but you’re handling it as well as you possibly could. for now, at least, things are going to be okay.

tags: angst!!!!! hurt/comfort, flirting, forced proximity, slow burn, mutual pining, fake dating, rockstar!eddie x rockstar!gn!reader, bff!robin and bff!steve

a/n: HIIIIII i’m really proud of how this turned out, very excited to get to the midwest leg of the tour soon! Disclaimer: I do not give permission to have my work reposted on other sites. Reblogs are more than welcome, but please inform me if you find my work elsewhere unless otherwise stated. Reblog to support the author!

—

December 1985

He wakes up first, the sunlight peeking through your open blinds hitting the bed. You’re still asleep, regardless of the rays hitting your entire body, and Eddie can’t help but stare. Your back is to him, the covers thrown from your body in your sleep, leaving your entire backside exposed. He traces your silhouette first with his eyes, letting them roam freely over your neck that still has remnants of his teeth, your shoulders, down your back, to your hips, and over your ass where the comforter barely covers you. Without thinking, Eddie traces the muscles on your back with a lazy finger, committing every inch to his memory.

He lets his mind wander, mostly to how unbelievable this whole situation is. To have someone to wake up to, that trusts him enough to let him sleep in their bed, that loves him, is something he never could have counted on. In a way, it terrifies him, that it’s all too good to be true. One day, he’s sure you’ll wake up and realize what a mistake you’ve made. He shakes his head at himself, ridding the thought from his mind. You’ve given him no reason to worry, he’s doing this to himself.

Present Day

Eddie’s POV

Your new look is, well, interesting to say the least. He does a double take when you get on stage, a hand flying to cover his gaping mouth. He looks from the stage, to Steve, then back to the stage.

Steve shakes his head, mouthing I don’t fuckin’ know! And Eddie snorts. You’re definitely going through something, but that doesn’t mean the haircut itself isnt fucking hilarious.

After what feels like forever, you finish your last song and exit the stage. Eddie is quick to follow you, catching up with your angry stomping. “Nice ‘do.” He nudges you as he falls in step. “Where can I get me one of those. What’s it called? The ‘Stuck In The Blender’?”

“It’s actually called leave me the fuck alone, Eddie.” You spit back, trying to speed walk away, but he keeps your pace.

“Why’d you do that?” He makes a point to sound genuine, because despite himself, he still worries about you.

You shrug. “Felt like it.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “C’mon, what’s buggin’ you?

“Honestly?” You halt, making Eddie stop short and trip on his own feet. “You. You’re bugging me.”

It’s a jab to his ego, and he feels an ache in his chest. “Me?”

You nod, growing frantic. “You! You keep, y’know, showing up.” You wave your hands around as you speak, as if it’ll get your point across.

“I- I’m sorry, I think? I can’t really help that. We are stuck on tour together, we kinda have no choice but to show up.” His brain works quickly, trying to make sense of your words. “Is this about the song? Earlier? I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, it came out wrong. I want to write the song with you, even if we don’t-“

You wave your hand to stop him, and he does. “No, no. It’s not just that. It’s me. I’m stressed out, I don’t like that my label wants us to date. I don’t like that we’re touring together. I don’t like that I-“ You cut yourself off. “Never mind.”

“What? You don’t like when you what? Whatever it is, I won’t judge, I won’t even say a word.”

You shake your head, keeping your eyes on the sticky club floor. “Nothing.”

“Y/n.” Eddie fights the urge to reach for you, to pull you in and wrap his arms around you. He forgets what it even feels like to hold you now, what your warmth feels like.

“Eddie, really. Nothing.” And that’s final. The two of you don’t say anything until you reach the dressing room, where Eddie bids you goodnight, and is meant with a grunt as you close the door in his face.

He doesn’t have long to collect his thoughts before Robin’s behind him. “What did you do?”

He pivots, groaning. “Nothing! I- I don’t know! They won’t tell me!”

She crosses her arm, waiting for him to finish yammering. “Uh huh. Now use your tiny little boy brain.” Eddie looks for clues on her face, but gets nothing from her irritated expression. He shrugs, exasperated and defeated. “I’ll give you a teeny, tiny hint. Think about it. Why did they never tell you they got signed? Why did they never ask you for help when it came to video shoots or recording, or anything like that? Why were they so fine not coming to shows with you while you were dating?”

It takes him a second, but he gets there “Oh.” You don’t want your success to be credited to him. You want to make your own name, your own art, without being associated with Eddie. You don’t want people believing you slept your way to the top.

“Yeah, oh. You’re still so blind to how they feel, Ed, it is so irritating to watch. And before you even think about it, don’t ask me for advice. I can’t tell you anything you don’t already know. Now, if you would get out of my way, I have a friend to comfort.” She nudges Eddie with her shoulder, entering the dressing room and slamming the door behind her.

—

Your POV

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why would I do that? Why am I being so fucking embarrassing?

You’re aggressively splashing your warm face with cool water when Robin knocks on the bathroom door. “Occupied!” You flinch when you hear the sound of your strained voice, sounding how you feared it would: like you’d been crying.

“It’s me,” Robin’s voice is low, but you crack the door enough to peer out and see her standing there. “Can I come in?” You nod, and open the door just enough to let her squeeze inside. You turn the faucet back on to drown your voices out. You’ve finished crying, your face red and your eyes puffy. You sniffle, and Robin takes you in as you try to disappear. “Can you please, please tell me what’s actually going on? You can’t keep walking around like you’re fine and then pull a stunt like this. We worry.”

You cross your arms, taking in her words to heart as you try to breathe evenly. “This doesn’t leave the room.” She nods. “Not even to Steve.” You clarify, and she only keeps nodding. You want to believe her, so you do. “I’ve been worse, lately. Not sleeping, not feeling like myself. I wanted to do something drastic, so I chose to do this,” you gesture to your horrible haircut, “instead of something… bad.”

Robin makes a noise like she understands. She doesn’t, not really, but you don’t feel like giving her the gory details. “Okay, so how are we gonna fix it?”

You turn to face the mirror. One side is longer than the other, making you look like you’ve got a permanent kink in your neck. Your bangs are choppy, and the ends are cut bluntly, like you sawed them off. “I figure Harley’s seen the damage, or at least heard by now. Maybe she’ll forgive me and fix it. I don’t know if I wanna face her wrath, though.” You feel a burning in your throat, and you stifle an ugly sob as you take in your appearance.

“I may have an idea. You gotta trust me, though.” Robin’s eyes meet yours in the mirror. You’ve trusted her with your life, so you don’t see a reason you can’t trust her with your hair. “We have to wait for Eddie, though.”

Ah, fuck.

—

Eddie’s POV

He walks offstage, waving to the audience still screaming his name. He tosses his sweat soaked shirt over his shoulder, and follows the rest of the band to their dressing room. When he gets close enough, he notices you and Robin waiting outside, having a hushed discussion when he approaches.

“Eddie!” Robin greets, far too cheerfully for the way she’s been acting toward him lately. “We need your help.” Her tone suggests it’s not a question.

Eddie leans against the wall, fighting the urge to light a cigarette already. “With?” Robin motions to your hair, and he snorts. “You want me to… what, exactly?”

“Fix it. I want you to fix it.” You say meekly. “Please?” You add, looking up finally. Of course he’s gonna do it, even with that haircut he’d do anything you asked him to. “I have a feeling Harley’s gonna kill me if she gets to it first.”

Eddie chuckles, and he thinks he catches the beginning of your smile twitching on your face. “Okay, yeah. I’ll fix it. But I need something from you.”

“Depends what it is.” You cross your arms over your chest, defensive.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be negotiating, sweetheart.” He bites his lip as soon as he says it, the old nickname slipping out like a bad habit. “Sorry.”

You don’t respond, but you enter the room like he’s invited you, and Robin follows closely. Before Eddie can enter, though, she turns around. “Go easy. They’re not in a good place right now. They need gentle hands.”

Eddie nods. “I can be gentle.”

Robin only nods in response. “Alright, I’ll leave you guys to it. I’m gonna take a nap before we get on the road. Have fun!”

“You aren’t staying?” You call out to Robin, and Eddie’s heart sinks. You still don’t want to be alone with him.

“You’ll be okay! Scream if you need me!” Robin exits the dressing room, waving on her way.

Eddie turns his radio down, lowering the blasting of R.E.M.’s Losing My Religion to a dull hum. He turns to you, standing in the middle of the dressing room while the guys gather their things to pack the bus. Eddie fills them in, apologizing for not helping them load.

“It’s fine, man. Y/n needs you more right now, I think.” Gareth says, and not with any malice. He glances at you, then back to Eddie. “How are you gonna fix that?”

Eddie shakes his head. “I have maybe one semi decent idea.” Gareth nods, and follows his band out the door.

“Okay,” Eddie turns back to you, clapping his hands together. “Let’s see what we got here. Go ahead and sit down.” Eddie motions to the vanity mirror, and you take a seat in his chair. The lights are bright on your face, and Eddie does everything he can not to stare. Your eyes are bloodshot, your cheeks red and puffy. He sees the tear stains and red nose, the giveaways that you’ve been crying. He knows you don’t usually care this much about your appearance. Something else is doing this to you, and he’s determined to figure out what it is.

He grabs a towel from his suitcase and drapes it over your front, a makeshift smock, knotting it together in the back with a stray hair tie. He’s nervous, being so close to you like this, while you put your trust in his abilities. He grabs his scissors and a comb in shaky hands, and forces himself to relax.

“You don’t have to do this, y’know.” You say quietly, almost a whisper.

“I wanna help. If you’re okay with it.” He looks at you in the mirror, meeting your eyes a second before you look away.

“Okay. Sorry, it’s really bad.”

Eddie shakes his head. “Nothing we can’t fix.” He’s not sure that’s true, but he’ll be damned if he upsets you further. He gets to work, snipping longer pieces and evening out the back. As he does, he becomes less nervous about how it will come out. It’ll be much shorter, sure, but at least it won’t look like you cut it with a weedwacker.

The silence starts to get to him. “Why’d you do it, really?” Eddie asks, not meeting your eyes.

“I wanted to feel in control.” Your answer surprises him.

“Are you feeling out of control?”

You scoff. “Yeah, very. Are you not?”

Eddie shrugs. “I’ve never felt in control. It’s never bothered me.” He likes the chaos, the unpredictability.

“I dunno. Maybe it’s tour fatigue. Sleeping on a bus, being up all the time. Can’t be too good for me.”

“How are you sleeping?” He asks, not thinking of how it must sound.

“Not well, not since tour started.”

Eddie nods. “Buses aren’t ideal, but you get used to it.” He makes a few more cuts, then stands back to admire his work. “Voila!”

You inspect your new hair in the mirror. It’s short, resting just below your jaw in choppy layers. Your bangs are still short, but they fall evenly across your forehead. You look fantastic, but Eddie already knows you can pull any hairstyle off.

“Wow. I did not know you could do that.” You turn your head to inspect the side view. “Thank you. So, so much.”

Eddie unties the towel from around your neck. “Anytime.”

“What did you want for it?” You ask, standing up to face him.

“What? Oh,” He’d forgotten he said he needed anything from you. “I uh, I want help with my makeup.”

—

Your POV

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Eddie nods, blushing. “I can’t put eyeliner on to save my life. All the rockstars do it, and I think it looks sick. But I don’t even know where to start.”

You nod, choosing not to take the opportunity to poke fun at him. He did just save your hair, after all. “Okay. Do you have any?”

“Yeah,” He grabs the toiletry back off the vanity and pulls out a black pencil with no cap. You pluck it from his fingers and motion for him to sit in the chair. He does, but his head isn’t close enough to you, so you shake your head.

“Here, sit on the counter,” you pat the top of the vanity, and he repositions himself. Sitting here, he’s about exactly your height, eyes level with yours. You take a step closer, closing the gap between you and him almost completely. You repeat a prayer in your head, not to lose your cool being so close to his face, his eyes, his lips.

You clear your throat to break the silence. “So, I have a trick,” you dig around in your pockets until you locate your lighter. “I melt the tip to make it easier to apply. Like this,” You flick the lighter, and hold the tip of the pencil to the flame for barely a few seconds. “But don’t, like, apply it right away. Don’t wanna blind yourself.” You blow on the pencil to cool it down just enough to use. “Look up, but with your eyes not your head.” Eddie tilts his head up, and immediately realizes his mistake. You giggle as he readjusts. “Good. Stay still.” Here comes the hard part. The part where you have to touch his face. You place your thumb under his eye, pulling the bottom lid open just slightly to gain access to his waterline. You take the pencil and drag it across, trying to go quickly so this torture can be over for both of you.

“How do you do this every night? This shit sucks.” Eddie talks as you focus, and you can feel his face moving under your hand.

“Beauty is pain.” You reply, switching to his other eye.

“This isn’t beauty, it’s metal.”

You can’t help but giggle. “Of course. Mean and scary.” You wipe a bit of excess eyeliner from under his eye. “Tada!”

Eddie turns around in his seat to look into the mirror. “Oh, I look sexy!” He exclaims, and you have to bite so hard on your tongue to keep from responding. The feeling in your stomach is back, like a flock of birds banging around in your intestines. Eddie turns back to look at you. “Thank you.”

You nod, still too close to his face. “Anytime.” The silence after is deafening. Your ears are ringing and you’re not sure whether it’s from the show or from the quiet between you two.

Eddie clears his throat after what feels like forever. “I gotta, uh,” He motions vaguely to the door.

You realize you’ve planted yourself between his legs, and clumsily back away from him. “Sorry! Sorry. Yeah, I should probably get going too. I’ll uh, see you later? When we leave together to please the public?”

Eddie nods, and you turn on your heel and speed walk the fuck out of there.

—

Eddie’s POV

He’s fucked. He’s fucked so bad, and he can’t do anything about it. He can still smell your perfume, mixed with the slightest amount of sweat after performing, and a little like beer that probably spilled onstage. He feels your hand caressing his face gently, and your warm breath against his skin as you concentrate. If he closes his eyes, you’re back again, leaning into him, lips closing in on his.

“You ready?” Gareth comes back in, but stops short when Eddie opens his eyes. “Shit, man, you look good! You do that?” He wiggles a finger, gesturing to Eddie’s eyes.

“Nah, uh, Y/n helped me out.”

“Oh?” His tone is teasing. “Glad you guys are still getting along. Speaking of, I just saw them. Nice job on the hair.”

Eddie grins. “Thanks, man.”

“Let’s get goin’, yeah? Washington tomorrow’s gonna be insane. You need the rest.”

Eddie nods. “I’ll catch up, I got a few things to grab first.” Gareth nods, and leaves the dressing room.

—

You’re waiting by the stage door when Eddie approaches. “You still got it on, huh?” You smile up at him, and his heart rate quickens.

“I gotta show it off while I can, there’s no way I’ll be able to do it this well.” He holds out his hand, already feeling it sweat. “Shall we?”

You grab his hand after half a beat of hesitation, entwining your fingers with his. It’s the most natural feeling in the world, your skin against his. He squeezes it gently, and feels you squeeze back, a silent exchange of reassurance.

Steve flings the door open, and Eddie’s immediately blinded by the camera flashes. Crowds of fans and paparazzi alike start shouting, crude comments and questions alike.

“Do you need a third?!” “How long have you been dating?!” “Is this a rekindled love?!” “Over here, over here!”

Eddie does his gentlemanly duty, shielding you as best as he can with his body, opening his jacket to block the view of the cameras. You’re hurried into the bus by Steve, who slams the door behind him and heaves a deep breath like he’s just run a marathon.

“Thanks, big guy.” Eddie pats Steve on the back.

“So, uh,” You let go of Eddie’s hand, and he bites back his disappointment. “How do I get back on my own bus?”

Steve checks his watch. “We’ll probably stop to get food in a bit. You can reunite on your bus in a few hours.”

Eddie whips his head to look at Steve. “A few hours?”

Steve shrugs. “It would look weird if Y/n were to just walk back out now. There’s no point in stopping until we get food, and everyone’s too hungry to wait for you guys to sort your shit. Get comfy, Y/n. Welcome to the Coffin.” Steve pushes past you both grumpily, and Eddie watches you follow.

—

Your POV

“Hey.” You tap Steve’s shoulder once you’ve caught up to him by the bunks. “What’s your deal?”

Steve grunts. “Tired. And irritated.”

“Why?”

“I'm sick of being out of the loop. I have no idea what’s going on with you two. First your hair’s all fucked up, now Eddie’s wearing makeup and you look like a rockstar again. What the hell did I miss?”

You shrug, fighting the urge to tell him everything. “Bad night, gave myself a makeunder. Eddie helped me fix it to avoid Harley’s fury. I showed him how to do his eyeliner in return. No biggie.”

Steve sighs. “Okay,” he says, clearly dissatisfied. “As long as I'm not missing anything important.”

You scoff. “Like what?”

“Like you falling back into love or something. Because I'm still betting on you two.”

“Okay, enough! I'm gonna take a nap. Wake me when we’re getting food.” You go to enter an empty bunk.

Steve stops you with a grunt. “Those are taken. Eddie’s room’s back there,” he points to the sliding door behind him.

“I’d rather sleep on the roof.”

“Sorry, I can’t allow that. Eddie has room for a second person, not that he’s used it.” You try to decode Steve’s cryptism to no avail. Why would you care if he’s used the extra space? Defeated, you shuffle off to Eddie’s tiny room, curling up against the wall in the uncomfortable twin bed. It doesn’t take long before you’re unconscious.

—

Eddie’s POV

“Alright, I’m tapping out.” Eddie puts his hand on the table of the tiny booth. “Gonna rest up before we get to Seattle. G’night.” The guys wave him off, and Eddie slides the door open to his bed. Behind it, you’re sprawled on the tiny bed, laying on your stomach with an arm up on either side of your head. Your mouth hangs open as you snore softly, mumbling every few seconds something incoherent.

The last thing he wants to do is wake you up. Instead, he slides the door closed again and pivots to face Steve. “They’re in my bed.”

Steve mumbles something before flipping over to face Eddie. “So wake them up.”

“They had a rough day, I wanna let them sleep.”

“Then fuckin’ sleep somewhere else. Leave me out of it, like you do everything else.” Steve flips back over to face the wall after yanking the curtain shut. Eddie huffs in annoyance, and opens his bedroom door again.

You’ve moved, now on your side facing the wall. There’s a sliver of floor next to the bed, barely wide enough to fit a person, but it’ll have to do for now. His bones ache with fatigue, and his head is starting to hurt. As he goes to pull a pillow from the bed, he hears you. He can’t tell if you’re awake, so he waits a beat. You repeat yourself, “Just get in.”

“What?” Eddie whispers, in case you’re sleep talking again.

You roll over, your eyes wide open. “Lie down. It’s only an hour or two until we stop and I can get off. You’re tired, I’m tired. Not a big deal.”

Before he can respond, you’ve turned around again, pulling the blanket up to your chin. The bed is small, leaving no way for Eddie to lie next to you without touching you. He winces as his chest brushes against your back, but he lowers himself into the bed anyway. He lay stiffly, careful not to disturb you again, but you stir slightly, pressing into his chest. It takes all of his reserve not to throw his arm around your waist and drag you closer, but he rests his hand on his leg instead. Your warmth lulls him to sleep in minutes.

—

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[masked-alien-lesbian]

I really love that a choice from way in the beginning of the book is brought up several times and actually effects the dialogue several chapters later.

[cannibalcoyote]

David Bowie: Sun Rays and Rainy Days

Imagine not liking David Bowie, and running into him during your stay in New York:

David Bowie, an amazing musician and actor, but also my worst enemy.

Why? Let's just say he said some not so flattering things about me to the press and wrote a not so flattering song that criticized pretty much my entire life. We haven't even met in real life, so I'm not sure where he gets off on the idea that anything he says about me holds meaning or truth.

I just really want to ask him what prompted him to write and say such cruel things about me, but I'm getting ahead of myself. My name is Y/N L/N, and I'm an American musician, my genres include hard rock, punk, alternative rock, and art rock; I would say I'm a fairly famous musician in the US and across Europe.

———————

The sky was unrealistically blue this early New York morning, like God had woken up and decided that only the bluest of blue would do today.

Most people enjoy blue skies, but being raised in California makes you either adore or detest them with an undying passion. I personally love rainy weather, so this day is already starting off on the wrong foot.

Checking the clock I sigh in wariness, already feeling tired even though I just woke up. I've been feeling anxious every time I wake up, this only started earlier this year due to the fact that a certain idol of mine has been voicing their negative opinion on me.

I'd normally brush it off and say 'fuck them', but this is David Bowie we're talking about. I love his music, I love his story, most importantly how he went through so many hardships yet still pushed forward.

Now I just regret ever thinking any of this was a good idea, sure all the money is nice, but all my relationships fell through. They started expecting me to pay for everything, wanting me to take them on expensive vacations and get them expensive gifts; now my idol feels the need to hate me as well? Just great.

I'm shook from my thoughts by the stern but smooth voice of my manager. He's a nice man, kind of reminds me of my father in his overall outward aura of professionalism, but a sharp streak of eccentricity shows when you really get to know him.

"Y/N, you've got an interview at 5, that should give you a couple of hours to wander around. Please keep your disguise on this time, I don't need a repeat of London." My manager exclaims with a humorous smile, my face burning in embarrassment at the memory of London. I had been wandering the streets and stupidly decided that it was late enough that no one would be able to recognize me, also being naive and believing I wasn't famous enough to be recognized yet ... Oh how wrong I was. The crowd that formed filled up the streets, I was newly famous, so I didn't expect anyone to recognize me, but the world felt the need to prove me wrong.

"No need to worry, I learned my lesson." I smile sheepishly, he softly pats my shoulder before leaving my hotel room.

Glancing in the mirror I swiftly start fixing my hair and checking my outfit, my mind wandering to my plans. I'm meeting an interviewer today, he's supposed to be a bit of an aggressive one, a little rude from what I've seen, and no questions are out of bounds.

To say I'm a little nervous is an understatement, this is the first interview I've accepted in my 3 years of stardom, so I'm sure he'll be extra aggressive in order to get as many details as possible. I just hope he doesn't bring up the conflict with Bowie, because I really don't have a reason as to how that even started.

———————

My day hasn't actually been that bad, no one has recognized me, so I just got to spend the day as a normal person. I moseyed along the sidewalks, just taking in the hectic environment that is New York. I've been walking around for quite a bit now, stopping in some stores and looking for interesting books to read in my off-time.

I've just bought a sketchbook and some pens when I notice some people that set me on edge. They're about 10 feet away from me, and they're giving me the "is that who I think it is" look. I gulp stiffly as a nervous chill passes down my spine, quickly thanking the cashier as I grab my things and stumble out of the store.

Looking back I can see them follow me, one of them shouting out to me.

"Are you Y/N L/N?" My throat tightens up, I look around frantically, and my fears seem to be coming true. The people on the crowded sidewalks immediately turn their heads at hearing my name. I can see some look for a little, clearly being confused before seeing through my disguise and noticing that it is me.

People start rushing forward, holding out things and excitedly asking for an autograph, something that I usually oblige to, but I am currently in a New York street with no security and no cellphone.

I'm being surrounded, some people are grabbing my shoulders, some pulling on the sleeves of my jacket in the hopes of gaining my attention. All it does is make me frightened, the London event gave me a permanent fear of crowds. I can feel myself start to hyperventilate, all the shouts are turning into one sound, it's so loud yet so quiet at the same time.

My mind is so distorted that I don't even notice I've been running, shoving my way out and being dreadfully aware of how they chase me. Camera flashes are coming from every direction, as are new people fanatically asking for an autograph or a picture; it's all so scary. Why do these people chase me? Why do they swarm around me to get some ink lines on a piece of paper? Why?

I turn a corner in hopes of slickly escaping, but suddenly find myself on the floor, having run into a rather solid chest. I exclaim an apology as I messily stand up, trying to make a run for it, but the person already has a hold on my arms to stop my escape.

"Hold on darling, what are you running from?" I recognize that voice, I look up and want to gasp in both surprise and fear, but the reappearance of the crowd stops me.

"That." I state, staring at the crowd and beginning to hyperventilate again, but I'm stopped when I find myself being swiftly dragged away. I have a hard time keeping up, he is about 5 inches taller than me after all, so he's like one step to every two of mine.

I don't know where he's taking me at first, but when I see the awaiting limo I find myself rushing forward in a burst of speed; dragging him next to me.

He does slap my hand away from the door before opening it and ushering me in before entering.

"Hello John, can you get us out of here." His accented tone is stressed, but still maintains an air of control. I used to love that voice, but now it makes me uncomfortable being so close to him and having to hear him in real life.

I move away from him, pushing myself up against the opposite door and looking at anything but him. The crowd was about 3 yards away when the limo screeched forward, my body finally releasing some of its rigidity as I see them disappear the longer we drive.

I close my eyes, leaning back in my seat as the exhaustion sweeps through me. I rest my hand against my forehead in frustration, in the next hour, all of New York will know I was spotted here and come looking for me. How am I supposed to get in contact with my manager, I don't have a cell, and I can't go asking strangers to borrow theirs.

My mind wants to continue its frustrated tirade, but I am startled out of it by a large hand softly tapping my shoulder. I look over and see a curious David Bowie, offering me a sheepish smile at having distracted me.

"Allo luv." His lovely voice politely rings through the car, I almost want to ask him if he'll write a song with me, but then the harsh reality of everything he's said smacks me in the face.

"Don't call me that." I didn't snap, but my voice was stern, letting him know that this is going to be a tense conversation. His smile falters, clearly not used to being met with such disdain.

"Well... What did you do to get that crowd chasing you?" He brushes off our tense beginning, clearly still curious as to why I was being chased. I glance into his calming eyes and realize he doesn't recognize me, or at least that's what I'm assuming. If he did recognize me, I doubt he would've ushered me into his limo so quickly.

"I don't think we've been formally introduced. My name is Y/N L/N." He raises his eyebrows in surprise at my sudden words, but his face is now cautious, looking at me as though I've just lied straight to his face. Sighing in irritation I pull off my gray fedora and sunglasses before gently removing my wig to show my short hair. He sits back in shock, facing away from me as his eyes fall to his hands.

"... Oh." The car falls back into silence, he clearly doesn't know how to respond. I roll my eyes as I shove the wig into my handbag, hooking the glasses to my shirt before replacing the hat back upon my head. I feel slightly flustered at being saved by him, I should at least thank him, but I think that can wait until I get out of the car.

"...Um. Where would you like me to go, sir?" David looks startled from his haze, quickly glancing to me before back to his driver. He's about to speak when a loud noise startles everyone in the car, closely followed by the sharp hits of water on the windshield. I immediately look out the window, being met with the unexpected view of storm clouds completely filling the once blue sky. I want to smile, I love rain and thunder, but I have no idea what my address is, and I am certainly not dressed for the rain.

"What? Don't like rain Mrs.L/N?" David's irritatingly attractive voice grabs my attention. I look over to him before back to the rain.

"No.. I actually love the rain, and it's Miss, not Mrs." I respond, watching as the rain drops drizzle down the windows. The people on the streets hurriedly running for cover, seemingly as surprised by the rain as I am.

"Drop me off on that street corner, I'll find my way home from there." I say, not looking at David or the driver.

"What do you mean you'll find your way home? Don't you know your address?" David's voice is clearly distressed at the thought of just dropping me off on the corner of a random street. It's my turn to sheepishly smile, scratching the back of my head as I shake my head 'no'. The driver pulls the car over, coming to halt on a quiet street.

I reach my hand over to the handle, but I'm interrupted by David grabbing arm, his grasp gently but firm. His looks so concerned that I almost pity him.

"Don't go, at least let me drop you off at a restaurant or something... " His sentence drops off at the end, clearly hoping I'll give in, but I am in no mood to deal with any of this today. I pull myself from his grasp, opening the door and stepping out; the cold rain sends a refreshing chill down my spine. I turn away, readjusting my hat and bag, much too busy to notice David getting out after me.

"It's much too cold for you out here darling. Let me drop you somewhere safer than this at least." I can tell he's getting desperate at this point, but it really only makes me angry. How dare he say these things to me after bad mouthing me.

"How dare you act like you care about me." My words are unexpected to both of us, I didn't mean to speak my thoughts, but I guess I can't stop now. I turn around and face him, having to look up at his face due to the unfair height difference.

"You say the most awful things about me to the press, you make fun of my music, then you make fun of my life choices? Now you stand here acting all worried about my well-being?" My voice is equally as distressed as his expression, he clearly wasn't expecting my aggressive response. I take a step forward into his personal space, poking my pointer finger harshly against his chest as I glare into his eyes.

"You were one of the people I looked up to. We had never even met when I randomly heard you say I was some whore who somehow worked her way up to the top." My words are slurring, and my eyes are burning a bit. I don't know why I'm getting so emotional, maybe it's because I was so heartbroken at hearing him kick dirt on my name, or maybe it's because I stupidly gave his opinion a place in my mind.

I didn't even notice that my tears had escaped my eyes and were carving paths down my face until he brought his hands up to cup my jaw. His touch was so gentle as he wiped away my tears, so excessively tender I started to think I was made of thin glass that could be snapped in half.

"I was scared... I was scared, okay? And I know that's not an excuse, and I am sorry." His tone feels rushed yet hesitant, like he doesn't want me to even think about running off. I look straight into his eyes, finally seeing the guilt coursing through them in waves.

"Scared? Of what?" I'm so confused, why would he ever be scared of me? I was only barely a celebrity when he said those remarks, I was no threat.

"You... God, I was scared of you Y/N. You and your lovely young face, with your beautiful voice." He smiles, almost as though finally coming to a realization. I want to speak, but he continues.

"You came out of nowhere and took the world for a spin, I know you don't think you're very famous, but the entire world knows your name darling. You did that in such a small amount of time, I couldn't help but feel I would be forgotten. I know that it is a selfish thing to do, but I promise I'll make it right." I still feel unsure,

"How can I ever trust you, I admired you and you shoved that in my face." I back up and away from him, my arms wrapping around my body in search of both comfort and warmth.

"Well, I guess you'll only know if you give me the chance." His expression is so vulnerable and honest, his hair falling slightly into his face as he tilts his head down towards mine.

"Please, darling... Come with me, let me show you I'm not the awful prick you think I am." His surprisingly warm hands enclose around mine, their warmth causing the rest of my body to shiver, finally acknowledging the fact that we've been letting the rain drench our bodies for about 7 minutes now.

All I can do is nod my head as he brings an arm around my shoulders, quickly leading me back to the awaiting car. Helping me first before following after. I shiver weakly, David notices and has our driver turn the heat up, but we both know it'll do very little.

"Oh I'm sorry darling, let me take you back to mine and we'll get you a fresh change of clothes." I don't know why I'm suddenly so quiet, but all I can really do in response is nod my head. I take my wet hat off, tossing it down near my feet before once again wrapping my arms around myself.

———————

David Bowie's POV:

Oh, she looks so small all hunched over and wrapped in herself. I still feel guilty about what I'd said about her, I had no right making any of those claims, it was disgustingly immature what I did. All I know is that I need to make it up to her.

I must admit that I didn't expect to meet her today, I didn't even know she lived in New York.

"Do you live here Y/N? Maybe we could go to yours instead if you prefer?"

"No, I've been in a hotel, only got here 2 days ago and never made the effort to remember it's name." Ah, well, that's good to know. Looking back over to her I see her still shivering, clearly the heater is doing nothing for her. I shrug off my wet coat and shove it to the side before shifting closer to her and wrapping her up in my arms. Her body stiffens at the contact, but I can tell my body warmth is attractive to her from the way she pushes into me.

"Is this alright, love?" I don't know why I keep calling her these pet names, maybe it's because I like making her flustered. I feel her nod her head 'yes', I smile as I rest my head lightly atop hers. We stay like that until we stop in front of my hotel.

Grabbing my jacket I quickly wrap it around her small form, she opens her mouth to protest, but I silence her with my stern gaze. I swipe her hat from her hands and carefully place it atop her head, giving her a gentle smile before hopping out of the car helping her out.

We rush through the rain, laughing as we go, I hold the door open and usher her inside. We look so messy and out of place in this fancy hotel, but I ignore the looks we get, instead opting to gaze adoringly at this spit-fire of a woman I have on my arm. As we get in the elevator and wait for my floor she starts to shrug off my coat, but I quickly grab it and pull it back onto her shoulders.

"Don't, it looks better on you anyways." She drops her head down as she blushes, I can't believe I somehow got her to go from hating me to blushing at my compliments, all I know is that I want to compliment and make her blush for the rest of my life.

I step back from her as the elevator doors open, resting my hand on Y/N's back as I walk her in the direction of my room. The poor girl is still shivering, I hope she finds my clothes to be to her liking.

———————

Y/N's POV:

I'm still trying to wrap my head around how this man, this man who made me feel like absolute shit, now offers me his jacket and compliments that make my face blush a deep rose. I hope this is real, I don't think I can go back to hating him after all of this.

I'm dragged out of my thoughts by him gently pulling me into his room. Carefully slipping off the thick wet coat and hanging it up before turning back to me.

"Alright luv, I'll take you to my room and you can pick the clothes." His voice, God, his voice. I hate to admit it, but hearing his accent in-person just makes him even more attractive. All I can offer him is a gentle nod, his lips turning up into a sweet smile and he grabs my hand, leading me to his room. Opening the closet I see a wide array of clothes, ranging from incredibly posh to walk-out-of-bed to get a glass of milk clothes, I can't help but blush at the thought of him just lazily getting out of bed in the middle of the night for a midnight snack.

"What are you blushing at?" His tone is teasing as he gives me a humorous grin, his shoulder playfully bumping against my own. I can only shake my head in embarrassment as I glance away from him and back to the wardrobe.

"Oh, I can't pick... You choose." I suddenly state, backing up and softly pushing him forward. He seems generally surprised by what I say, but shakes it off as he now thinks about his new task. He rests against the wall and looks at me for a minute or so, just running his eyes across me in an oddly calculating way. He sharply turns away from me and starts rifling through his closet, searching for the perfect clothes, but suddenly stops and turns back to me.

"Don't you have an interview today?" My eyes widened in shock, how could I have forgotten. I glance towards the clock on his bedside table, my interview is in 30 minutes.

"It's in 30 minutes! What am I supposed to do?" I want to cry, this interview is very important publicity for my upcoming album. My eyes burn with tears of frustration, but I find myself distracted by the warm embrace of David, it's oddly comforting.

"Now don't you worry about the clothes, I'll pick something out while you go call your manager and get the address for your interview." He states, pulling back and looking at me reassuringly.

"What do you mean? My manager will never let me go on unless everything is perfect." I don't mean to argue, but I know my manager is a perfectionist, and will surely yell my ear off for putting myself in this position.

"Darling, either you go with what you have, or you miss the interview." I open my mouth in a weak attempt to argue, but I stop, knowing he's right. I nod my head and rush to the phone, hoping David chooses those clothes quickly.

I messily dial up my manager, and as soon as they pick up, I can sense their rush of concern.

"Honey where have you been? Your interview is in less than 30 minutes!" His usually calm tone is higher as he clearly has been worried about my whereabouts.

"I know I know, and I'm so sorry I didn't call sooner. I just... I was out, and people recognized m-" I get cut off before I can finish my sentence.

"They what! Did you take off your disguise?" He sounds so worried, I feel really guilty at making him feel this way, but I would rather I tell him than have him find out via the news.

"No, people saw through it!"

"Well, are you okay? I know how you get in crowds, did you make it out alright?" The worry and concern emanating through his voice lets me know he really wants to give me a hug, and he probably needs one too. I remember the fear and concern when he had to get me out of that London crowd, gosh he was more scared than I was.

"I'm surprisingly alright, but that's really only because I got saved." I say quietly, I leave out the fact that David Bowie saved me because I don't know how my manager will react. He was there with me when David said I was a whore to the press, so I'm not sure that he'll be as quick to forgive him as I was.

"Saved? By who?" His voice suddenly goes from concern to curiosity, oh I hope he doesn't scream when I bring David with me.

"I'll introduce you both at the interview... On that note, can you tell me the address, I promise I'll be there on time."

"Alright Y/N, just please stop giving me heart attacks." This last sentence is humorous, yet completely serious at the same time. I can hear the sincerity, and I hope that I never put him through this again.

"I promise nothing." I reply sassily, writing down the address he tells me. I turn and hurriedly walk back to David's room, accidentally running into him and falling back to the floor. I glance up in surprise as he does the same to me, I can't help but be taken back to the same scenario that happened earlier today.

"I think we've been here before darling." David laughs as I smile humorously at the situation. He offers his hand and pulls me up with a little too much strength, resulting in me falling against his chest. I can feel myself blush furiously as I go to push myself away from him, but find myself trapped by his arms encircling my waist.

He holds me there for a few moments before gently releasing me and motioning to the clothes on his bed. I don't even spare them a glance as I grab them and walk into the bathroom, changing swiftly before looking at myself in the mirror. I was in one of his blue dress shirts with some fancy brown shoes, and some straight legged ivory pants. Everything is big on me, and I feel overdressed, I usually don't care how I look, and dress in a t-shirt, jeans; but David really has me dressing up.

I hesitantly open the bathroom door with my eyes on the floor, hearing David hurriedly stand from his spot on the bed. We stand in silence for about a minute, and I go to shy away from him, but he steps forward and holds me in place.

"I look such a mess don't I? I-" I criticize my appearance, but he gently cuts me off.

"I like seeing you in my clothes." His voice is just above a whisper, and he sounds so attractively honest that I glance up from my shoes and to his face. I immediately notice that we are only a few inches away from one another, and I can't help but look away from him.

I turn back to say something when his hand suddenly reaches up to cup my face, instantly grabbing my attention. I look at him, noticing how adoringly he gazes into my eyes, and I can't help but close my eyes. His lips gently graze my own, he seems to hold back meeting me fully, assumingly afraid of how I react. To stop his assumptions I lean forward and meet his retreating form, himself immediately responding.

We pull back, and I shyly look to the side, seeing him smile in my peripheral vision as he leans down and softly kisses my cheek. My blush comes back with a vengeance, and I can hear him chuckle at the way I respond to him. We pull apart slightly, he offers me a warm smile before checking the time.

"Oh, we better get going, love. We have about 10 minutes to get there, and it's a 5 minute drive." I nod my head, allowing him to hold my hand as we walk out of his room.

———————

Arriving at the interview I wait in anxiousness as David walks around the car and opens the door for me, holding my hand delicately as we walk towards the building. We suddenly stop as he looks towards me and then himself, releasing my hand as he starts to take off his coat.

I go to object, but he pays it no mind, holding it out for me, and helping slip it on. I can't help but feel so in-love at the moment, and it's funny because he's the last person I thought would be treating me like this.

"You look good, I think I want to see you in my shirts more often." His voice is so charming and natural as the cheeky sentence slips out. He said it so normally, but he knows how it leaves me speechless, a smirk appearing on his handsome features as he leads me into the building.

[nari-nterest]

Juwon to Dongsik: I don't want you to like me.

Chansung to Manwol: I prefer you not liking me because I'm bothering you.

Guess who ends up falling deeply in love, they are willing to do ultimate sacrifice for the other 🤡

[eveulum]

I have a pitch for a spin off from The Batman movie. The Falcone crime family has fallen. This leaves a power vacuum in the Gotham organized crime world. Catwoman is determined not to let the remnants of her father’s organization tear the city apart so she starts showing up at incidents of mob violence. Every time she shows up she sees a mysterious purple figure on a motorcycle. Assuming the mysterious figure is part of the problem she starts tracking them. Of course when they meet, they fight. It’s eventually discovered that the mysterious figure is Huntress, Helena Bertinelli. She is the daughter of a former Gotham mob family who were all killed by rival mobsters. She vowed to bring down organized crime but has been working in Bludhaven for many years. She has come back to help save Gotham from the mob war. The two women realize they are on the same side and team up to end the violence and maybe fall in love.