#can't watch any of the interviews. can't watch his interviews

[feelbokkie]

L♡VE IN F♡CUS | Chapter 17

PAIRING: idol!Changbin x fem reader

WARNINGS: swearing, emotional breakdown

GENRE: smau, crack, angst, fluff

P♡V: 1st/2nd person (depending on how you view it)

SUMMARY: Amateur concert photographer Y/n has recently been promoted to junior music journalist. Her first assignment? An exposé on the popular Kpop boy group, Stray Kids. Spending an entire tour doing in depth interviews with eight men seems simple enough, but one member isn't exactly open to the idea. Will Y/n be able to break down the walls around his heart, or will her big break turn into a big disaster?

TAGLIST: open

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©feelbokkie (2024) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.

Exhausted and in pain, you drag your feet across the floor as you scan the hotel room number.

Against medical advice, you ended up on a flight to Chile. The soonest the airport would let you on a flight after getting your cast on was 48 hours. Even then, you had to take a longer trip with multiple stops rather than one to reduce the stress on your body. Luckily for you, the kids flew to Chile a few days before the second leg of the tour started because of projects they were working on. Meaning that you arrived before the first show.

Wonseok and Frankie weren't happy when you told them you were still planning on going. They spent the two days you were home resting trying to convince you to take more time off. Under normal circumstances, you'd listen to them. If your sister hadn't called you the day before asking for money to help your mother and the rest of the family, you would be at home resting until you could get back to work.

Yet, because life doesn't work out the way you want it to, here you are 38 hours later jet-lagged with a throbbing arm and head trying to find room 148.

You've spent the past few days replaying the events of the airport in your head. It's all could do. You've been too tired or in too much pain to work. It all happened before you even realized what was happening. One second you were taking pictures of the kids while they were walking through the airport, the next you were on the ground with a searing pain coursing through your arm. You were pulled up before you could process the sudden crowd of people and all of the pushing and shoving and shouting from fans and other media professionals. You were pulled up from the ground before you could hurt more. Everything is such a blur, that you can't even remember who helped you.

"Noona?" A familiar voice rings through the hallway.

You set your rolling bag upright in the middle of the hallway as you lock eyes with Changbin. You adjust your backpack over your good arm and watch as Changbin types something into his phone and closes the door to his hotel room. After a moment, he looks up and stares at you, his brows drawing closer in concern.

"What are you doing here?" His words come out slowly, chosen with care and caution.

"Tour officially starts tomorrow, where else would I be?"It came out a bit more serious than you intended it to be.

“Back in Seoul,” Changbin scoffs, his eyes widen in disbelief. His phone chimes a few times before he types something again and then slides it into his pocket. “Honestly noona, you make Seungmin look like a slacker.”

“Well, some of us can’t afford to take time off.”

“You got hurt while working. You’d be taking time to heal, not going on vacation.” The phone in his pocket continues to chime, but with his eyes trained on you he ignores it.

You rubbed your eyes aggressively as if that might clear the heaviness from them. You’re too tired to argue with him and yet you still have an overwhelming urge to justify your actions. To validate them, mostly for Changbin to understand but also for a small part of you deep down that’s trying to understand exactly why you’re there now. “Can we do this later? I’m tired and I don’t feel good,”

“You’d be less tired and feel a lot better in your own bed,” Changbin says gently.

“Don’t you think I know that?” You snap. You’re not sure why, maybe it’s the tone in his voice. How his words come off a little condescending. Or maybe you’re so exhausted and used to how the two of you used to be on each other’s bad side, but something about what he said sets you off.

“Look, I don’t want to be here either. I just got done with 3 flights totaling 37 hours—not including layovers. My body hurts from sitting in stiff seats that I couldn’t recline because I didn’t want to be rude even though one flight had a screaming baby and another one had a kid kicking my seat for most of it. And my arm was throbbing so much that I thought it was going to explode mid-flight." You speak quietly, unable, it seems, to put any more effort into being louder. Changbin maintains gentle eye contact while waiting patiently through silence, his features softening from his usual sharp lines as he watches you carefully.

"I wish I could stay home, resting in my bed so I can heal properly. But I can't afford to do that because my boss depends on me. And on top of that, my family--despite me being the youngest with parents and siblings who are very much capable--rely on me. And the only time they remember I exist is when they need or want something, despite being the least favorite." A flicker of recognition crosses Changbin's eyes as you speak. You're oversharing more than you intend. With your level of exhaustion, you're unable to properly filter your words and prevent further word vomit from spewing out of your mouth.

As you speak the words that have been dwelling inside you for months--years even--they linger in the air, somehow heavier than they were before as they suck the oxygen out of the room and weigh down on you. Thick and heavy, your thoughts force you back into your own head, almost as if building a wall between you and Changbin. You don't notice, how much closer Changbin is than he was before. He didn't even notice at first how he seemed to inch closer to you the more you talked. Or how much his hand twitches while resting at his side, unsure of its own actions.

You rub your eyes aggressively once more--so hard you see little stars. You don't register how wet your hand is as you pull your hand away. You do, however, feel a dry lump in your throat as you try to breathe. Finally feeling pin pricks on the back of your eyes, your good arm covers your eyes as you try to choke back the sob threatening to escape your lips. You try to take one deep breath to calm yourself down to no avail. Unable to keep it together any longer, a choked cry escapes you. And then another, and another until you're full-on sobbing.

"I-I'm just so fucking tired," You gasp between sobs, barely able to catch the breath needed for the next.

Changbin's hands hover uncertainly before they gently graze your good arm, softly urging you to put it down. When you refuse, protecting whatever shred of dignity you have left, he places a firm grip on your wrist and slowly pulls your arm down. You're forced to make direct eye contact with Changbin, who is now staring at you with such tenderness that it hurts. His gaze studies you carefully, almost like he's trying to read you before his arms wrap around you.

Being mindful of your broken arm, his grip around you is firm. The scent of his cologne fills your nose, giving you a warm sense of comfort as your face is pressed against his chest. You can't help but cry harder as he murmurs soft words of comfort into your ear while his hands move in small, unconscious gestures of comfort on your back and head.

"It's okay, noona," He mumbles quietly.

"Bin, I told you to stop talking to her," Chan's panicked voice comes up behind you.

"I did," Changbin breathes, "This is about something else, hyung."

You grip Changbin's shirt and bury your face deeper into his chest. It's bad enough he has to see you like this, you're not going to let anyone else.

"You're fine, noona," He whispers to you. "She just needs some rest. She's had a long day."

"Let's get her to her room," Chan says quickly. Changbin's grip around you tightens again as Chan approaches the two of you.

"I got her, hyung. Can you just open her door? Her key is on the floor."

Chan presses his lips together before grabbing your room key from the floor. A weight is physically lifted from your shoulder as Chan grabs your backpack and slings it over his shoulder. He stumbles for a moment, caught off guard by how heavy your backpack is, before grabbing your carry suitcase and walking down the hall to find your room.

Changbin loosens his grip on you, allowing some air to go to your lungs. The atmosphere around you feels a bit lighter, having been absorbed by Changbin and his hug it appears. The heavy words slowly but surely dissipate from the air the more you stand there, listening to Changbin's strong, steady heartbeat. He pulls your head off his chest and watches you for a moment. His hand slides forward from the back of your head, resting on your cheek for a moment before the pad of his thumb breaks the flow of now-silent tears falling from your eyes.

"I got you, Y/n,"

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

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@binchive

[cr4yolaas]

WHIPLASH — THAT'S THE INDUSTRY, BABY!

she knows what the journalism industry entails — false rules, odd etiquette, perfect structures and guidelines enforced by those at the top rung of the ladder. she also knows that if she's going to get what she wants, she needs to abide by all of it. even if it means throwing herself away.

001. armageddon / masterlist / 003. look back

The condensation collecting on her glass creates a little ring on the wooden table, an indication of how long she's spent waiting and her dissipating patience. Her shirt — the one Nobara picked out for her a year ago, in the midst of a Black Friday sale — pricks at her skin, the fabric much too irritating for everyday wear even despite its cutesy style, and even with the indecency and the scandals it would spark, she wants nothing more than to rip it off right there and then, forgoing the time it took for her to steam and iron it alongside her dress pants.

She glances at the clock. 9:28.

Almost thirty minutes late.

Just as she all-but-gracefully swings her leg around the ledge of her chair in preparation to leave, the door creaks open and the little bell above it jingles a cheery tune. A tinge of heat rushes to her face when she sees his attire — sweatpants that practically engulf him and a Sweat Oversized Pullover Hoodie from Uniqlo, of all places (she only remembers this from her last article, in which the basketball player she interviewed went on and on about his extensive, multi-colored collection of Uniqlo basics, which he wore to every meeting). Far more casual than her.

But that detail is immediately cast aside when she takes a glance at the jewelry donning his hand and the baseball cap he dons. It's familiar. Too familiar.

When it clicks, he smiles at her — no, he smirks. As if he'd won some internal battle that she wasn't informed of.

"You didn't realize? You talk a lot of shit for—"

"Please don't." Her head falls into the valley she's created between her hands, even more heat rising to the surface of her skin. He's holding it above her head, his words clearly mocking her but sliding into one ear and falling out of the other. He doesn't admit that he'd looked up her profile when she first reached out, her picture pristine and on display on the first page of section editors for SM News. She can't quite hear him over the loud pounding in her head. "That was one time. I don't do that frequently— or at all, really."

He makes a noise that falls between a laugh and a scoff. "Sure didn't seem like it."

If not for the circumstances, she would've reached over and gouged his eyes out.

She slides her hands down her face, a heavy breath escaping her lips. She can't quite afford to slip up this early, not with how important this exclusive is for her company. Something about a competition with the two other largest publishers in Tokyo, all of which are rushing to get their grimy hands on the city's most prized baseball team and their secrets. So, with the last bit of composure she can muster, she offers a deal — in exchange for the exclusive, she'll promise to give him a good rep in the industry and keep anything important away from her competing journalists, the ones who would fight tooth and nail for even a smidge of controversy to stir up anything in the (only recently) all-too-peaceful sports scene.

He looks at her as if to question her sanity, his eyes boring into hers.

They both know it's beyond unequal. That any normal, sane person would decline such a ridiculous offer. But, unfortunately for both of them, they have things to protect — and neither can risk exposure.

He grits his teeth before agreeing with a rushed, "Sure." Her coffee is far too watered down now, and as soon as the word slips from his mouth, his own drink arrives at the pick-up counter. She tries not to watch as he leaves to get it, but it's hard, especially when there's so much — too much — to lose here.

She wants to laugh. All because of one night, and a supposedly random man who offered an ear.

When he returns, the air clears ever so slightly, as if reaching a telepathic agreement to brush aside whatever history, however minimal, they shared prior to this moment, despite how significantly it could impact both of their careers. He slides her his phone all too trustingly, and on screen is everything she needs — schedules, details, dates. Immediately, she gets to work, the cover of her MacBook (company provided, thankfully) almost flying open and her notepad already resting to her right. He pretends not to notice the Asahi Dry design on her pen, the details akin to something randomly handed out at a festival or convention. On the other hand, he does notice how crazed and frantic she looks, and makes a point to comment on it.

"Just so you know, you look insane," he mutters while leaning back in his seat, a juxtaposition to her hunched posture as she jots something down.

She scoffs under her breath, her hand still writing rapidly while the other hovers over the mousepad. "How else do you think I got here?"

He's pushed into silence with that, leaving him to observe more than he should. He catches on quickly to how often she brushes stray hands hair away from her face, sometimes snappily, and other times carefully. The collar of her shirt isn't centered, the result of her feverish efforts. Her foot keeps tapping against the bottom ring of her tall chair. Too much to notice. He tries not to, but it proves difficult when all he can do is quietly watch.

It takes ten minutes before she straightens up, excitedly packing her bag before explaining that she'll message him regarding their next interview and the information she'll need, a perfect script she'd memorized within her first year of writing. On the contrary, he's sluggish, almost as if he doesn't want to leave the comfort of the seat. Megumi glances at their drinks — hers isn't even halfway finished, and the ring at the bottom of her glass is more of a puddle now, whereas his is a sip away from meeting the trash can. "I'll pay," he mutters while just barely noticing that she got his order down to a tee prior to even meeting him. He can't mention it before she retorts almost instantly, her tongue laced with sass and minimal patience.

"Did you think you weren't paying at the start?" She's smiling at him.

"Dunno."

"Yikes," she laughs, and it's not forced or professional or scripted or any of the sort. He feigns annoyance at the noise.

The door jingles with the same joyous melody from before when they exit together, his hand holding the door open for her albeit begrudgingly. Something that sounds like a goodbye slips from her lips, and before they split paths, she waves (customarily). He ignores it for a moment — it irks him, her behavior and how desperate she is for this exclusive. But beneath the ire bubbling up, there's a hint of guilt, pushing him to wave back.

By the time he turns around, she's already gone.

★ nobara is the source of like 40% of yn's wardrobe

★ sometimes she'll come home with three bags of clothes and ask yn to try them all on and keep the ones she likes

★ its the golf course tips from old men that funds this behavior

★ the asahi dry pen is a real thing bc i have one that i got from the oc japan fair LOL. it's actually pretty cute and writes well

★ yn almost cried tears of joy when they gave her a new macbook once she got promoted to section editor ... hers was falling apart and had the nasty screen protector marks from when she peeled it off

★ megs was in a bad mood the rest of the day. like a little ipad kid throwing a silent tantrum

★ also sorry not sorry i’m projecting my social ineptitude onto yuuji for the rest of this fic </3

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divider creds @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[kpop---scenarios]

Always & Forever

Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x Reader

Warning: Angst, Hurt feelings, Smut (unprotected, oral f. receiving) 18+ ONLY. MDNI

Summary: You broke up with Hongjoong, thinking it was the best thing to do. But it wasn't and only left you both broken.

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: Merry Christmas, @potatomountain !! Here is your secret santa gift! I hope you enjoy! I promise it's not all sad! ♡

Networks: @ksmutsociety @mirohs-aurora-society

“Is he going? For sure?” You turn to ask your friend, Soomi, who stood beside you smoothing out your dress. Even though you were getting ready, you still weren't sure if you were even going to attend this wedding. You wanted to go, you wanted to support two of your friends and their decision to get married, but if Hongjoong was going to be there, you didn't know if you were going to be able to be in the same room as him.

It had only been a couple months since you ended things with him, and to say you regret your decision everyday was an understatement. You missed him, his touch, his laugh, even just the presence of him that made you feel so safe and loved. Leaving him was the hardest thing you had ever done but you did it for him. Hongjoong's career with his group was taking off, the group was gaining momentum, media exposure and he was spending a lot of his time in the studio, filming music videos, doing interviews and his time for you continued to dwindle. You could see how much it was bothering him to not see you as much and to be honest, you didn't want to start to resent him for his lack of time and attention. You knew he loved you, and you loved him but to just love someone from afar wasn't enough. You knew that he wouldn't be the one that would end things with you. He would continue to kill himself trying to do everything for his group and still try to make time for you.

So you did it for him.

You went about it in the wrong way, instead of sitting down to talk to him, one night when he came home late, you decided to pick a fight about his lack of care and attention, knowing this would likely be the last time you would be around him. And it fucking hurt.

“What do you mean you're done?” He asks, setting his keys down on the table. You sat there with your arms crossed, trying to keep your face neutral.

“I can't do this anymore. You're never around. I don't get to see you, I barely talk to you anymore. I feel like I'm single, I might as well actually be single.” You yell.

You watch as his shoulders slouch, he looks at the ground, sniffling.

“Baby.” Hongjoong begins. “I'm doing this for us… for our future. Just… just give me some time and I promise I'll have some time off.” He says.

“I don't have any more time to give.” You murmur. “It's been long enough. I'm fucking lonely.” You whisper.

“Please.” He begs.

You needed to sell it. You needed him to stop. You needed to get able to go and make sure he wasn't going to try and stop you.

“Can we talk it out? Please.” He asks.

“Hongjoong, stop.” You sigh.

“Y/N, baby, please don't do this to me. Please don't leave me.” He cries, walking towards you.

“I don't love you anymore, Hongjoong.” You scream, tears spilling down your cheeks. He stops in his tracks. His eyes are wide, his mouth hanging open slightly. He stumbles back as he stares at you. Your hand flies over your mouth.

“I-” You pause. “I'm sorry.” You whisper, pushing your chair back. You run outside of the apartment, slamming the front door behind you. Leaving the man you loved more than anything, shattered, broken and alone.

You hadn't seen him since that night, and the thought of seeing him in the flesh was a terrifying thought.

“Yeah, he is.” Soomi tells you.

You take a deep breath as you finish getting ready. You were going to go. There's always a chance of seeing him while you're out, you might as well do it in a setting where you can semi control the interactions. You were sure you'd be able to avoid him, or any general area that he was in. You were strong.

“Are you still coming?” She asks.

You nod your head. Your throat was dry, you didn't think you could even whisper a yes in the moment. Nerves were taking over your body as you put the finishing touches on your favorite wedding outfit, your hair done the exact way you liked it.

You sighed loudly as you stared at yourself in the mirror, wondering if Hongjoong was thinking about you right now like you were about him. You hoped he was, even if he was thinking about how much he hated you.

“Ready?” Soomi asks, nudging you with her shoulder, bringing you out of your thoughts. You smiled at her, again nodding yes as you followed her out the front door. The two of you head down to the front entrance of the complex, to the waiting cab sitting out front.

The entire drive to the venue you felt like you couldn't breathe. Earlier you were a little excited at the thought of possibly seeing him but now you weren't so sure about it. What if he yelled at you in front of everyone? What if he cursed you out? What if he took one look at you and turned around and left? There were a million scenarios that ran through your head on the 45 minute drive. You felt like you were going to pass out.

It took Soomi a few minutes to break you out of your silent panic once you arrived outside the venue. She squeezes your hand in support as the two of you walk into the beautiful and large chapel. Hongjoong is suddenly erased from your mind for a few moments as you take in the beautifully decorated venue. You smile and wave at other friends who were already seated for the ceremony. You looked around and didn't see Hongjoong. You felt your body relax, as you chatted with friends, while you all waited for the music to start.

Once it did and there was still no sign of Hongjoong you were able to relax even more. He slipped from your mind once again as the groomsmen, the groom, flower girl and bridesmaids began walking down the aisle. You all smiled and stood up as the music changed and your gorgeous friend walked down the red carpeted aisle with her father. She looked so beautiful and so happy, walking down to her future husband who stood there in awe of her. And just like that, your mind flashes back to Hongjoong and the memories of him telling you that he was going to marry you and give you everything you'd ever need and or want.

“I only want you.” You giggled.

How that was still so fucking true. It was him. It always was him, and it always would be. And if it was meant to be, the two of you would be able to find your ways back to each other.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife!” The priest smiles. “You may kiss your bride!”

The church erupts with cheers and clapping as they share their first kiss as husband and wife, walking down the aisle, hand in hand, grinning from ear to ear.

“Let's go get a drink.” You whisper to yourself friends, all of you giggling as the crowd leaves the ceremony, heading to the reception across the street. The first thing you do is head to the bar, ordering drinks for your table. You turn around, leaning against the bar, watching everyone mingle, seeing the bride and groom happily sit with each other, talking to guests. You were so happy you decided to come along, as it turned out there was nothing for you to even worry about.

Until there was.

You turned around to grab the drinks and head back to your table, and while on your way, you almost dropped all 5 drinks in your hands. Hongjoong walks into the bar. He was wearing an all black suit, his shirt unbuttoned a little. His hair was now black, slicked back and he looked so fucking good.

The two of you lock eyes, your heart begins to race. Did you smile at him? Talk to him? Nod? Do nothing? You weren't prepared for this, in all your panicking you never figured out what you would do if you actually saw him. Before you could decide on what to do, he breaks eye contact, dropping his head and moves through the crowd of people. You set the drinks down, your heart felt like it was going to fall out of your chest. He looked so fucking good, but broken, and you were the one to blame.

You had never prepared yourself for what it would feel like to see him. You hadn't realized it would hurt this much but you supposed you deserved that feeling.

“You okay?” Your friend asks, seeing your smile now gone.

“I saw Hongjoong.” You sigh.

“And?” One asks.

“He stared at me, dropped his head and walked away.” You murmur, taking a sip of your drink.

“Just try to relax.” Soomi smiles. “Everything always works out the way it's supposed to.” She says.

“Yeah.” You breathe. “I guess.”

It didn't help. You wanted him back, but was it too late? Would he ever take you back? You weren't sure but something inside you kept telling you to try. You looked around the bar for him, and once your eyes landed on him, it was hard to look away. You continued to steal glances of him for the next hour, taking in his smile that you've missed so much. You could hear his laugh despite all the noise in the bar. You could smell him even though he kept his distance from you. You kept drinking, downing more drinks than you should have, taking a couple shots. Your inhibition was lowered, you were prone to making poor decisions when you were drinking, and trying to talk to him while intoxicated absolutely fell under that category.

“I'm doing it!” You announce, standing up, slamming your hands down on the table. “I'm going to win him back!”

“You don't think you should wait? Until you're sober?” Soomi asks.

“Sober, shmober.” You murmur. “I have to talk to him. I can't just keep staring at him from afar.”

You walked away from the realization of what you were going to do sobered you up a little. You found him with ease, just as he was setting his drink down and walking towards the bathrooms. You followed behind him, calling out for him. Either he didn't hear you, or he was ignoring you. You were sure he was ignoring you.

He walked into the men's room, and without any hesitation, you walked in right after him.

“Kim Hongjoong.” You yell, his back was towards you. He lets out a deep breath, turning around to face you.

“What do you want, y/n?” He asks.

“I…” You pause. “I just… I miss you.” You whisper.

He laughs. A humorless laugh. “You miss me? You left me, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember very vividly.” You say.

“You don't love me anymore. Remember?” He says.

“That's not true.”

“It's not true, huh.” He chuckles. “So if it's not true then why did you say it? Why did you leave me?”

“Because.” You pause, looking him in the eyes.

“Because what? You were lonely? I was focusing on my career too much? What?” He asks.

“Because I knew you wouldn't leave me. And I knew if we continued down the path we were going, you'd kill yourself trying to make me a priority along with your work.” You whisper.

He stands there, staring at you, his eyes wide. “Why wouldn't you talk to me?” He asks.

“What good would that have done?” You respond. “There was no other way around it. The group was taking off, you were getting busier and busier, what limited time you had was going to become non existent. Tell me, did you feel guilty being away from me for so long and for so often?” You ask.

“All the time.” He murmured.

“Exactly. But these last couple months…” you pause, the tears beginning to come. Your lip trembles. “Have been the worst of my life. I fucking miss you. I miss even just talking on the phone with you. Facetiming, the random sporadic nights we get together. I'd trade everything I have just to have those with you again. I don't care if I have to travel halfway across the world to see you, I'll do it. I just want you.” You whisper.

You weren't sure what you were wanting from him at this moment, but something would have been nice. Instead he stood there, staring at you, not saying a word.

You were beginning to get nervous. Maybe he moved on? Maybe he didn't want you anymore?

“Please. Hongjoong, please say something.” You whisper.

“I -” he pauses. “I can't do this right now. I have to go.” He says. He walks towards you, passing you, whispering an apology. He leaves you standing alone in the men's bathroom, wondering if telling him any of that was a mistake? You drag your feet as you make your way back to your table. You were no longer in the mood to celebrate.

“What happened?” Your friends ask as you grab your purse.

“I don't really want to talk about it.” You say, forcing a smile. “I'm gonna go.” You whisper, trying to keep the tears inside. You didn't want to cry in a crowded bar.

So you swallowed your tears, along with the lump in your throat as you made your way outside, the fresh air hitting you like a ton of bricks. You managed to find a cab through the tears in your eyes and with a shaky voice, told him where you needed to go. You leaned against the door, looking out the window as the rain started to pour. You watched it continuously run down the window as Hongjoong's words played in your head over and over again.

“I can't do this right now. I have to go.”

“I can't do this.”

Did you hope that he told you he missed you and desperately wanted you back? Absolutely. Were you expecting it? No, you weren't but you were hoping that he would have at least stayed and talked things out with you.

When you finally pulled up to your apartment, you paid the cab driver, and made your way upstairs. The second you opened your front door and stepped inside, the silence consumed you. It was deafening.

You dropped down to your knees, finally letting out the cries you had held in for over an hour. Curling up into a ball on the floor of your kitchen, sobbing, pleading to whoever that was listening that you didn't ruin any chances you may have had in getting him back.

You weren't sure how long you laid there, but it was long enough for there to be a puddle of tears left on the floor where you were. After you picked yourself up off the floor and shook it off. You cleaned up the puddle, and headed for the shower where you tried to wash off the feeling of regret. But it wouldn't wash off. No matter how much you scrubbed yourself, no matter how much soap you used, you couldn't get rid of that horrible feeling.

You stepped out of the shower, wrapping yourself in a towel. You wanted to crawl into bed, not even going to bother to get yourself dressed and you were going too but the moment you pulled back your blanket, there was a rapid knocking at your front door. You tightened up your towel, uncaring of who was on the other side of the door. You pulled it open, your eyes still red and puffy from crying.

“Yes?” You say as the door opens, but your eyes go wide. “Hongjoong.” You whisper.

“You know, y/n, you've got a lot of nerve.” He sighs. “Coming to me, out of nowhere, telling me you miss me and love me and that you left me for me.”

“I know.” You whisper.

“I want to hate you. I've wanted nothing more than to despise you for shattering my heart like you did. I've tried to hate you.” He says.

You nod your head. You deserved his hate.

“But I can't. Because I'm still so fucking in love with you.” He says. “It never fucking wavered even when you told me you didn't love me anymore. I still loved you with everything I had. I still do.”

The tears start again, rolling down your cheeks. Your entire body trembling as the man you loved so much stood before you, confessing how he was still in love with you.

“And I don't think I'll ever stop.” He says, stepping inside your apartment. You step back, he closes the door behind him. Without a second thought, his hand is on your cheek, and his lips are pressed against yours.

You wrap your arms around his neck, his arms wrapping around your body, holding you tightly. You missed the feeling of his hands all over your body. Hongjoong deepens the kiss, sliding his tongue into your mouth. You grasp at his shirt, trying to pull it off of him. You needed to feel him, skin to skin. He chuckles, breaking the kiss. He grabs your hand, pulling you towards the bedroom he has spent so many nights in before. You sit down on the bed, your towel still on but loose. He stands in front of you, unbuttoning the dress shirt he was still wearing. You groan at the sight of him as he drops his shirt down onto the floor.

“I'm so sorry.” You whisper as he crawls onto the bed, hovering over you.

“Shh, baby.” He smiles, peppering kisses across your face, down your neck, onto your chest. He opens up your towel, running his hands over your body. “I've missed you so fucking much.” He whispers, kissing between your chest, down to your stomach.

“Please, Hongjoong.” You whimper.

“What do you want from me, baby?” He asks.

“You. I want you inside me.” You breathe.

Hongjoong smiles, standing back up as he unbuttons his pants, letting them pool around his ankles. He steps out of them, pulling down his boxers, letting his cock spring free. You bite your lip,

“Patience, baby.” He whispers, pulling you to the edge of the bed, settling in between your legs on the floor. He spreads your legs, licking his lips before he licks a long strip up your already soaked cunt. He moves his tongue between your lips, flicking your clit with a sense of desperation. You moan loudly as you try to buck your hips. He pushes you back down, holding you down as he sucks on your clit, swirling his tongue around, making you grasp the bed sheets. It felt so fucking good, it had been so long, you felt like your whole body was about to explode.

“Hongjoong..” you pant. “I'm gonna cum.” You gasp.

You can feel him smile between your legs as he moves his tongue faster, pushing a few fingers inside of you.

“Fuck.” You gasp, clenching yourself around his fingers. He quickly thrusts them in and out of you, moving his tongue faster and faster, pushing you over the edge within seconds. Your orgasm explodes through your body, causing you to pant loudly. Hongjoong wastes no time, pulling his fingers out of you, using your juices to coat his cock.

“Get on your hands and knees. ” He says, stroking his cock. He crawls onto the bed behind you, landing a hard smack on your ass, making you whimper.

He lines himself up with your entrance pushing himself inside of you before gripping onto your hips. You roll your eyes back as he pushes himself as far as he can inside you, digging his fingertips into your hips. You gasp loudly as your cunt stretches from his cock, your arms giving out on you as you lay your face on the bed with your ass in the air.

“That's right, baby.” He groans, slowly pulling his cock out of you before slamming back inside, making you yelp.

“Faster, please. Fuck me harder.” You gasp, needing him to wreck you. His grip on you tightens as he thrusts faster and harder, ramming his cock into you over and over. He leans over you slightly, moving his hand to your head, pushing your face into the mattress.

“Fuck! Right there.” You cry out, gripping the bed sheets even harder than before. You squeeze your eyes shut while he pounds into you.

“I've fucking missed you.” He pants. You move your hand between your legs, rubbing your clit as Hongjoong fucks you mercilessly.

You can't speak, only moan as you rub your clit faster, matching the pace of his thrusts. Your heart was beating rapidly as your second orgasm builds, only taking seconds to hit and flow through your body, making you jolt.

“I'm so fucking close.” Hongjoong grunts. He holds onto you tightly as he fucks you faster, moaning loudly as his orgasm finally hits. His thrusts slow down as he releases his load deep inside you, coating your walls with his cum.

“Fuck.” He breathes, pulling out of you. You both collapse onto the bed, the smell of sweat and sex filling your room.

Your head rests on his chest, no words are spoken while the two of you catch your breath, soaking in the presence of each other once again.

“I really missed you.” You whisper.

“I'm sorry I made you feel like you needed to end things for me to be happy.” He says, his finger trailing over your back.

“I'm sorry I did that too. I thought I was doing the right thing at the time.” You reply.

“Please don't ever do that again.” He says. “Talk to me if you have concerns.”

“I will. I don't want to be apart from you again. We're in this together.” You smile.

“Forever.”

“Forever and Always.”

[hailturinturambar]

Thoughts on J.D and Patrick's interview (PART II)

The year can't end without one more analysis! By the way, I want to do more analysis of the show, but I haven't decided yet, so suggestions are always welcome! This interview is from August, but that's okay. After all, there are so many interviews that I'm almost lost!

Come on, one of the best things about the show, at least to me, is always the prologue. The prologue to the first season has a very well-structured foundation of the Elder Days and the beginning of Arda.

Morgoth's introduction as the First Enemy was brief but still impactful. However, nothing could have prepared me for the breathtaking prologue to season two.

We were all curious about the beginning of Sauron's journey. But the prologue was better than I could have hoped for.

I'm glad they changed it for season 2, I don't think it would have worked very well in season 1. Would they have introduced Sauron mid-season or would the scenes have been cut?

The second season is darker, so I think the dark prologue was ideal. We know a lot about Sauron's past in the books, but not in the adaptations. In the movies, for example, he's just Sauron, the Dark Lord, there's nothing more about him than that.

Well, I couldn't agree more. In episode eight of season one, just like Galadriel, we know that Sauron is the Enemy and that's it. But what do we know about Sauron before his encounter with Galadriel and his path of evil?

I really like that in TROP Sauron is not romanticized, but we are introduced to his past, to the events that shaped him and led him to do everything he did. Only when we know someone's past are we able to understand their actions.

I started rewatching TROP on December 23rd and I'm already at the end of the second season, and they're right. When we watch the first season again, after the prologue of the second season, everything seems different. No scene seems simple or out of place, no word seems meaningless.

We look at scenes in Númenor, for example, and we're like, "Yeah, that makes sense! That's why Halbrand/Sauron behaved like that." It's really interesting. Because I never thought the show would go that way in 2022.

We started and ended the first season with the question, "Who is Sauron?" In the second season, we finally know. Because we get to follow Sauron after Morgoth's defeat and how he tried to rise again. We see how he was betrayed by Adar and spent centuries recovering. And most importantly, we find out how Halbrand ended up on the cursed raft.

Tolkien left some great passages open, didn't he? These long passages of time without information are great for piquing our curiosity. And I don't know if Tolkien thought about them, after all, he had a very long story with many characters, maybe he left that blank period aside.

And I loved how this was worked into the series. Because in the books after Morgoth's defeat and Sauron's refusal to return to Valinor, we don't have much information. I always wondered how he ended up in Eregion or when this idea came to his mind.

I try my best to pay attention to the details in the show, there is always hidden information. And it is extremely satisfying to watch the passage of time in Sauron's transformation. We know from the books that Sauron can return, but we don't know how that process works.

So it's fascinating to watch time pass, the climate change, but Sauron's form also change. From a tangle of worms emerging from a pool of blood, to Sauron's mortal form as Halbrand.

I humbly believe that Sauron does feel pain. When Morgoth fought Fingolfin, Morgoth felt pain and his pain reverberated throughout Middle-earth. Morgoth felt pain because he had been in one form for too long, just as Sauron did. Sauron spent too much time assuming many forms, so why wouldn't he feel pain if a Valar was able to feel it?

In my opinion, the key point in any show or book is the "what if?" What if Sauron felt pain? What if Sauron is capable of having feelings? The what if is the big cherry on the cake that keeps our curiosity and makes us spend hours theorizing about a character.

I think Sauron is capable of feeling everything, whether it be emotions or pain. However, I believe that this feeling is not as we imagine it. It is, as has been said, an ambiguous feeling. We will never be able to understand the extent of Sauron's honesty about what he is demonstrating or pretending to feel.

Now that's a point that keeps me awake! In case you don't remember, I commented on my opinion about the sea monster in my analysis of Sauron and Galadriel.

The sea monster and Sauron is a never-ending question. Because as Payne said, Sauron may have seized the opportunity, or it escaped his reach. Could the Valar be trying to destroy Sauron? Maybe, it would make a lot of sense.

I'll go a little further. The Valar may have sent the monster to destroy Sauron before he could do any more damage. But Sauron is a dark master and knows all beasts, so he may have influenced the monster so that he wouldn't be killed in the shipwreck. So why would the monster attack the raft?

A second attempt by the Valar? Maybe. But I like to play with the idea that Sauron summoned the monster when he recognized Galadriel. That way the humans were eliminated and he had his path clear for deception. I guess we'll never know!

The problem of writing stories as tales of legends is that we miss a lot of things. I say this from experience. Because in my book that I wrote this year, the prologue is a story about more than 200 years about the old times in the history before the first chapter. And a lot of things happened in these 200 years of history. So, if I were to rewrite each passage, a lot of new information would emerge.

This is the big difference between the show and the movies. In the trilogy (or the Hobbit trilogy) the Third Age material is all written, it just needs to be adapted. But in the First and Second Ages, a lot of things are reported, but not detailed.

Giving the Ring to Círdan could involve infinite possibilities, but we don't know them. Personally, I loved the ring story created for the show. All the depth given to the scene and the giving of the rings was a spectacle.

Yes, all adaptations have their flaws and successes. But overall, I am extremely pleased with the adaptation of TROP and the changes or additions made by those involved. An adaptation is never exactly the same as the book, we know that. But what I love about TROP is that we are presented with scenes that make us think, "Oh yeah, that's something Tolkien would have written!"

[nalyra-dreaming]

Hello!

This is a really pedantic question and I apologize if you’ve been asked this before, but what is the timeline of the first episode flashbacks?

I see people saying sometimes that Lestat courted Louis for months before their first “date” but in the scene where Louis and his family are at breakfast Grace says “a month before my wedding…” and then, after Paul’s funeral and Louis gets drunk and goes to the Fair Play, Miss Carol says Lily died “two weeks ago”. Also, Louis says that the sunrise he and Paul watched is the last he ever saw which means Paul’s death, his funeral, and Louis’ turning all take place on the same day which was the day after Grace’s wedding. So, based on that, the entire flashbacks of the first episode only take place over a month and, if we assume Lestat killed Lily soon after that night they were together then Louis and Lestat only “courted” for about two weeks and then it was another two weeks between their night together and Grace’s wedding. Unless I’m just missing something really obvious…?

Again, I know this is kind of a silly question, but the timeline of the season 1 flashbacks can be a little hard to keep track of sometimes.

Hey!

So.... first of all: you need to let go of any -precise- dates for the show.

They're all off. The times, too.

I'm not kidding. Louis is remembering things he mixes up with other events, breakfasts that happened at different times, and so on.

Here is a rough timeline of the show:

And here is a post detailing that the dates being "off" is deliberate:

Memory... is a monster.

And it is fallible.

And that is threaded through all of the episodes, all of the tale.

Louis misremembers. He thinks he knows what train Claudia took, but she actually couldn't have. He thinks he knows what breakfast they talked about the brooms and the witches and Grace's wedding, but that could not have been before he met Lestat. He thinks he went for a walk in Ponchatoula after the hotel, but that is also highly unlikely.

I linked it in the hotel post, but there is an interview, where Jacob says this:

"Louis believes that a lot of this is the truth. There are other things that he knows deep down are not true. He has to tell himself a version of it in order to cope.”

This is not supposed to be a big discussion about truth or not :), but it is necessary to consider this angle when you want to fit hard truths (the dates) to the narrative.

Because you can't. The tale Louis narrates does not fit. Not quite.

Part of it is the fact that memory is fallible - and the other is that we know now that his memory has been tinkered with by Armand, as Assad called it. And so the second interview could not have been the truth either, just as the first one wasn't.

I am not sure if we will ever get "the truth™". The absolute dates. You will have to "choose to believe it", as Daniel calls it in the show, within the tale :)))

[waitmyturtles]

Forgive me for this ramble, but If I could put my TMZ hat on for a second ... while we have no idea what the issue is/was between Joong and Est, I wonder if class disparity might play a part? I've noticed that quite a few actors in the Thai BL space, especially at GMMTV, seem to come from wealthy backgrounds. Just off the top of my head at GMM there is Off, Tay, Win, Bright, Pond, Phuwin, Dunk, and Boun. While not at gmm I can think of Mile, Billkin, Mew, Tul, Ta, Nut ...etc. You can even see it in the kpop industry with Minnie, Ten, and Nichkhun.

Now while I haven't read anything indicating Est's, or for that matter Daou and Offroad's wealth status, it does make me wonder. Perhaps @respectthepetty might have more insight. However, from what I have read about Joong, his bio-father died when he was young, his mother remarried a Turkish man, and they moved to Turkey where his half-siblings were born and then his step-father died. Joong finally worked to make enough money to buy a house and moved his family into the house in Thailand. I am not sure if his mother works, but if she doesn't then he would be the sole breadwinner of the family.

Now while being wealthy doesn't make one a bad person, there might be some ignorant mindsets, hyper-consumerism, image maintenance, and thoughtlessness that could could clash with people that don't have the financial freedom or free-time to spend as they like because they have people dependent on them.

Considering Joong is really big on his family, and he most likely had to grow up faster than others due to the circumstances of his life, I wonder if he is just has a lot more to consider in his life, while the others are able to just be young?

I really can't tell if he is the messy kind of person that constantly posts cryptic things for attention but never wants to talk about it (or in this case cant because he is a celeb), or if he is actually just being a little too real for a celeb, while the others are following their PR to a "T."

If wealth disparity is playing a part, this could compound the Dunk issue aside him being caught between fighting friends, because Dunk also comes from a wealthy family.

This is highly speculative BUT is an angle I haven't seen discussed.

Thanks for the note, @simysaru43! Tagging Sis @respectthepetty for thoughts.

It’s been gently speculated that wealth and family connections may have played a part (besides Ohm’s 2023 controversy) in the break-up of OhmNanon, considering Nanon’s nepo baby status. And Chimon Wachirawit has been public over the years about the huge financial burdens caused by his family’s debt that essentially led to him needing to find entertainment work in Series Y; as we know now, he has been working through mental health issues over the past year and likely his young adult life. (There was this very impactful video that I saw on Twitter last year, I wish I could find it, with Chimon being interviewed in front of his family’s house that had once been repossessed. Very tough to watch.)

Anyway, you may and even likely have a point. A lot of these guys — Chimon, Earth, Nanon — have been relatively open about their depression, and very often it’s financial burdens and stress that can trigger omnipresent mental health issues. Joong’s been pretty messy online. These are otherwise highly trained entertainers who are trained to not be so messy publicly. Something could be behind whatever’s driving Joong’s messiness, and it could very well be class disparities and how they’re expressed in the young Thai upper-class society that these guys roll in.

Any thoughts from your circles, @respectthepetty?

[doux-amer]

I can't believe I had such a massive headache and my eyes felt swollen all day because of the amount of crying I did this morning through the post-match farewell ceremony. I had to stay offline because everything would set me off, and like a fool, I just went on Instagram, thinking I'd be okay because I watched everything and for the new stuff, I could scroll past them and see them another day. But of course I cried again. The only way I'm getting through this week is because I have an overwhelming amount of work that's going to increase once the work week actually starts.

[awfydreich]

Keep thinking about how the 'half blank, half apocalyptic look' line is so perfect for Armand, but also like how do you even pull that off in practice? And of course Assad just goes and absolutely nails it like there's more than one possession happening here in this cast

[slowlyvaliantmoon]

eegggghhhhhhhhhhhhh

[running-in-the-dark]

-

[cementcornfield]

Another example of Jamarr being an unreliable narrator: Ted Karras was asked on Cincinnati Bengals Talk if Joe hangs out with the team outside of football and Ted says he does all time. Jamarr previously said in interviews that Joe never leaves his house.

haha i did see that. i think maybe in that case ja'marr was just alluding to joe not going out in public so much? which ted also said was the case. because yes ja'marr and tee have both said the way they primarily hang out with joe is going to his place. but i'm definitely not surprised that joe will go to other players' houses as well.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC "Pick Me Up"

The stream goes live on the first day of the school year. It's the usual song and dance - mad laughing, threats, poor jokes, terror, and about thirty kids huddled together in a classroom behind Joker's back. Tim recognizes it as one of the Gotham Academy classrooms. Dick can't imagine the horror those kids' parents must be feeling right now. Jason jokes about middle school traumatic experiences. Damian is feeling very justified for skipping classes today.

Bruce, all suited up in his Batman garb, is making his way to the Academy as fast as he possibly can. Those are kids.

Gotham is once again anxiously kept on the edge of their seats, watching as Joker decides to interview the kids on their learning experience so far. Something about leaving a good first impression on the new generation or some other bullshit. Most kids stutter over their words - it's true that Gothamites are way more composed when facing life-threatening events, but those kids are only fourteen or fifteen for the most part. They are not old enough to keep their cool in the face of a murder clown.

That is, until Joker points his camera at one of the girls. Black hair in a high ponytail, blue eyes without a trace of fear, a slightly displeased, even bored expression on her face. She looks straight into the camera, not even waiting for the laughing madman to finish his question, and deadpans:

"I don't think I like school. Pick me up, please."

Joker sputters.

"Not so scared, I see," he sneers, and, in the next moment, a comically large gun painted in purples and greens is pointed to the girl's forehead, "How about now?"

The girl scrunches her nose and makes a so-so gesture.

"It's kinda meh," she admits, "Like, yeah, points for style, but you know, size doesn't matter. It's all in the technique."

Dick snorts over the comms. It's a bad time for laughing, sure, but the phrase caught him off-guard. This is not what you'd expect to hear from a teen, and definitely not something you'd expect anyone to say to the Joker. Jason's comms are muted, but Barbara knows he also laughed a little.

"Technique, you say?" Joker hisses, pressing the gun closer to the girl's head, and she winces, leaning away from it, almost as if she is disgusted by the touch.

"Yeah, I mean, guns are not that scary anyway. What are you gonna do with them, blast my brains all over the floor? Been there, done that," the girl shrugs, "Kinda nasty, but overall, it's just like slime, only sticky." She pauses and looks to the side, seemingly lost in thought, "Huh, maybe we should have added Borax to it. Or was it baking soda?.."

"Listen here, you little brat," Joker's fingers catch the girl's chin, and his voice becomes sickeningly menacing. Bruce is almost there, just two more minutes. Tim is already grappling onto the wall.

But none of them get to finish.

"Put your dirty fingers away from my sister," a low, cold, and even in a way that speaks of barely contained fury, voice comes from out of the screen.

The camera spins, like whoever is holding it turned really fast, and everyone watching the stream sees a fairly normal guy standing by the window - a turtleneck and ripped jeans, same black hair as the girl, same blue eyes... Wait, they are not blue.

And that's not a guy.

The camera falls down to the floor, and there are a lot of panicked screams coming from the broadcast now, but none of them sound like children's voices. It's the screams of adults, of grown-ass men, and later, someone even claimed they heard Joker's scream among them, too. The picture on camera glitches a few times, and the angle is awkward, but everyone still gets to see how shadows in the room morph into eyes, wide open and green, and how the darkness grows sharp teeth, countless grinning mouths that don't belong to any faces.

Screams turn into gargling and then to quiet whispers, filling the ears of all those listening with countless words in languages they don't know.

Red Robin turns off the recording and looks to that same guy from the levestream, sitting across him on the couch. The guy - Daniel, or Danny, as he introduced himself - looks him in the eyes and raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, and?"

"How did you do it?" Tim asks for the third time this evening. Danny blinks.

"Did what?" He asks, completely incomprehending. Tim groans. He's been trying to get his answers, any answers at this point, from the guy for thirty fucking minutes already. So far, he's got nothing. Danny, whoever the fuck he is, proves to be the most annoying human being on Earth.

"Seven people in a coma, including Joker himself, with no physical injuries and none of the children remember a thing! How?!" He demands, and a girl's face peeks from around the corner:

"I remember!"

Tim snaps his head at her, "What do you remember?"

The girl pauses, blinks, and looks to Danny. Then shrugs, "My brother picked me up from school."

Tim drops his head down and breathes out in frustration. He can't force the information out of civilians, he is a vigilante, not a mafia.

"Would it make you feel better if I promise not to do it again?" Danny asks, and his voice is way too innocent for Tim to believe him. He raises his head to look the guy in his shameless, amused eyes.

"I hate you."

"Thanks," Danny grins.

[acid-ixx]

ch.1: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)

directory: preq, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five pt 1

read until the end for an author's note.

if there was one thing you hated more than the crime-filled streets of gotham, it would be empty promises.

when was the last time they attended your birthday? or your school ceremonies? or any special event that meant for you to be the center of attention?

plot twist, there was no last time, or a time before that or any day that they were there for you.

not your eldest brother, dick, not your dead brother, jason, of course tim wouldn't be there for you, damian's absence is a given, not even your sisters would come, and most especially not your father, bruce wayne.

you never wrote wayne as your last name. in every test, it would always be your mother's last name. in every document that you had to fill, you would violently scratch in the name of your father, wishing it wasn't required at all so you wouldn't have to hang your head in shame everytime someone looks at you incredulously for having the bruce wayne as your father but never once appearing to be with you.

you can't recall a time you had called him your dad, or even considered him as one.

if you could count the times you have seen him in person, it wouldn't even fill ten fingers. even interviewers and paparazzi have more luck in coming across him than you would, his child.

it sucks, really, how despite having nearly sharing the same age as tim, you never once saw him outside of his room. you thought you would've been the closest to him, but the most you have seen him was when you were watching the news with the "new" robin popping up, or worse; when bruce would be seen guiding tim through the paparazzi and not you. alfred had to drag you away from the tv that day because you were already suffering through a panic attack just seeing those two act so close; ripping your hair out just from watching the news wasn't a good way to cope.

you remember being so jealous of him, of how bruce would always spend time with him and not you. it made you wonder, were you special enough? tim is so brilliant, you could admit. and you were, too, having enough comprehensibility as a child to find out they were vigilantes a year or two after living in the manor— but you weren't good enough like tim. you weren't cut out to be like a detective or a fighter.

it was no wonder why bruce chose them over you.

it came to you in the form of talking to tim that had you discovering that no one ever mentions your name inside the house, proving it to be true when tim had hesitated calling your name and even stuttered through pronouncing it. and then he left after finding you were of no use to help him. alfred had to stifle your sobbing after tim left the room, allowing you to cry on his chest whilst you sat beside him.

(name) wayne was so, so lonely.

you would've accepted their absence long ago, but you were a stupid child who needed care and reassurance because your mother left you for good at the age of five. you were too naive into thinking you would receive the same love from your family just like the other kids in elementary would. you were a child who expected too highly of your father, thinking that he would pick you up from school with that picture perfect photographed smile of his and kiss your forehead and tell you that you did a great job at school today.

it was your teachers who would be the one having to walk you up the stage whenever you achieved an award. alfred would be too busy sometimes to attend your school ceremonies because he had to assist bruce with missions. of course, you understood his priorities. after all, he tried his hardest to make you feel less lonely inside the mansion, it wasn't enough but he was there at least.

it was long ago that you stopped praying for your family to attend at least one of your birthdays.

it's ironic, really, for a child to prep and plan for their own celebration just to hope that a single member of their family to even walk by the kitchen and join them in on their already lonesome celebration.

too bad everybody only goes to the kitchen when alfred cooks for them. who would want to taste sadness in a sloppily made birthday cake, right? nobody, not even you would have the appetite to eat your cake with the knowledge that it was you who had to put all the effort to bake it because you didn't want alfred to feel obligated to. knowing nobody would celebrate birthdays with you, save for alfred, it was expected that you started to prefer cupcakes.

because then you wouldn't be scolded for making such a mess.

you never cooked family meals after the incident where nobody came and to not waste food, you had to bring in large containers to bring to school so you could celebrate your birthday there.

it was there that you find more solace in your small group of friends compared to the desolate rooms of the mansion. your family celebrates holidays together as a whole, but you never once attended after that one time where everybody had forgotten to get you a gift for christmas, save for alfred who gave you a bracelet (one that you cherished deeply). you only smiled weakly and hopelessly, sneaking into your room before the family dinner.

it was alfred again who bought you leftovers and sat on your bed for an hour to encourage you that there's still more christmas's to go.

you never believed what he said. not anymore.

there was a period of time where you hated them more than anything, blamed them for everything and became more rebellious, purposely failing tests, fighting your classmates and disrespecting teachers in hopes that for once your father would bat an eye on you. that only resulted in you being taken out of the school and being transferred into another, for a behavioral reform is what alfred stated to you when you annoyed him for answers.

damian started to bully you a bit more harder after that incident, calling you immature and childish, a weakling, an attention seeker. how someone at your age should've known better. you were convinced that he was relishing in the heartbroken glare you gave him, ignoring the way his eyes widened momentarily at your reaction before sneering and walking away.

alfred gently scolded you, but you were too choked up and instead you almost tripped running inside your bedroom, locking yourself in for what seems like hours.

you don't want to remember the immense breakdown you had that evening too, screaming on your blankets and destroying your things and hurting yourself because... because you had lost your old friends for nothing! your caring teachers, your academic progress, everything! every single thing for an ounce of attention! because he didn't have enough energy to come with you to the guidance counselor and he only had you transfer out so you wouldn't ruin the wayne's reputation!

you hate him, you hate bruce fucking wayne so much and you hate clinging onto their empty promises and sorry's to make it up for you. you hate how their promises were never even said directly to you, you hate how alfred was your only source of hope for a medium of communication.

you hate them all.

and worst of all, you hate yourself for drowning in hope. for wishing you were physically stronger so you could at least bond with them through training. for dreaming about a day where they could surprise you and told you they were just testing you and that you actually had worth inside this manor. for praying nightly that they'll smile at you like the heroes you see in tv rather than that of pity.

you wished there was a universe where gotham was safer, more protected with no criminals littering the streets. maybe then they would have more time to notice you crying every night, writing self destructive entries in your diary, sketching what would've been a happy family. they wouldn't have to wear their silly costumes to fight crime and instead would save you from your own demons.

if...

if you were brutally tortured and killed by the joker, or forced to choke on the fear toxin by the scarecrow— hell, even beaten to near death by some random goons; would they have given you a sliver of their love? would they finally look at you and save you from yourself?

because despite your resentment, you would never lie and say you didn't feel blessed that you were thrown to a family of talented individuals.

your drawings of a complete and happy family holding hands together and a diary filled with rants and fantasies of spending time with them proved just that.

you were blessed with them yet cursed at the same time to never reach the same level to be even considered part of their lives.

you were hopeless. you never amounted to anything. you were just, you.

thirteen years have passed by then, and in those years you were proud to say your development as a person, albeit slow, transformed you from a child that succumbed to neglect to an independent person who managed to maintain a comfortable circle of friends, a scholarship for a college far away from gotham, and an apartment of your own (you were a bit in debt due to having to pay for your own because no way in hell would you ask for your father for financial support).

allowance was scarce, your food supplies weren't infinite compared to back when you were living at the wayne manor, and you weren't greeted to michelin star restaurant meals cooked by alfred— but you were content, and that was enough.

though content translated to nightly breakdowns whilst finishing projects or writing essays, the point still stands! at least you had celebrated your eighteenth birthday with drunk smiles and your friends spoiling you to death when you had opened up about your first lonely years of life. everything was going well for you, truly.

you were so, so happy for the nice turn of events. and you wouldn't have made it so far if you hadn't slapped yourself out of the delusion that they actually cared for you.

look at you now! independent and with a life of your own! you'd give yourself a pat in the back.

you hadn't blocked them at all, but their contacts were empty (save for a few desperate messages that date back years ago) and you were fine with that. it's not like tim or bruce or barbara considered you important enough to be stalked. hah, as if!

alfred communicates with you time to time, reminding you to eat a complete meal rather than those one dollar priced noodles that tasted like pure salt. he told you he misses you a lot, you and your annoying, daily rants about life and school. he misses your awkward smile and when you would help him cook whenever the others aren't around. he misses it when you imitate his posh accent when you taste test his food and give commentary about it.

you miss him, too. growing up, you realized just how much effort alfred would exert just to spend a lot of his time on you.

now, he told you that you are still welcome to the manor whenever, and how he cleans your room weekly in case you'll visit him.

whenever you audio call with him, you'd tear up just a bit at the realization that alfred was more of a father figure than your own biological father. because he at least attended your graduation to make up for the other times he was unable to join you.

what's even better was that he gifted you something you had always wanted for your birthday. despite it being delivered to your door rather than him giving it to you face to face (since you had refused to give him your location and him respecting that decision at least), the heartfelt letter he left you was more than enough to let you cling onto pieces of your past. after all, it was him who greeted you by the door when you were first introduced into the family, bruce being too busy with paperwork that day when you were a measly five year old.

you had started to teasingly call him 'alfie' and a few more nickname after that, which results with a chuckle over the phone every time you had come up with a cheesy name for him whenever you get a wee bit irritated at his own way of making fun of you.

if only this was your life years ago, then maybe you wouldn't have been jealous of all your other friends and pushed them away that day, maybe you would learn that sometimes, family comes in the form of the people outside of your house rather than inside.

that reminds you, maybe you should reconnect with your old friends back in elementary and apologized for your sudden explosive behavior.

you were laying on your bed, phone in hand and opened your inst*gram app to stalk through the names you could remember. well... that was what you should've done, if not for the fact that a notification popped up the very moment you pressed on the search bar and you had accidentally opened a chat with your oldest brother, dick.

you would've ignored the desperate messages you have sent him from the past which all varied from inviting him to eat dinner with you or to at least join you to play in an arcade or anything to convince him to talk to you, all of which were unseen, if not for the fact that it was him who sent you a sudden "hey baby bird!!! <333 long time no see! how are you?!" message, alongside a few more replies that spammed through your phone...

oh!

... that was enough to make you sit up and want to hurl.

dick grayson was a man of many talents. the mature eldest child, the ideal good leader despite his anger issues from time to time, and the same guy who set the standards high for the future robins. he is bruce's greatest achievement.

it was safe to say that if not for the support of many, then he would've suffered so many falls and would've never been strong enough to stand up despite the pain and continue his fights. nightwing was what many superheroes strive to be, an image of light in a grove of darkness such as gotham.

so why was it that he felt like he has failed so deeply right now?

inside your room, dick stands with furrowed brows. it felt too clean to look used. your furniture was polished and look untouched, the lights were too bright and the windows were bolted shut. there were no signs of life other than the notebooks and sketchbooks that were neatly tucked on the middle of the bed and the trinkets that scatter through your desk.

dick stalks through the room, careful to not make a noise as he walks over to the closet, opening it and finding nothing.

he bites his lips at the implication that this was probably the second time he visited your room and how it was also the longest time he remained here. compared to his other siblings, you were the one he noticed the least and... now he feels bad for dismissing you.

didn't he promise to take you out for dinner months ago?

damn it, he was way too focused on his mission that night and ended up ditching and forgetting you! oh god, dick facepalmed and clenched his teeth, seething in some air because no fucking way did he actually remember to feed damian's dog, titus, the same day but forgot to take you out for an important event...

it occurred to him that that was the same day you scored a perfect on "the hardest test of my life!" you had bragged to him awkwardly when he wasn't listening nor looking and you, wanting to celebrate what was a small achievement for dick, chose him to spend time with you!

dick had to carefully breath through his mouth then gulp down the shame he feels right now. he- he has no time to focus on the past but rather the present. he has to find out why the hell is your room so lifeless, yeah... then he'll make it up to you today, definitely.

huh?

is it just him, but why does the room seem so small? it looked like it was meant to be for a kid. clearly, there wasn't enough space for a growing individual like you... did bruce not provide you with a bigger bedroom? ah, dick would definitely tell bruce to relocate you to a bigger room, the current one is too small for even a dog in a manor to sleep in.

dick doesn't want to admit it at all, but... he hasn't seen you for the past few months, or not all, really. sure, he had only recently visited the manor since he's bludhaven's vigilante now, but even through his time in gotham he had never seen you other than the times you pulled his sleeves from back when you were a child.

back when you were a child.

how old are you now? you were so small back then, innocent too. he can recall your curious eyes, your chubby cheeks and the way you stutter through your words as you try to talk to him.

you were significantly younger than jason, and was adopted a week before tim was introduced to the family. he remembers you peeking through alfred's back, gleaming with curiousity and whispering to the butler if it was really the dick grayson. he smiled fondly at your dumbfounded expression, the way your mouth shaped into an "ohh," when he was the one who answered that, yes, it was him. then you whispered again if you can take have an autograph from him, to which he chuckled and told alfred that he'll help accompany you to your room.

when your five year old body tried to waddle closer to his body for an ounce of warmth when he had been guiding you up the stairs, that was also the first time he called you baby bird, with the way you coddled him so closely. his hands find itself patting your head, ruffling your hair and grinning as you both make your path through the halls.

he comes to immediately regret leaving you alone after he had introduced you to your room, remembering his duties as a vigilante than that of a brother.

but despite his early memories of you, he wants to see his baby sibling all grown up now.

had it really been years?

when was the last time you ever had a full-on conversation with him?

was there even a time that he had approached you by himself?

he had always called you baby bird after the first time you meet because of the age gap you two shared. the rare times he acknowledges you, you gave him that look filled with such adoration, like you were proud of him for being your older brother. why did he not notice you?

oh, his baby bird...

dick gulped, trying to ease his shivering by sitting on your neatly folded blankets and taking a worn diary in his hand, one at the bottom stack of books. well, if it was a personal diary then maybe you would've hidden it better, right? he figures since it was all placed on the center of the bed like a piece of treasure that... it would be alright to take just a glimpse.

to confirm if you still see him as your favorite brother.

dick's heartbeat spiked, hoping your entries would be filled with, he doesn't know, anything that didn't implicate some sort of hatred for the family, for him. hoping that despite his lack of attention towards you, that there would still be a spark of love for him. if what he thinks was actually true then... he doesn't know what to do with himself.

he flips through the first page, noting how it was bulkier than the others. the paper was filled with glittery decorations, sequence beads and cheap stickers sparkling at every angle the light hits. it was meant to be a design for the 'front cover' of the notebook, colors blended in a cacophony of rainbows and butterflies and flowers beyond the messy calligraphy that merely states "(name)'s diary!"

dick stifles a grin just from skimming through at the amount of mistakes and erasures, clearly written by the the younger version of you; naive to the world and its cruelty. he commends your creativity, his eyes softening at the few doodles that were written on the corners of the pages.

you're just too adorable for your own good, so much so that the thumping in dick's heart beats louder and louder, ears wringing uncomfortable inside your unventilated bedroom. but he just couldn't rip his eyes away from the diary, daydreaming about how proud you must've been when designing your own diary. he could picture your wide eyes, shy and harmless, and your feet kicking back and forth whilst you decorate your stuff.

everything was what he expected it to be on the first few pages of the diary. all your little rants about your daily life, your eargerness to meet your entire family from your father's side, and the hurt you experienced from your mother's sudden abandonment.

he would've skipped through another diary, one that lacked design and color, save for the name plastered on the front, if not for the grim undertones at every end of your entries despite the child-like manner it was written in.

it all started with "i wish to see my father soon and my big brother dick again!", "alfred told me my father can't come to the parent-teacher conference, he says he's in a veryyy important meeting :( but alfred would come!", "dick told me he can't help me with my science project but he promise he'll help me with something else later!" which halfway through the diary, your style fluctuates and lesser effort was exhausted on the writing.

one entry in particular, written on the last page of your diary, shattered a sliver of hope within dick, his breathing momentarily ceased from reading through your sentences; uncharacteristic of you, too mature for someone at the age of ten to write.

"XX/XX/XXXX.

dear diary, it's my tenth birthday today. i celebrated with my friends at school. they told me i always look down whenever it's my birthday. they think that bruce would throw a fancy celebration for me. i tried to hide my laughter from them. it's a really funny joke. i haven't seen him for months. i told dick that he was invited but i don't think he remembers it's my birthday today. alfred told me to come out of my room, he said he cooked my favorite dinner, that he's sorry he got my present late, but i don't want get out of my room. i heard dick is gonna watch a movie with tim later. i don't feel so good, my chest hurts, but i don't want to get out right now.

i'll eat the cupcake tomorrow."

it had been nearly two hours since dick had sat on your bed, eyes dilating whilst reading through your first diary. the cold season had already pricked his skin, but his entire body felt so unnaturally warm, a warmth that scorches him, searing deep into flesh. a lump had form in his throat, accompanying the hellish throbbing of his heart.

"fuck..." he brought his fingers to his head, carefully massaging his forehead but it relieves nothing. he wants to see you right now— he needs to talk to you. god, he has to apologize, he needs to see what you look like right now, needs to know if you're alright.

you're clearly not.

he has to oppress the urge to punch the walls, reminding himself that it's your room he's in and if he damages your already delicate property, then he's proving himself worse than he already is.

he rushes to grab another diary, the one at the top of the pile, skipping to the end of the page.

nothing. all the entries were months ago, all written in vague detail like you were starting to hide secrets. his teeth grinds against each other, frustration seeping through his veins.

he needs to— shit, he needs to find you right now. he needs to find his baby bird and make up for the all bullshit him and his family had done. if you were gone for months, even years; he doesn't even want to think about it.

but how?!

there were no signs of you. anything written your diary, your drawings, the trinkets on your bedside table— they signal no clues whatsoever, all dating back to months, even years. it's not possible at all, for nobody to notice your disappearance. dick would've noticed sooner. he should've noticed sooner. oh, he doesn't even want to think about the dangers that await you outside the mansion. with how naive you were about the outside world, you wouldn't last at all.

his baby bird wouldn't survive gotham's streets, especially not when winter was nearing.

think, grayson, think...

his phone!

he immediately reaches into his pockets to grab his phone, clammy fingers swifly encoding his password and opening his contacts.

your number was the quickest to find, it was the only one without an icon of you and an endearing nickname. he makes a mental note to change that soon and replaced your default name to your nickname.

then, without hesitation, he typed, "hey baby bird!!! <333 long time no see! how are you?!" sending the message without rereading, foot tapping impatiently against the floor as he scrolls through all your previous messages.

messages that he should've replied to with the same level of enthusiasm as you. skimming through the past, unseen texts as your motivation began to dwindle the further he refused to reply back. he promises he'll never make you feel invisible again.

seconds feel like hours for him, as he blows raspberries to pass the time, too concentrated an ounce of a reply to even notice the entirely new presence inside the room.

it's alright to call you, yes? after all, dick just wanted to check in with his baby bird and see if you're doing swell and dandy and... safe without him...!

his thumbs pressed on the call button before he could think through his actions, his other hand runs through his hair, sweat running down his forehead as if he had ran a marathon.

he waited, and waited, and waited until the call beeped and provided its automated response. he calls you again but the line immediately cuts off, he tries to spam you with more messages but they weren't delivered.

you blocked him.

fuck, he messed up big time. he needs to get to the batcave. he needs to find your fucking location before it's too late. dick needs to see you again before he loses it.

but before he could carefully place your sketchbooks back to its rightful place, he sees a silhouette at the corner of his eyes; short figure, arms crossed, and a sneer on his eyes already tells him who it was.

damian wayne.

he forgot to train with damian today.

but it doesn't matter, damian has to see it for himself— what made dick so disheveled, so delirious. damian has to finally see just how much of a wonderful sibling you are.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: this was 4,600+ words and it drained the energy out of me. it was supposed to be posted tomorrow but i was too motivated !! i'm also quite proud of this chapter. it was a pain characterizing dick grayson and the reader. i really hope this is as good as the prequel because it's 3am right now and writing dick's part was a pain in the ass ^^' as always, please do comment or send asks if you like it for quicker updates!!!

taglist: @lilyalone, @secretomelettetroops, @earlqurl, @simpingfor-wakasa, @amber-content, @alishii, @ruiroku, @okaybutfullhomo, @trasshy-artist, @obsessedwithromance, @deadinside-09, @jjsmeowthie, @fairy-lenaa (shoutout to her specifically because i got motivated from their comment!)

[poguehearted77]

Co-Star Confessions

Pairing: Actress! Reader x Drew Starkey

Co-Star Confessions-> The cast takes you along on a trip to take a lie detector test for an interview. The jokes are rolling and the tea starts to spill.

Summary: A lie detector, a dark room, and unspoken tension pull you into a whirlwind of revelations, where secrets are spilled, emotions run high, and your growing romance with Drew becomes impossible to hide.

Belongs to my: OBX Season 5: Payback for Maybank Series

These can be read in any order!

"Okay be honest, who else went on a deep dive of doom last night and watched all of Blackbox's previous interviews?" Madelyn turns from her place in the passenger seat, facing you, Madison and Chase so you can hear her question clearly.

All hands go up. The anticipation is high and circling in the car. Today the cast has split up into two cars as you're being shipped off to another studio to record an interview with Blackbox.

"Some of those questions were brutal, and you're hooked up to a lie detector so there's no chance you can avoid the truth." Chase lets out a weighted breath, his mind running off with the possible questions they could ask. There's a small sprout of fear blossoming around the possibility they'll pry open closed doors about his and Madelyn's break up. 

The concept is simple: Prior to the interview, Blackbox has done their own research and collected some surface-level, intermediate, and mildly invasive questions that the fans of the show are circulating online. One by one, the cast will sit in the empty black room with no one but the polygrapher and a lie detector, the questions get asked and if you're telling the truth you get a point, if you're lying you lose a point.

The castmate with the most points at the end gets to ask any co-star any question of their choice.

"I can't believe I let Madison drag me into this." You scoff and all she does is smile bright and innocent. It took some convincing of the producers but she's very persuasive when she needs to be.

"We're family now. If we go down, so do you." Chase holds your hand and gives it a condescending squeeze. "I take that as a threat." You snatch your hand away and everyone laughs.

As you arrived, it seems the car with Carlacia, Drew and JD had beat you guys there. Their driver was already pulling off the lot, telling you the others were inside. You got out of the car behind Chase and adjusted your clothes.

Today, your stylists had picked out a white long-sleeve shirt layered under a sleek black vest, paired with a gray mini skirt, black sheer tights, a small shoulder bag, delicate gold acccesories, and a sleek pulled-back pony-tail for a perfectly polished look.

You could already hear the chatter from the studio from out in the hall as you entered the room behind Madison, more chatter erupting as the full cast is reunited. You did your rounds to greet the others you hadn't been riding with. "You look great," Drew compliments as he briefly rests his head atop yours during your hug. You fit in his arms as perfectly as a puzzle.

His pathetic instincts allowed him to take a deeper breath to get a stronger pull of your gentle perfume that intoxicated his mind. "I don't remember getting a compliment from you this morning!" Carlacia accuses him playfully and he laughs along before flattering her endlessly and you thought it was cute.

There’s no denying it. From the very beginning, you and Drew have danced around the unspoken tension, the sparks that have lingered just beneath the surface. But lately, those sparks have started to feel dangerous, like a fuse waiting to ignite. The two of you can’t be left alone for long—what starts as two chairs between you inevitably narrows to one, and then, before you realize it, none at all.

One second you're both rehearsing lines in the studio-b trailer and the next you're passed out on the couch side-by-side. Even though that only happened once, it was more than enough. You've blown through nearly two-thirds of filming the final season and it was easy to consider Drew one of your closest friends, both on and off-set.

There were late-night phone calls, early morning face-times, minimal texting since he hardly replied to his messages but lots of heated glances that shouldn't make you feel as hot as they did. Like right now.

Madelyn is currently removing a piece of lint that had fallen onto your hair from god knows where, meanwhile, you pretended you couldn't feel Drew's deep gaze from behind Madelyn's head, but you shook it off. You had to.

It wasn't long before you're all being ushered to take your seats in the black room, getting ready to record your introduction which will be the only time the whole cast is in the black room together for the interview.

"We're the cast of Outer Banks and welcome to Blackbox." You all say, introducing yourselves personally then retreating to the holding room where there are five chairs, a one-way glass looking into the black room and a microphone.

The assistants spun a wheel which decided that JD is the first one up on the chopping block. "Keep the questions pg-13, please. I've got family that's gonna see this." He pleads, letting himself be strapped into the chair and hooked up with the various components of the detector. Meanwhile, you took the seat in the holding room between Carlacia and Drew.

"So he really can't see us?" Madelyn questioned, waving to JD through the window, but he was unresponsive. "All he sees is a mirror, but when you use the microphone, he can hear your voice in the speakers in the room." One of the cameramen explains and you all nod along.

"Okay, Madelyn, you're first to read the questions. Pick up one cue card from the surface-level, intermediate and invasive stack and project your voice into the mic." She's directed but you all listen for when it's your turn.

Madelyn: "JD, What's your favourite memory from filming season 5 Outer Banks so far?"

He jolts a little in his seat, not expecting to hear Madelyn's voice so clearly in a room where he can't see her, but he answers nonetheless.

JD: When Chase and I were rehearsing that scene where we have to hang-glide off a cliff but Chase's hands slipped and he misses the bar, and he just goes falling to the foam platform like twenty feet below us, but it wasn't even that. It was the scream he let out. I still think about it.

"He's telling the truth." The woman informs.

Chase has his head in his hands while you and Carlacia hold onto eachother, laughing until you're gasping for air.

Madelyn picks up the top cue card from the intermediate pile.

Madelyn: Which castmate are you closest to?

"Oooh." There's a collective sound that sweeps across the studio, it made everyone uneasy, not because of the question. It's a difficult question and everyone knows there are no hard feelings involved but if this is an intermediate question then you should all be nervous.

JD sighs, "You know what-- Unstrap me." He pretends to grab at the wires and it elicits a round of laughs while he thinks about it.

JD: This is hard. I feel like I have such a different relationship with everyone, but..... uhhh... If I had to narrow it down, I guess probably Madelyn.

There's a long silence, everyone waiting for the polygrapher to confirm or deny. "He's telling the truth."

Madelyn: "It must be fate that I'm the one asking your questions. Luv ya. Now, for your final, invasive question. You recently implied in an interview that you're seeing someone, is that true?"

Your hands clasp over your mouth. "Brutal," Carlacia whispers under her breath while you and Drew lean over the edge of your seats as if you didn't already know the answer to this question.

"No." He denies it, another stomach-churning silence. You can see the nerves rolling down JD's face as he waits for the results. "That was a lie." The crew is making some indistinct noise while the cast is stunned to silence. None of you were going to make it out of this interview alive.

JD's head falls with a guilty grin, dreading the news this would spread in the press. He almost immediately unlatches himself from the machine and enters the waiting room with the rest of you, sending in Chase.

"That shit is intense. It's just so dark, and ominous, and you've got a spotlight on you. Makes you feel like you're on trial for a crime you didn't commit." Drew stands to give him a pat on the back, "You did good, man. Hopefully Maya isn't too blindsided by that last question."

Maya is JD's secret girlfriend, official as of last month, you've met her a handful of times but you clicked almost instantly and often texted on Instagram and shared reels.

The game went on, and the questions didn't get any easier. You watched as you all trickled in and out of the rooms, getting paired off in an order something like this:

Madelyn asking JD

Drew asking Chase

Carlacia asking Madelyn

Chase asking Y/N

Y/N asking Madison

Madison asking Carlacia

JD asking Drew

There's an acrylic nail poking your shoulder and you shudder. "You're up," Carlacia informs you and you nearly vomit. The questions have been ruthless thus far, you honestly wonder how and why the producers approved this.

"Hey Madison, this is for you." You hold up your middle fingers, regretting ever letting her get you involved in this bloodbath. She blows you a kiss and wishes you luck.

Chase: "Y/n-"

You're not sure what it is about it, but you and Chase have had enough bloopers on set, that this felt no different, even though you couldn't see him, you broke out in laughter. Before the mic cut out you heard Chase's abrupt laughter cut through.

This is how you two always were. Unable to keep it together. The directors hated when you had a scene together (even though they'd laugh too). "Okay okay, I'm sorry. I'm ready." You reassure, "That was a lie", The polygrapher debunks your confession and it sends everyone rolling for another five minutes due to its spontaneity.

"Okay. For real this time." You clear your throat, waiting for Chase to start with the questions.

Chase: "If you weren’t acting, what would your job be?"

"Ooh, I love photography, my phone is always gonna be in your face, and I've got like a dozen cameras. So, probably a photographer." You answer. The question is light, but it doesn't erase the uneasy feeling bubbling in your stomach. "True."

Chase prepares to move on to the intermediate stack of cards, shuffling them, just for fun.

"Here we go," Madison leans over to JD, they both knew there were bound to be some wild cards for you and Drew. Ever since your casting as Piper was made public not too long ago, the fans immediately flocked to find all your socials.

The rumours between you and Drew were already starting to spin. All stemming from one photo added to one of Carlacia's many photo dumps a few weeks ago. The image is of you playfully feeding Drew a strawberry from when you'd all done some sightseeing and visited the local Portuguese farms.

Chase: "Fans noticed you recently reposted a TikTok that said, 'When he’s tall enough to climb like a tree>>'—was that just for laughs, or did you have someone in mind?"

Your hands raise to your face and you scream, Madison screams, JD laughs, Madelyn kicks her feet while Carlacia gasps--Simply put, the cast is overcome.

Drew straightens a little, now more intrigued than ever (as if he wasn't before). His eyes sparkle with hope? Interest? Certainty. A subtle wave of confidence runs down his spine as he confirms to himself that you're talking about him. You both know it, and you've never been so glad that you couldn't see his face.

"My TikTok account is private how did they even-?!"

Chase: "Answer the question Ms. Y/n."

You could hear his smirk through the mic. Oh, he was enjoying this too much. You made a mental reminder to send Kelsea all the worst images that you've taken of him. "It was just for fun," you shrug.

"That was a lie", You knew it was coming, honestly, but at least you tried.

Chase: "You've recently been cast as the lead in a new rom-com called The Love Equation set to release in 2026, congratulations."

Chase prefaces the question with the recent news that was unveiled to the public merely a few days ago. It was a very recent endeavour of yours.

Not long after you started filming for Outer Banks, you'd received a call back from this project and filming was set to start a little after the OBX premiere which is a little less than three months away.

"Thank you, thank you. I'm very excited and grateful for the opportunity." You say, pretending you weren't dreading the question that's soon to follow. Chase's flattery made you nervous, regardless if he was just reading what was on the card.

Chase: If you could pick any castmate to star alongside you in a rom-com, who would you pick?"

Drew's jaw locks at the question. His grip on the arm of the chair tightens subconsciously as he watches your every move. From the way you looked up at the ceiling, pretending to think to your left foot pacing an unsteady rhythm.

All while Madison was watching Drew, a small smile creeping up on her lips. She needed no further confirmation from the two of you, your body language was loud enough. To her, at least.

"Drew." You say nothing more, nothing less. You don't want to fan the flames that fans have already sparked to life from a simple picture. "She's telling the truth." Yeah, obviously, but you don't say that out loud.

The time seems to fly now that your turn had passed and finally, it's Drew's turn. Deep down you've been waiting for this all day, but if you're being honest, you're a little scared for him.

Drew has one of the biggest and most blunt fanbases of the cast. You've seen how they can get sometimes, you've read the TikTok comments and seen the X threads. Hopefully, nothing gets taken out of context or blown out of proportion.

JD: "What’s your favorite way to unwind after a long day of filming?"

His lips pucker a little in thought, and it dawned on him. "I recently got gifted like, an ungodly amount of bubble bath, but I've actually been using them lately. So, I'll say a nice, hot bath, yeah."

The polygrapher confirms that his statement is in fact true and the round progresses.

JD: "If you had to be stuck on an island with one of your castmates for 24 hours, who would you pick—and what would you two do to pass the time?"

Drew fights the grin on his face, "I'd say Chase, we would go hang-gliding-" He's hardly able to get the sentence out before he's interrupted by his own cackles.

Chase adds his own thoughts into the mic, "You know what, Drew, fuck you, okay?" Chase states before returning to his seat while Drew chokes over his laughs to deliver an insincere apology. "That was true." The room erupts with more laughter at that.

JD: "Your final, invasive question, have you ever secretly dated or hooked up with someone from a movie/show you've worked on, including this one?"

The entire studio goes pin-drop silent. Madison's hand reaches out to hold yours, for comfort, or maybe support? Your eyes are glued to the window that shows a nervous Drew, the most nervous you'd ever seen him. He's starting to sweat.

The two of you have never hooked up, but now you're curious. You would get to find out if he's gotten involved with other girls he's worked with before. Was everything he did just an act? Was it a thing he did with everyone?

"I have not." He answers.

There's silence.

The polygrapher is doing it on purpose, you're sure of it.

...

....

........

JD turns around to face you all and whispers, "Guys, I'm literally shaking for him. Look!" He held out his hand with the card, and it showed a true reflection of his words.

"That is..." She drags out the verdict.

The anticipation got so bad you've all somehow ended up standing, you all might as well press your noses up against the glass.

"True."

The cheering is loud when it swallows the holding room. It's almost shameful how much of a weight you felt lifted off your shoulders at the declaration. Drew is the only one to have told the truth for all three questions, giving him 3 points. He wins.

"Now, Drew. You get to ask any co-star any question you'd like." One of the crewmates instructs as they had you all lined up in the room under Drew's judgement. He stalked along, looking everyone in the eyes, yours lasted a little longer than he was willing to admit but he eventually stopped on Madison.

"Madison, Madison, Madison." Drew taunted in the mic and she rolled her eyes with an all-knowing grin.

Drew: "Not too long ago you were disrespecting my childhood delicacy, the uncrustable. Now, there are rumours going around that you've been seen with them lately, is it true?"

Small giggles were let out around the room. Drew is unbelievable.

"Yes." Madison whispers, looking off to the side.

Drew: What was that? I'll need you to speak up.

Madison: Yes! It's true. Satisfied?

Drew: Very. No further questions, your honour.

You all film the closing sequence, reminding the audience the final season will be released on Netflix on August 30th and September 25th, 2025.

You're all making your way out to the cars. The original groups naturally switched up as you all jumped into the car with people you were in conversations with as you left the studio. This time it's you, Drew, JD and Madelyn.

"Wow, that was lowkey worse than I thought it was going to be." JD admits from the passenger seat and you snicker. Without even realizing it, your head was laying on Drew's shoulder, feeling the sleepiness begin to settle in after an eventful afternoon.

"All that drama genuinely drained the energy from my body." You yawn, and Drew subtly shifts so that you'd find more comfort in him, and you snuggle up just a little more. This is a feeling he could get used to.

Taglist: @percysley, @lilithblackkk, @rafegf-real, @eternallovers65, @drsza, @wearemadeofstardust0, @cadhlabear, @thepopcultureaddict, @citr0us, @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account, @madi44444,@willowpains, @riaras-everthroner, @iteuosav

[diamondsunbursts-and-marblehalls]

The first real conversation Katniss has with Peeta is when he tells her that he wants to die as himself, that he doesn't want the games to change him into something he's not, and that he wants to keep his identity and prove he's more than just a piece in their games because that's the only thing he has left to care about.

The first time we see Lucy Gray she sings a song that basically says that nothing they could take from her was worth keeping. "Can't take my past. Can't take my history... You can't take my charm. You can't take my health."

The capitol has taken everything from them both, but at the same time, they could never take away who they are.

They are both likeable charismatic and funny, with the kindest hearts, and incredibly loyal to the people they care about.

At the same time, everything they do before the games, and during is calculated. Lucy Gray singing a love song and winning the hearts of the capitol. Peeta confesses he's in love with his district partner, therefore cementing her identity as desirable. Both of them know how to sway people with words, how to charm people, and how to manipulate crowds. Neither of them has any problem doing so to keep themselves, and the people they love safe.

Lucy Gray's song The Old Therebefore, about learning how to love and live her life to the fullest before death, a final and calculated stroke in a last-ditch effort to save herself from the arena. This evokes enough emotion in the watchers to get them to rise to their feet and plead for her life alongside Snow.

Snow, watching the 74th and preparing for the 75th Hunger Games sees Lucy Gray in Katniss. A young girl, from the 12th district. Unafraid at the reaping. Selling a false love story, manipulating a boy who loves her in order to get out and supporting the revolution with the mockingjay as her symbol.

He threatens her family to get her to sell that she and Peeta are in love, to prevent the revolution, because obviously, she's pretending. He's had experience with a girl just like her before. He has no doubt that she has the acting ability to sell this story because clearly, she manipulated the first Hunger Games in her favor, the same way Lucy Gray manipulated him.

Watching the interviews for the 75th Hunger Games he realizes-

Katniss is just an impulsive girl, in a Mockingjay dress she didn't know about, made by someone who supports the revolution.

Peeta is a boy who has the ability to move people with just his words. He made Katniss desirable, he was the one who sold the love story, and he was the one to make their romance seem real. Katniss only started the revolution because she would rather risk dying with him than live without him. A concept President Snow was completely unfamiliar with. And it is with all these realizations crashing around him Peeta drops the baby bomb. He knows the baby's not real, and so does Snow. But it evokes enough emotion in the watchers to get them to rise to their feet and plead for the lives of the tributes.

Is it Lucy Gray or Peeta?

By the time Snow realizes he's made a mistake, it's too late.

Peeta is still charming and manipulating the capitol. Katniss is in love.

He goes up against a kindhearted boy expecting to beat Sejanus again, only to find out that it's Lucy Gray he's fighting; knowing he will never be able to escape their ghosts.

-from a conversation i had with @grandtyphoonpoetry breaking down every character in the hunger games.

[casuallyanidiot]

Yandere manager who was never gonna let you get famous.

Nsfw for this one! MDNI!

Warning for noncon/dubcon!

Yandere manager who holds a high position in a prestigious entertainment company. He works with so many prolific stars, so he's surprised that your pitiful little portfolio ever even made it to his desk. You've got no experience, no connections, and you're not exactly industry standard in terms of beauty.

Yandere manager thinks it's kind of funny that a cute little thing like you thinks they can make it in such a cutthroat industry. he's kinda curious about what you're like though, so he calls you in for an interview. He can't help his large, sleazy grin that forms on his face when you sit there in his office stuttering through an introduction.

Sure he'll hire you, but you've gotta get on your knees.

Yandere manager feels a sick thrill run up his spine as he goes over contract details while your pretty little lips are spread around his cock. Your eyes are filled with tears, and he can feel your little whines and sobs vibrate in the back of your throat, and he groans. He has to admit it, you've got that special something about you that certainly has him captivated.

"Looks like we've got ourselves a deal, sweetie," He grunts out playfully and signs his name as he forces your head down further and came down your throat.

Yandere Manager who only books you for enough gigs for you to justify staying with him. He makes you fuck him whenever he asks, and whenever you want an actual job, you have to do something more extreme to get it. A modeling gig? Yeah sure babe. You've just got to dress super slutty and let him take you in the middle of a crowded club.

Yandere Manager who rails you violently whenever he catches you trying to network. He bets you think you're so smart and clever for chatting up some pervy, old director to get a spot in a music video. Does he not give you enough? You don't need all that attention unless he's giving it to you. You don't even know how many people are gonna wanna bury themselves in that tight little hole of yours, how many people would take advantage of you. At least with him, you knew what you were getting.

You're fucked so thoroughly, and Yandere manager loves watching you stumble around after he's stuffed you full of cum. He's started making you wear plugs afterwards just so he can watch the discomfort on your face as he takes you out shopping or for meals.

Yandere manager starts to feel a bit fond of you in not just a carnal way. As much as he loves seeing your cute little asshole twitch and stretch around the toys he pushes in you, he also likes seeing you smile, hearing you laugh. He likes the way your eyes light up when he allows you to do a photo shoot. He starts liking the way you shudder and squeal when you orgasm, too.

He's not a sappy guy by any means. Really, he sucks. Even he knows that, but maybe now that you've got his initials tattooed on your plump, well spanked ass cheeks, he can start making you like him too.

He's gross, and he knows it. But he loves fucking you so much he can't find it in himself to care. I mean you're not going to get away when he's got you coming back to him with the promise of success that he's never ever gonna let you have. Not for the risk of his favorite, cute little fucktoy leaving him.