#like no hes literally californias dream frat boy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

weeklyfangirl · 6 years ago

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Frat Boy Pt. 14

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13

here we go! some answers are revealed, but with more answers come more questions... obviously ;) please don’t hesitate to like/reblog if you enjoy it and share how you feel here. Lowkey but highkey the reason i post this story is to interact with you guys and hear your responses! lots of la-la-la-lovvvee xx

I didn’t need to see anything in the crowd. For up on the wall, between collectors’ paintings was a vacant space.

The family portrait was gone.

And in its place was a snake that matched the one I’d seen tattooed on skin, the same snake that had been wrapped around my neck...

The police urged Mrs. Styles to shut down the party, but no man in uniform was tougher than her will to put on a show. The crowd lingered, more intrigued than frightened by the drama, no doubt wanting to carry on what they’d witnessed first-hand to their social circles on the other side of the gate.

Harry requested a Lyft immediately after to take me home. I cancelled it, unwilling to leave and wanting to hear what the police could make of it. Mrs. Styles showed them less concern than she did the caterers, and entertained them ten minutes tops before shooing them out. She gave a statement and allowed them to interview some staff, but then they were gone. Everyone else had been at the auction.

Even Harry, apparently. I’m not sure why he lied, but there must have been a reason. The officers had looked at me to confirm, and I felt Harry’s eyes on me as I nodded. I lied, too.

I stayed long enough to see the auction resume. The foundation hadn’t suffered either, nearly raising a million by the end of the night. One of the prizes? A date with Mary’s sole prized son. His eyes remained locked on mine at the head of the podium as the eager socialites bid to set up their daughters or their neices. Maybe they were bidding for themselves to escape their husbands for the night. At the top of the podium, people threw money at him like a commodity. I knew it was for a larger cause, but the smile he threw on wasn’t the one I’d seen in the moments we were together. It was the one for show, the one that put people at ease and didn’t cause anymore probing questions. It came second-nature to him; it was a second skin, a mask like the one that covered his face, but stunning nevertheless.

He couldn’t meet my eyes when the final bid was placed. $4,500.

Viv won.

I let him call the Lyft for me after that.

Even back in my dorm with the company of Renny’s gentle snores, I didn’t sleep a wink. I also didn’t ask Harry about his lie, or the gun. I let its image sit there, in my mind, turning over and over. The cool silver glinted each time I closed my eyes, the branding of the snake tattoo appearing in the shadows of my room whenever I tried to open them. It even overpowered my jealousy of Viv.

I didn’t dream my nightmares that night. They were lucid.

Spindly creatures didn’t exist in this world, but I didn’t know which world was scarier anymore.

The attack on their home wasn’t something I could reconcile unless it was something personal. There were thousands of dollars worth of furniture, vases, and paintings - yet they stole a family portrait. Which, unless you were obsessed with stoic family poses, was neither a lucrative nor smart object to steal.

Was there a deeper connection?

A memory from that night crawled its way out of the crevices and smacked me in the face. I hadn’t realized I’d had it stored away, but suspicion had a funny way of bringing up memories.

That rainy night outside of Kean’s, I’d called for Harry when I’d walked out of the bathroom. Of course, it hadn’t been Harry.

But the stranger had said something that didn’t sit right.

Haven’t heard that name in a while.

Hadn’t heard that name in a while…

The sentence echoed over and over.

One way it could be explained - everyone had heard of the Styles. Maybe this was a threat, a warning that they’d hurt their family unless they coughed up some cash. Maybe there was no deeper connection. And if there was…

For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why the elite star boy of the beach community would be associated with rapist thugs.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said for the millionth time. “Stop asking me that.”

Harry’s eyes were red. He rubbed them, probably as sleep deprived as me.

I could tell he wanted to ask me again, but he took a sip of iced coffee instead. Maybe if he heard I’m okay again, this time he’d believe me.

I wouldn’t.

I watched his fingers toy with his lips while peers watched us sit outside Starbucks. They were probably concerned with midterms next week, unaware of the complete mess of thoughts churning my stomach and leaving my croissant half-eaten.

I pulled off a buttery flake. I missed the old me. The old me would’ve been the passing peer, and in any other alternate universe that was normal and made sense, I would be watching Harry sit with a sorority girl with perfectly curled hair as I stress ate 10 croissants and worried about how to cram-write a 15 page historical essay and study for a biology exam in 12 hours.

“You can come to mine tonight. It’s dead at the house until the weekend so it’ll be quiet to study.”

I nodded. The frat house... Maybe I could talk to him about it then. Here, in this coffee shop, he seemed like the frat star college student everyone knew him as. At night in his room, maybe I could reconcile this person with who I knew outside of campus, too. The boy who was soft, who hurt, who had an entire mystery of a life inside that mansion.

I’d accepted I was different than who I was before him. Was he different before me?

When he pulled at his lip again, he noticed me staring and a familiar gleam lit his eyes. He looked at me in a way that made my cheeks burn and my heart surge. Muscle memory was strong, and even though he was sitting across the table, I suddenly felt him pressed against me.

Maybe there was another reason he’d recommended the frat house.

My phone buzzed, giving me an excuse to look away. I checked the name, ignored it. He was looking at me again, observing, waiting for me to admit what was really going on in my mind when he must know what was bothering me… He just wasn’t brave enough to bring it up himself.

And I wasn’t ready to be the first.

“You know, I’m not always going to be so readily available for you. I’m a modelling girl now, my schedule’s filling up.” I threw a dramatic hand to my forehead and he fought a smile.

“S’that right?”

I nodded, and that’s when his brows pinched.

“Wait, are you really modelling?”

“Okay, gee, don’t look so surprised. A friend of mine needed a replacement model who had more ‘life.’ And I’m just full of that, so, it worked out.”

My phone vibrated again.

“Zayn?”

“No. It’s my mom...” Begging to get the details from that photo I’d sent her of Harry and I last night. I was too in awe of the decor, the gowns, and just being there to not share it with her. It’d actually been something I’d wanted to remember until it all went to shat.

“I meant your friend. Who’s the artist?”

“Oh, Zayn.”

“Oh.”

An awkward silence settle, and I picked at another buttery flake.

“I’m sure he’ll do an amazing job,” he said. But he looked away when he said it, and I heard the restraint in his tone.

“I don’t know why you don’t like him.”

“It’s not just me.” He leant back in his chair, stretching his arms back until the muscles flexed. “I never knew him until here, but because he’s from England s’just…” He shook his head. “Look, I don’t know how to explain it, I’m not trying to be a dick.”

Said every dick ever. But maybe I could overlook it.

“Tell me.”

“He just doesn’t give me good vibes.”

“How California of you.”

“I-” he stopped, sighed. He wrestled with the true answer he’d held all along, reluctantly giving it up. “He acts like he knows things about me. Like he knows who I am when I literally haven’t said a single word to him.”

“You don’t like how friendly he is?”

“It’s not a happy, familiar, I know you. S’like he looks at me and sees parts of me I don’t...”

“Show?”

The look in his eyes told me I was right, but he didn’t say it.

“Maybe he’s just intuitive,” I continued.

“Maybe he’s just fucking weird.”

“Harry…”

He shrugged, unapologetic, and drew a long sip from the black coffee. For the boy who had a beautifully deceitful exterior hiding a million layers he never let anyone see, it must have taken a lot for someone to get under his skin.

Was the thought of being seen that terrifying?

“Shit, I have practice.”

I nodded, not as disappointed as I thought I’d be. I had a lot on my plate today. Biology papers, work, stopping by the studio…

I stood up a little after him.

“Thanks for the croissant, and the tea.”

“Of course,” he said.

We walked out in silence, and I wonder if he was as lost in thought as I was. Before we parted, he turned to me.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

I popped a hip, putting on my best tough-girl act.

“I-” I stopped, sighed. The tough-girl acted lasted a whole whopping two seconds as I debated on telling him the truth I’d been hiding. I knew he was genuinely concerned, and I knew that if I didn’t fess up this was going to keep bothering him. Just like him, I caved. “Not really.”

“I knew it.” - he looked away, tugging at his hair before letting his hand fall - “I swear, you don’t have anything to worry about.”

But there was a slight desperation to his voice, and I wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince.

I nodded anyway. I didn’t realize I’d been looking at the ground until he leaned lower, trying to meet my eyes.

“I’ll see you later?”

“Later,” I affirmed.

He punched my shoulder lightly, and it took everything in me not to literally guffaw. Had he really just-? Again???

Lighter fluid of pure annoyance fueled an angry fire in my eyes. But he didn’t flinch; nothing about him seemed apologetic for the action.

Last night his hands touched me very differently.

Last night, he wasn’t a buddy who shoulder punched me.

Did something change again in the blink of an eye? Then again, his unpredictability was becoming predictable. And a lot could change overnight. I certainly hadn’t been filled with this sick foreign confusion yesterday.

And if this confusion was actually suspicion, I didn’t even know of what.

I didn’t hesitate to walk away, hoping that leaving so abruptly would be a GIANT NEON SIGN that he’d just done something wrong, knowing that even if it would, one of his thousand stubborn layers would never bring him to acknowledge it.

------

A waft of Chinese food overpowered the smell of humid sweat for a moment and it wasn’t as disgusting as I thought it’d be. In fact, my stomach growled in response.

I saw his glistening smile before the takeout bag. He came over to where I was sanitizing the examination table and sat down, wincing when he realized it was still wet. He held up the bag, and the smell of orange chicken was stronger.

“For you.”

He waggled his eyebrows.

And for the first time in what felt like a long time, I smiled.

“Shut. Up.”

Seconds later, Matt was laying on his back in the chair, and I’d set the Chinese aside for the foam roller. I leaned against it with all my weight as I rotated it upwards, soothing the tense muscles in his back.

“You really don’t have to do this everytime you come in, I’m starting to feel bad,” I said with a mouthful of chicken. Though really, it didn’t make me feel bad at all. Some of my distressing confusion actually lifted with his presence. Or maybe it was the thought of free food.

“You have to smell other people’s sweat and deal with bloody injuries at least once a week. I don’t think I’m the one you should be feeling bad for...”

He sucked in a breath through his teeth as I hit a particularly tender spot.

I bit my cheek, trying so very hard not to laugh at how brutally accurate it all was.

“Alright, if you’re gonna talk like that you can bring me a steak dinner next time.”

“I’m not so sure that’s a takeout thing.”

“Yeah, yeah, get out of it how you can.”

He struggled for the Chinese box and held up a spoonful of chowmein behind his back. I moved up just enough where I could clamp my mouth around it.

I placed extra pressure by his shoulder blade and he drew in a breath. “Sweet...torture…” he squeaked.

“You don’t have to put up with my torture anymore,” I said, rolling back down. I was sweating. Forget going to the gym, this was exercise enough.

“It’s not torture! It’s- you’re fine.” An awkward apology came stumbling out. “It just hurts in the moment, but it’s a good pain.”

“No, I mean…” For some reason, it felt weird admitting this to him. “I’m not going to be working here much longer. This week’s my last week here.”

His muscles tensed a little, and I slowed my roll. Literally.

“Oh, really? Why? Did you get fired?”

“Noo, nothing like that. I actually got an internship.”

There was silence as I worked his lower back. I focused harder on the way the foam roller pushed against the muscle, building and pinching, til it finally rolled over.

I knew I’d still see him around. Less, that’s for sure. But still… around. I stopped, grabbing some ice packs for his calf muscles, ignoring the fact that he still hadn’t said anything.

“Where’s it at?” he asked after a solid minute of silence.

“Coast Shores Medicine.”

“The one on TV?”

“That’s the one.” One Google search and the practice had popped up, along with its link to the reality show Housewives of OC. I remembered Ben telling me Mary Styles used to be a housewife and the notoriety that surrounded the Styles name surprised me less and less.

“That’s going to be different.”

I let out a short laugh. “Yeah, but it won’t be too bad.”

Matt, always a bundle of optimism didn’t hesitate to say, “It’ll look great on your resume.”

And there it was, the real reason behind this. The whole reason behind anything we did. Something else for the resume, something else for a piece of paper, something else to belong, something else to make another approve of my life’s existence. But-

“Yeah. It’ll be fun,” I said, strapping the ice packs down.

“Bet no one’s gonna bring you takeout though.”

I heard the smile in his voice, and when he looked over his shoulder, there it was. All gleaming white teeth and shining blue eyes.

And for a second, I wanted to take it all back. To say I was kidding. To stay here. To not change another part of my life that seemed to be turning into something I wasn’t quite sure I wanted it to be.

“You’re going to do great,” he said, somehow knowing what I needed to hear without me uttering a word.

Maybe if our families hadn’t been tied since birth, it would have been different for us. Maybe he would’ve been bringing me spring rolls to my dorm room and I would’ve been in Matt’s dad’s shop, helping where I could.

Maybe I should stop overthinking everything and just accept everything as it was and stop thinking of parallel universes.

Maybe, maybe, maybe...

I wanted to give him a definite response. I wanted to say, I would be okay because I know I would be okay.

But the largest part of me didn’t know what the future held, and somehow I still needed to be okay with that.

----------------

The frat house looked a lot different than the last time I’d been there. I could hardly believe that it was the same place.

The lawn wasn’t littered with people swaying, confessing embarrassing things to acquaintances they’d pretend not to know the next day in History class. The yard was vacant - except for two boys with hats hung low with trash collecting picks, looking like they’d just suffered from a major night out. They didn’t even look up when I passed.

Bits of the paint were chipping off the door, and my booties stuck to the pavement that’d accumulated a healthy layer of spilled beer.

I knocked, but nobody answered, so I walked in anyways. I was actually more nervous than if the living room had been full with bodies pressed together. I was alone, nobody to hide from, the impending conversation looming in my mind. The dance floor was back to looking like a living room. Two couches with suspicious stains were haphazardly placed to create space for a table - a bong as the centerpiece and ashes in place of a tablecloth.

It was so different from his sparkling mansion. The frat house was clearly lived in, but I wonder if he really felt at home here.

“Hello?” I creeped up the stairs, but nobody walked out. An open window carried in the sound of students walking to their next class. Had I gotten the time wrong?? It was too quiet. Without warning, my nightmares blended into the frat house. No one was here. My feet moved faster, faster, carrying me towards the room.

I gasped when I saw him standing outside his door. “Shit.”

His lips quirked into a half-smile. “You okay?”

I looked at him casually leaning against the door in his joggers, breathless. It was pointless acknowledging the question.

Compared to the rest of the house, Harry’s room looked pristine. Madame Bovary and his English notes were already sprawled across his creaseless bedspread, but he pulled at the corner of it anyways while I sat at his desk. I swiped my finger along the top, lips curling at the layer of dust on it.

“I go to the library.”

“Mhm.”

He tugged at his t-shirt collar, mildly clearing his throat. “Not sure where you want to start.”

I nodded.

“There’s a lot to cover.” He lowered his head, looking over the bridge of his nose, that silly masked smile toying on his lips - but just like a mask, it didn’t hide his eyes. They were redder than before, and I almost felt bad at how tired he must be.

It looked like I wasn’t the only one who didn’t get any sleep.

He toyed with the bedsheet again, and I realized I hadn’t said anything.

“There is a lot to cover.” My heart beat faster, and I had no idea how to bring up the gun. Would he be angry with me for snooping? Was it wrong of me to have done so? But then again, why the heck had he locked me in the room? “Where do you want to start?”

He paused, just like I had. A thousand possibilities rushing through my mind,

but he lifted up the book,

and I wilted.

You would think it’d be hard to study an entire half-semester’s worth of work for a class that met three times a week and a professor that filled up at least five pages of notes per session. But with enough willpower to avoid silence, Harry and I managed to study nearly all of it.

Which, to help clarify just how much of a task it was, the only study guide we’d been given were seven sample essay questions - three of which were to be written in class after the short answer portion.

We’d jotted notes down of themes, character developments (and lack thereof), and pretty much exhausted the entire book cover to cover. Which, was especially hard to do, being that close to a sex god and all. Even more especially, when that sex god had almost had his fingers inside of me less than a day ago.

If I was antsy to talk about the masquerade ball before, exhaustion made me question whether or not it was even worth it. The sun had long past set, and the soft glow from Harry’s lamp cast a dreamy hue to the room that made my eyes strain to make anything out. He was unreal as a human anyways, add exhaustion and mood lighting to the mix and it’s like the gods just cast him out of heaven.

Given my frazzled bun and hoodie with a hole near the armpit, one could say I found this to be completely unfair.

I set my pen down as soon as my stomach growled.

“Shit,” Harry suddenly leapt up, bounding out the door. He stopped just before he disappeared and craned his neck back. “I’ll just be a minute.”

“Uh, okay,” I let out a nervous laugh, but he’d already walked away. I leant back in the chair; it felt nice to be alone in his room. A little weird, but nice.

My fingers thrummed on the desk. They stopped when I saw what was on the top shelf. Did he take these from Mary?

I reached for them without thinking, turning them over in my hand. The little white tablets shook together as I tried to find a label for them.

Who needed this many?

I suddenly became aware of a frozen frame behind me.

He didn’t stop me from reading them, but I turned, embarrassed for snooping. He’d stepped closer, and I could feel the heat rolling off his body, the chiseled chest hidden behind a black sweater just a book’s width away. Any thoughts I had became mush. Too close, too-

my ankle hit the desk when I stepped back. “I’m sorry. I was just… I was just curious.” There was a sad acceptance in his eyes when he nodded. It was so soft, I wondered if I’d imagined it. “Do you struggle with sleeping?” I asked, tone void of teasing.

“Kind of.” Careful eyes searched mine for a reaction. Even with his desk lamp, his green eyes were dark, a thick forest that didn’t let in the light.

Xanax and Valium were serious sleeping pill. When my hippie aunt would come back from one of her many trips from Mexico, she’d bring Valium back by the bucketful (selling the pills as well as her psychic services). My dad bought from her, but even she cautioned him about the intensity of it. I didn’t recognize the other label, but I was assuming it was equally strong, if not more so.

I bit the inside of my cheek.

“I don’t really take them anymore,” he clarified.

“You used to?” Frick. A tad too much curiosity there. Could’ve come off as judgey.

Harry stared off into somewhere behind me, my question triggering memories I’m not sure I’d like to see. “A lot of people take them anyway,” he said, coming back to me.

“Really?” My back arched as I tried to create more space between us.

He leaned forward, placing his hands on the desk on either side of me. His body moved slowly, but deliberately. Each calculated movement seemed second-nature to him. He nodded. “Sure. Want to see Niall’s desk?”

The last time I was in Niall’s room… my cheeks flushed remembering our kiss. It was so long ago, such a stupid rash decision. But it was ages before Harry and I started… hanging out more frequently so I couldn’t blame myself for doing anything wrong. Still, if Renny ever found out I had “once upon a time” kissed her newfound obsession and that I never told her about it, I’d rather invest in a wig and move to Canada.

Renny once delivered a package of literal dog shit to a girl who slid into her “once upon a time” friends with benefits’ dms.

I shook my head quickly. “I mean I get nightmares all the time, I get why people take them.”

“You have nightmares?”

I bristled a bit. “Yeah, doesn’t everybody?”

“Not the kind that require sleeping pills.” His head tilted back, an elitist of pain.

“But a lot of people take them.” I spat his own words back to him, my biting tone not lost on Harry.

“Ah, ah,” he chided. He pulled in a cheek, accentuating angled cheekbones. “That’s not why everybody takes them.”

“Well if it helps nightmares-” I mockingly twisted the cap between us until it “popped” but he snatched it from me. His hand took the place of the bottle, shooting an electric bolt up my arm. Leaning back against the desk, my legs stood between his, unable to take me away from his stone-cold stare.

“You’re not getting them from me Y/N.”

“I was teasing,” I said, not moving my hand. “I wasn’t going to take any.”

His calculated eyes searched mine for any hint of pill-popping desire, but I couldn’t handle the intensity.

My eyes shot behind him. When I saw what was on the bed, I snorted. I couldn’t help it. In the grave intensity of the moment, I snorted. My hand flew to my nose. “Oh my gosh, are you serious?” I gestured to the plate atop his sheets.

He backed up, tugging me with him. My heart fluttered, but he let go and stood back, crossing his arms instead. From the corner of my eye, I saw his feet scuff the flooring, suddenly unsure of his gesture. “You said you were hungry.”

My side-smirk grew into a full beaming smile. I sat down on his bed, picking up the fork that was beside it. I debated about which spot would be the best to dive into. “Is this chocolate lava cake?”

He’d only brought one fork. So… maybe I didn’t have to be to be conservative with my bites... He watched me shovel almost half the cake into my mouth with one bite. I moaned, not even embarrassed as a dribble of chocolate escaped my mouth. I moaned AGAIN, completely shameless, and fell back on his bed. Somehow, the experience of chocolate in Harry’s bed made it taste all the more delicious. “Ughhh dishh ishh amashhinnn!!”

A breathy childish laugh escaped Harry, and it was so beautiful, I almost froze mid-swallow. He bit his lip, aware that the sound escaped him, but with no one else to observe it, he didn’t care.

“I don’t … want you missing out on things because of me.”

“What do you mean?” I took another bite of the lava cake, letting the moist chocolate fudge slowly cover my tastebuds.

“Exactly what I said.”

The image of me running away from my pricey dessert at The Hilltop Resort flashed in my mind. I’d ran away from Harry that night because I saw him as a pretentious douchebag who thought money could get him any girl he wanted. He looked the same, and still had more money than I could comprehend, but stood before me now was a completely different person than the one I thought I knew.

Harry could turn cold and distant in the blink of an eye, abandon me in photos and leave me feeling unwanted and embarrassed. But he could place an arm around my waist, remember the smallest details about me, and make a gesture that showed how thoughtful he could be. It was … infuriating. Unfair. Predictably unpredictable.

I don’t want you missing out on things because of me.

I hadn’t gotten to eat chocolate lava cake that night. Yet here it was, burning on the bed between us.

“I think I’m experiencing more things now that I know you actually,” I swallowed slowly, the thick chocolatey goodness not the only thing melting.

“I’m sure,” he said slyly. He reached down then, hand gently wiping a stray bit of chocolate on my chin.

“Oops,” I laughed, enjoying this rare moment of levity.

He licked his own finger clean, eyes fluttering dramatically. “S’damn good innit.” The bed dipped as he sat beside me, eyes never leaving my ridiculous smile. I had a feeling he was etching it to memory as he pulled my legs atop his lap like it was something we always did. Somehow, it kind of felt like it was.

“So…”

“Sho,” I mimicked, mouth still full of chocolate. My chewing suddenly seemed quite loud in the silence, and I cringed as I swallowed. There weren’t any napkins to be had… anywhere. With one bite left, I held it up to Harry to distract him from the chocolatey mess that was probably my face. He leant forward, eyes on mine as his full lips took the bite. I gulped again, but this time it had nothing to do with the fact that I had chocolate in my mouth.

His strong hands pulled my legs closer ‘til I was practically in his lap, and my heart beat wildly against my ribs like caged finches smelling smoke. Traces of him - spice, warmth, and an undertone of rich cologne overpowered the chocolate, overpowered everything.

“Pulling me in for a shoulder punch?”

He frowned, and I spotted a fleck of chocolate at the corner of his mouth. I swiped my finger along his pout, placing the stray chocolate in my mouth. Instead of mirroring my smile, his brows furrowed and he became a child as he leant his forehead against mine. “What are you doing to me.”

I stood still, scared that if I moved, whatever spell that’d been cast in his mind would break.

“Nothing you don’t do to me.”

There it was. An admittance. An offering. And like all the times before, I didn’t expect him to take it.

Foreheads still drawn together, his jaw jutted closer in temptation. He winced, pulled back.

It was the push before the give.

“We didn’t finish the last question on the study guide,” he murmured, but his hand spread to the small of my back. Heat swept through me, but I shivered at his touch.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mm,” he hummed. He leaned closer to peer at something over my shoulder and I swear my heart stopped as our chests touched. His hand stayed on my back, steadying me as he searched for whatever it was. I could feel his curls at the base of my jaw, and the warmth from his cheek so close to touching mine...

“What’s your favorite quote from the book?” He pulled back, looking at me as though the next words I’d say would be his favorite too.

But my brain was heavy, overworked. “I don’t know.” I rest my head on his shoulder for the briefest of moments before pulling myself up.

His hands squeezed my sides. “M’serious, you might have to write an essay on your favorite quote. S’question seven.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but shook my head instead. “I’m serious, I don’t have one memorized. Do you?”

A cocky little smirk appeared on his face. “Of course.”

“Of course,” I sighed. “Who’s tutoring who here?”

“What, you don’t want to hear it?”

“Oh no, I do, I’m desperate for it,” I leant forward teasingly, more pressure applied to my hips.

He drew in a breath, screwing his eyes shut tight for a second. When they opened, they were a raging emerald green. “Careful.” Then, with all the nonchalance in the world, he rumbled, “She thought love must come suddenly, with great outburst and lightnings – a hurricane of the skies, which falls upon life, revolutionizing it, roots up the will like a leaf, and sweeps the whole heart into the abyss.”

It took me a moment to realize that he was speaking from the book. He waited for a response, but any words I had flew out my mind somewhere between lightnings and abyss.

“Not bad is it?” he said.

This was his favorite quote? Coming from a boy who didn’t believe love could last?

“Harry…”

I didn’t know what I was going to say, but I didn’t need to figure it out. Voices rose from downstairs. I figured it was just the frat brothers, but Harry’s dreamy gaze cooled to calculation in an instant. My legs were moved to the comforter and he walked straight to the door, peering his head through the crack. He shut it gently, beckoned to me.

“The cops are here. They probably just want me to answer a few questions,” he said lowly.

“Really?!”

I tried opening the door, but he spun me around. He pressed me against the wall, and for a brief moment I felt all of him. His hand snaked around my waist, and his lips dipped down to my ear.

“I’ll be right back.”

His entire body alit mine,

And then he was gone.

I’d been poured in gasoline but he didn’t stop to light the match.

Too many times this week I’ve been left reeling, breathless, and a little too turned on in an empty room by one infuriating frat boy.

He was causing too much damage to be so small in the retrospect of the universe.

I opened the door, softly, slowly. Three cops and two college admins were searching the place. While two spoke with Harry, another strayed from the group. He strolled around the floor, assessing the damage of parties past.

I couldn’t make out everything, their voices too indistinct from a story away. Harry shook hands with the cops. One of them didn’t extend his, and Harry shoved it away in his back pocket.

That was rude of them.

Words were exchanged, but “charity” and “affiliation” were the only words I caught. The cops’ postures seemed relaxed enough, but their crossed arms and poker faces told me careful observations were in place. Was I going to be left here as they drove away for questioning? If this was about the charity ball, was Harry going to tell them any more of what happened? I’d seen that wild look in Gemma’s eyes, the way he’d leapt to his feet as soon as he saw it. He had to know more than what he’d shared.

They passed Harry a paper I couldn’t make out, and his back tensed. The cops were in front of him though, so I doubted they noticed, but Rogue Cop walked closer to the stairs. Harry mentioned “familiar” - or was it “not familiar?” I couldn’t hear. The paper was passed back. More arms were crossed. Rogue Cop kept floating around, looking for something. Or someone?

As if he knew, Rogue Cop’s eyes found the slit in the door, locking eyes with mine.

I jumped away, adrenaline pumping when there was no reason for me to be nervous. My inner me threw up her arms, waving the white flag - I DIDN’T KILL ANYBODY! I’M INNOCENT!

But a sinking feeling slammed her with a bus.

I wasn’t completely innocent.

I’d seen the snake tattoo before. I’d recognized it in the Styles’ home. I’d had it threaten my life, heard it recognize Harry.

I’d never reported it. What would they think if I mentioned it now? Would I mention it now?

And now did he think I was hiding?

I picked up the study guide to busy my hands.

A knock on the door.

“You can come in!”

He opened it, at first cautiously, but when he saw it was just a girl with some textbooks, his shoulders squared away.

“Do you live here, miss?”

“No-” I placed the study guide in my lap. “Is everything okay?”

“That’s what we’re here to find out. I’d just like to ask you a few questions if that’s alright with you.”

“Of course.”

The sound of rushed footsteps coming up the hall made me glance to the door. Moments later, the faculty woman and another cop filed in. They smiled at me, easing my nerves in the slightest.

“I’d like you to take a look at this. Have you seen this sign anywhere around campus?”

The mysterious paper was placed in my hands. The bold image of the snake, fangs bared to the world, hissed at me through the sheet. A somber confirmation settled in my skin, my bones suddenly heavier. The outside chaos was being brought into the safety of university. My world off campus and my world here were colliding, as were Harry’s, and with the collision I didn’t know if a universe was being created or destroyed.

“No. Not on campus.”

That wasn’t a lie, technically. But Rogue Cop picked up on my specificity.

“Have you seen this anywhere else?”

“Yeah, in town.”

“Where?”

I cleared my throat. “Outside of a coffee shop downtown. It’s a small place. Kean’s.”

The door creaked open wider, and Harry stood at the frame. His eyes met mine as soon as I said Keans.

“Was it tagged? On the walls, on a jacket?” Rogue Cop’s eyes narrowed as he watched me gulp. I shoved my hands in my pockets, but there was something in there. My fingers twiddled with a cap when I realized it was a pill bottle.

“No, I can’t, uh, I can’t remember. It was a long time ago.”

Rogue Cop followed my gaze to Harry leaning against the wall. He wrote down my name, phone number, and e-mail.

“We’ll be in touch.”

A card was slipped into my hand and they thanked us for our cooperation. The commotion I’d been foolish to forget about just because of a chocolate distraction had just slapped me in the face with a badge attached.

The presence the cops created left a vacuum of space Harry couldn’t fill. Alone again, he seemed smaller, like a child thrown in adult clothing. His hands covered his eyes at the foot of the bed as he sunk further into himself. This was a side of Harry I think I could have lived forever without seeing. This was a boy completely overwhelmed.

When he looked up, his strained eyes weren’t glossy. They were unnervingly vacant.

I pulled my sweatshirt sleeves over my hands. “Do you think I should tell them about Kean’s? Do you think it’d help?”

He shrugged. “That’s completely up to you. But if you do, don’t mention me.”

“You want me to lie?”

“Yes.”

“Why don’t you want them to know? Are you scared of them?”

“I’m not scared of them,” he scoffed. “They already know what gang they’re affiliated with.”

Gang...

“And what gang is that?”

Reluctance filled his eyes. “An ugly one. Unimpressive, but ugly.”

“What do you mean unimpressive?”

“They’re rash, messy. They’re like bullies on the playground. They always get caught by the supervisor.”

“Harry…”

His eyes shot to mine, brows stitched.

I took a breath. “Outside of Kean’s… the guys who- you know… they said something that made me think they knew you. Or, at least had heard about you.”

Nothing changed on his face. No flash of fear, sadness, embarrassment. Nothing.

“Are you safe?” I pressed. “Why are they targeting you? Or is it your parents?”

His gaze softened. “I don’t want you worrying about me.”

A short humorous laugh ripped itself from my throat. “Too late.” I reached in my pocket and held the anonymous pill bottle between us, our moment against the door cheapened. “And why’d you slip this in my pocket?”

He reached his hand out to take it, but I lifted my hand higher. I was getting no answers from this boy, the cops flippin took my information tonight and who knew when they’d be dropping in on me, and I was sick of it!!

He exhaled, only slightly amused. “Fine. It’s something new. Not on the market, officially.”

“...so it’s illegal.”

“Experimental,” he offered.

“But you didn’t want them seeing it.”

Any inklings of humor slipped from his eyes. “Clearly.”

“Fine.” I tossed him the bottle. Clearly, I’d hit a sore spot.

“Have you ever done hard drugs?”

I ignored the slow way he spoke, making each word sound like a sultry invitation. “No.”

“Would you ever try?”

I opened my mouth, not sure why I was suddenly so thrown off. It wasn’t the weirdest question to be asked on a college campus, but coming from Harry in his quiet bedroom it sounded like a loaded question. And a deflection.

“I don’t think so…”

“They’re not all bad. For shrooms you’d preferably be in a peaceful environment, and just with people you trust.” He threw his hands up. “S’only if ever wanted to try. I’m not saying you have to or anythin’, obviously.”

A prick of nausea filled my stomach. Somehow, without trying or saying anything directly, he managed to make me feel so grossly naive. “Yeah I’m good for now, thanks.” Miraculously, I managed to not roll my eyes.

He sensed the shift in mood, the air filling with an awkward tension. He bit his lip.

“Listen, I want you to feel like you can tell me anything.”

I nodded, but fought the feeling that he was only saying this because he didn’t want me confiding in the cops. A “you can’t tell them, but hey tell it all to me!” consolation.

Besides, did he really feel like he could tell me anything? I knew he didn’t let people beneath his shell, that he hid a heart with more guards and walls than fort knox, and I knew in my core that he’d let me in a little deeper than others. But I also knew that no matter how I deep I was now, I still wasn’t deep enough for him to trust me. I didn’t know if I could ever get there.

I gently kicked his shin with my sneaker. “Okay, well, for starters I’m going to have nightmares about being interrogated tonight.” It was a half-joke, because the only nightmares I had now involved me, trapped in an empty house, running towards something I couldn’t name with bodiless entities watching me and the flash of a knife.

You know, just girly things.

“Did you always have nightmares? Or-” his lips quirked, hand rubbing the back of his neck. Could he say the unmentionable? That I had nightmares because of him? “-is this a recent development?”

“I found a gun in your drawers Harry.”

He bit his tongue, jaw clicking with restraint. “Why were you-?”

“Because you locked me in your room! Why’d you do that, huh?!” My hands were trembling. The words had flown out before I could stop them, but there was no going back. “What normal person locks another person in their room?”

He flinched at normal. “I only did that because it was safer.”

I glared at him harder until he shifted his weight.

“I can see why you’d be upset,” he admitted.

“How would you know if it was safer? What aren’t you telling me, Harry, because I don’t know much of anything and it is driving me insane.”

I spared him details - that I looked over my shoulder every thirty seconds, that I stopped going to my tutoring sessions because they were held after dark across campus - but insane pretty much summed it up.

He saw the wild in my eyes, and his shoulders fell. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’ve said that before.”

“I know. I-” he paused, hollowed eyes not meeting my own. “This is difficult for me, try to understand.” He stopped, then tried again. “I’m familiar with the guys who assaulted you outside of Kean’s okay? But they got violent, and I disassociated. They hold a grudge.”

“How did you know them?”

“I think it’s best if you don’t know.” Harry swallowed thickly, tilting his head back, eyes closed, probably wondering if he leant far enough if he’d disappear.

“Do you think they were the ones at your house?”

“I don’t know. It’s a possibility.”

“Does anybody else know about any of this?”

His phone buzzed and he reached for it, relief from this unexpected interrogation. He placed it down, but it buzzed again, then again. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You can answer it.”

“Can you come here already?”

It was quiet, but I’d heard it. His lashes fluttered, and I stilled at how drained he looked. For a brief moment, I’d forgotten this was affecting Harry, too. The parts of his life I barely knew stressed me out enough to give me continuous nightmares, but how much more was he living?

I stepped between his legs, deciding to give him rest instead. It was a sad picture, he and I, how entirely spent we both were.

“I don’t know about you, boy...”

I tried to calm the pounding of my heart as he pulled me in close, arms wrapping around my waist, head pressing against my chest. “Me neither.”

I stilled, not quite knowing what to do or what to say, until I let my head rest atop perfectly mussed curls.

Gangs were dangerous.

Guns were dangerous.

Drugs were dangerous.

Frat boys were dangerous.

But this?

This feeling that bubbled up inside when his thumbs rubbed circles in the soft skin of my hip?

This was dangerous, too.

I didn’t know why we couldn’t be like this in public.

I didn’t know what Harry was burdened with or why it seemed to be so much.

His phone lit-up with 2 missed calls and 8 messages - Viv.

And I didn’t know who else had seen behind the mask.

part 15

#harry styles fanfiction #Harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles #harry styles fan fiction #one direction #frat boy #onedirection #1direction #1d #one direction fanfiction #one direction imagine #harry styles au #fratboy! harry #dark harry styles #harry styles imagine #one direction one shot #harry styles smut #angst

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rosentm · 5 years ago

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helllooo ! PHEW this took me a hot MINUTE to write out but i’m finally done . i’m sam , your local dark academia & stevie nicks trash , and i bring forth my favorite Musical Theater Son Ari !! i have literally been on a straight up show tunes kick ever since binge watching the politican ( which isn’t even a musical just BEN PLATT ) and thus , enough about me , i present to you the real star of the show ... !!

INTRODUCING ...

did you hear how ARIEL ROSEN is applying to columbia university as a MUSICAL THEATER major ?! the TWENTY-TWO year old is living in the CARLTON ARMS. i heard that they got in because they are AMBITIOUS and FERVENT, but honestly i think HE can be INSECURE and COMPLIANT. they’re a real THESPIAN. oh well, only time will tell if the SENIOR will make it til the end.

full name : ariel nathaniel rosen ( it’s pronounced AHHH REE ELLE not AIR ree elle GET IT RIGHT or don’t talk to him )

nickname : ari , like ah - ree , and exclusively goes as such

birthday : september 30, 1997

zodiac : libra sun , aquarius moon , leo rising

nationality : american

ethnicity : jewish

religion : jewish

sexual & romantic orientation : bisexual , biromantic

hometown : los angeles , california

languages spoken : english

aesthetics : bright stage lights, secret playlists, the swish of a soccer ball catching net, black american express cards, muddy soccer cleats, old money

dream roles : guy ( once ) & emcee ( cabaret )

character parallels : troy bolton ( high school musical ) , nate archibald ( gossip girl ) , austin ames ( a cinderella story ) , neil perry ( dead poets society ) , andrew ( the breakfast club ) , pink ( dazed and confused )

background info !

born and raised in sunny los angeles , beverly hills to be exact

both his parents are in the entertainment business , his father is the ceo of a production company ( think warner brothers ) and his mom is a hot shot producer at the same company

he’s the youngest of three , with two older sisters , and greatness was always expected of the rosens . his eldest sister , lila , has just passed the california bar exam on her first try and is now working in entertainment law in los angeles . the middle child , ilana , is in grad school and studying to become a pediatric surgeon . and then there’s ariel .

ari was a good kid . in high school he was captain of the soccer team and was really really talented at the sport , he tutored underprivileged kids on tuesdays , had a high school sweetheart that his parents loved . he was beloved by the student body , he’d walk into a party and every guy would give him a high five , every girl would say hello . only he was hiding this huge secret that he felt like he couldn’t tell anybody .

he was a THEATER NERD . while out loud he would blast brockhampton & kendrick , if you took a look at his playlists you’d find endless amounts of show tunes . not that he’d ever tell anyone ! his parents may be in the biz , but it was strictly corporate . neither of them spared any time for the arts , at least not where their kids were concerned

he was the golden child , the only son , the baby boy . his mom totally coddled him and his dad had huge expectations for him . they were both thrilled when he received his acceptance letter from columbia , which happened to be the school his sister ilana was attending at the time . he got into the business school , where he would major in business and minor in economics & entertainment management whilst playing as center midfielder on the men’s soccer team

his first year and a half at columbia were swamped with late night studying , internships with major companies thanks to his dad’s hook ups , soccer practice and essentially no time for social life ( although being in a frat like delta psi helped out on that front , as even when he didn’t want to go out , they brought the party home )

but in the middle of his sophomore year he did something entirely brave ! he auditioned for a musical . an amateur production , neither a part of the school nor on broadway , but he landed the role and told virtually nobody , not even his friends .

at the end of his sophomore year , after the production had run its course , he took the leap , auditioning for columbia’s theater program . it was a huge shot in the dark , seeing as he’d already finished two years of undergrad as a business major , but shockingly ... he got in .

okay , not that shockingly . even without formal training , anybody could see the potential in ari when he gets on stage . the voice he’s got in him is undeniable , and acting just comes naturally . despite his somewhat timid personality , he takes the stage by storm every time . also , his last name carries some weight at the university , but that’s besides the point .

it’s been two years now since he switched majors and he’s been so much happier , though he has yet to tell his parents . he’s not sure when he’ll get around to that but it’ll certainly be later rather than sooner

personality !

ari is the nice guy . very much the “ lovable jock ” trope , he’s pretty soft . you could step all over him and he’d probably apologize to you tbh

that being said he’s got a winner’s drive , he’s an athlete after all , and can be incredibly determined when he wants to be

v smart , probably should have been in omega chi delta , but his jock reputation preceded him and plus , he likes drinking too much

he’s really not very flirty because he can be kind of shy ?? but get a few shots in him and he’ll talk you up ok

i feel like i’m missing some stuff but anyway ?? HERE is his pinterest board !

wanted connections !

best friend — probably a frat brother , PLEASE give me a bromance

platonic soulmate — the best friend , the gal , the one that everyone asks “ are you guys a couple ? ” to which they both disgustedly respond “ NO ! ” wren

freshman fling — i say fling but that was just for alliteration , it was probably a whole ass relationship . you see , ari came to columbia still dating his high school sweetheart , they were gonna do long distance , but this was the person that made him realize that there was so much more to the world he had to see and experience before committing to a girl he met at thirteen . they could’ve ended amicably or not !

teammates — WHAT TEAM ? LIONS ! WHAT TEAM ? LIONS ! LIONS ! GETCHA HEAD IN THE GAME !!! ok basically just soccer bois like give em to me if you’ve got ‘em . ari is a starting center mid and ?? i’m thinking team captain since he’s a senior now but

billionaire boys club — ok not just boys but give me all the rich kid plots like going out shopping for the day on the upper east side , dropping a thousand on a table at an exclusive club , jetting off to europe for the weekend . we have to stan

ex girlfriend — welp i have an hc that ari dated a girl for at least half of sophomore and all of junior year because he’s definitely a fully committal , all in kind of guy ( so it would’ve been a recent break up ) , but they broke up and we can figure out the details of why let’s get this angst nellie

secret hook up — it’s 2019 ari !!!! GAY IS OK . anyways this kiddo has completely come to terms with his sexuality he just doesn’t feel like his parents ever will . they kind of have his whole life planned out and a huge chunk of that is marrying a #NiceJewishGirl soooo ! this can be secret in the sense that ari doesn’t plan on telling his parents but they aren’t secretive about it at school , or it can be entirely secret idc ! soleil

theater friends — as a drama kid ... the freaking bond between your cast mates and the crew ?!?! phew ... gimme these bonds !!! also would love a plot where they were cast as romantic interests and had to spend the semester making out during rehearsals

business & econ major pals — ari spent his first two years at columbia in the business school , so i imagine a lot of his earliest friends were met through that ! mayhaps one of them was the earliest person he confided in about not actually wanting to do business

grad school friends — idk if any muses are grad school students but ! ari’s older sister ilana ( i might end up erasing her name and major and make her a wanted connection IDK I’LL SEE HOW I FEEL ) is 2 years older and went to columbia for undergrad , so i imagine when he was a freshman she introduced him to a lot of her friends ! so if any grad school muses also went to undergrad at columbia mayhaps they knew ari’s sister and yada yada ok this one was a loose connection but an attempt was made

#columbia.intro #wipes forehead #I spent Way Too Much time on that !#gimme a like and i'll slide into your dms tho :~)

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masxndarchive · 5 years ago

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chace crawford, thirty, male, he/him ] ━ did y'all see [ mason duchanne ] walkin’ into [ the watering can? ] they’ve lived in frostford for [ thirty years, ] and you can catch ‘em around town working as an [ ER doctor ]. I reckon they’re pretty [ intelligent & trustworthy ] but I hear they can also be kinda [ reclusive & moody. ] if ya see ‘em around, be sure to say hi. ━

hi everyone! i’m sunny and i’m super excited to be here. This is my ER doc Mason! He’s super moody and doesn’t love to get out much, but he has a heart of literal gold and just wants to take care of the whole world. i have a wanted connection for his sisters up, so if you’re looking for new characters pls bring him the rest of the duchanne siblings! tw: death, sliiiight alcoholism and drug mentions?

Being the oldest kid was always tough, but being the oldest with four younger sisters? Well, Mason had his work cut out for him from the start. Growing up, he had always been the caretaker. Someone scraped their knee? He was there with the bandaid. Someone was throwing a fit? He would be the one to calm them down. His parents did their best on their own, but with both of them working full time, and such a doting oldest son - it wasn’t long until more responsibilities began weighing on the young boy’s shoulders. Of course, he didn’t mind making his sister’s lunches or making sure they got to school in the morning. He didn’t mind giving up on sleepovers and football games all throughout middle school to babysit on the weekends - as long as he could make sure his sisters’ were okay, then he would be okay too.

It wasn’t until he was in high school - hormones raging, and rebellion growing within him - that he began to crave his own path. He was always there to lend a helping hand, always there to defend his sisters when they needed him. But for the first time in his life he began to realize that only ever being acknowledged for taking care of his sisters wasn’t enough for him. By the end of his freshman year, he was already on the baseball team, the football team - the president of his class, and well on the way to snagging the nomination for sophomore class president in the coming year. He worked harder than he had ever worked before to keep his grades up, but it wasn’t enough to outshine the torch that his parents would always hold for his younger sisters. He didn’t resent the girls - he never could - but he would be lying if he said he hadn’t felt the slightest bit jealous of the attention that they got.

When it came time to choose his fate - where to go to college, what to do with his life - the wishes of his family was nearly enough to keep him home in Alabama. But the pull of the city was too tempting for the southern boy, and before he knew it, he was off to Berkeley, California to study medicine. Mason missed his sisters more than anything - he missed the little town he grew up in, and he missed being close to his parents - but he felt like he had finally found himself in the Bay Area, and that feeling was too good to give up. Sure, he always made his way back home on the holidays - showed up for a surprise on more than one birthday - but Mason made himself a promise in Berkeley. He would never get stuck in Frostford ever again.

The vow was only strengthened when Mason met the love of his life. Allison Rose. It was only his second year in college when he saw her standing near the keg at a frat party; his throat going dry at the sight of her. It was like a dream from the very first moment they spoke, and like a whirlwind they were in love before they knew it. Dating led to moving in together, and moving in together led to an engagement. His entire family flew out to California for the wedding, and his sisters stood proudly as ‘groomsmaids’ during the ceremony. They were married before either of them even had so much as a Bachelor’s degree, but they were sure they had a whole life ahead of them to figure things out together. That was, until Allison got sick. The couple had three good years before the ground Beneath their feet began to crumble, and Mason was forced right back into his most seasoned role: caretaker. Only this time, no matter what he did, he couldn’t seem to heal the woman he loved. He couldn’t even seem to help her. Still, he stayed up at her side every single night - spent countless hours researching anything that might save her. He dropped out of college, and prayed every night to a god he didn’t believe in. But Mason was only human. The funeral went by in a blur. Hordes of family and friends giving him their best wishes went by unnoticed. He hardly remembers how all four of his sisters spent every night for a month squished into the apartment he had shared with Allison. The only thing that he could make sense of through the haze in his head was the pain. He missed his wife. He missed the beautiful life they had imagined for themselves; so many plans gone astray. He wasn’t sure he was ever going to feel okay again, but with his sisters begging him to live his life again, he didn’t feel like he had much choice when it came to healing -- or faking it, at least. They needed him, just like they always had; his whole family did. Though the walls he built around his heart certainly never went unnoticed, he had had enough of checking out of his own life.

In an attempt to get away from the memories that haunted the walls of the home he and Allison had shared together, he went along with his sisters back to his hometown. The one place he swore he would never go back to; Frostford. But with the help of his family he made it back to college -- somehow made it all the way through med school. There wasn’t enough time to think when he was constantly on his feet, after all; barely sleeping and always waiting for the next patient.

It’s been nearly eight years now since the love of his life left him, and though he wishes he could tell the whole world he’s moved on… he knows there’s a piece inside of him that’s doomed to stay broken. A hole he’s been trying to fill with vodka and a xanax slipped to him under the table for as long as he can remember. It’s not the best method of coping, but… for a guy with so much on his shoulders, what else can he do?

#frostfordintro #you can also like this and i'll come to you! or just hmu lovelies

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orbemnews · 4 years ago

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Jake Paul Promised Them Fame. Was It Worth the Price? In the vast world of YouTube villains, there may be none as famous as Jake Paul. The 24-year-old Vine star turned vlogger has polarized viewers with videos of dangerous pranks and stunts (though he continues to bring in millions of views). He is a serial entrepreneur linked to several dubious and misleading business ventures (though that hasn’t deterred investors). He has repeatedly offended and alienated his collaborators (though he keeps finding new ones). In 2020, he declared the coronavirus a “hoax.” It can often seem that he lives to provoke outrage. Now, Mr. Paul is facing allegations of sexual misconduct from other influencers. Yet he remains the blueprint for many social media stars today. Without him, it’s hard to imagine the current land rush of so-called “collab houses,” where young content creators film videos, throw parties and spur drama. Or the proliferation of prank videos on YouTube. Or the bad-boy archetype embodied by so many influencer-entrepreneurs born on TikTok. At the center of these comparisons is the Team 10 house, an influencer collective and talent management agency founded by Mr. Paul in 2016. The vision: He and six other creators, aged 14 to 19, would live together and leverage their collective followings for views and cash. Everyone would benefit, but no one more than Mr. Paul. “I know it’s a cliché, but, like, literally, I want to create an empire of dozens of talent under me, to take my power and multiply it so that I become bigger than myself,” Mr. Paul told The New York Times in 2017. Back then, the arrangement was uncommon; sure, influencers lived together (the O2L house and The Station had already come and gone), but the houses weren’t all businesses in their own right. Now, such setups are increasingly common — and highly lucrative. “People look to Team 10 house as the inspiration for collab houses today,” said Brendan Gahan, the chief social officer at Mekanism, an advertising agency. “The Beatles didn’t invent rock ’n’ roll, but they’re the most famous rock ’n’ roll band. Team 10 didn’t invent the collab house, but they became the most famous collab house and really defined it. They created the culture.” But that culture is now being re-evaluated, as stories mount from creators who say they were exploited for views. No Rent, No Parents … No Problems? When AJ Mitchell received a direct message from Jake Paul in early 2016 about an opportunity in Los Angeles, he was intrigued. An aspiring musician in small-town Illinois, Mr. Mitchell had earned more than 80,000 followers on Instagram. Mr. Paul, who was raising capital to start a media company focused on influencers, said he could help him become much bigger. Aaron Mitchell, AJ’s father, said he “was not very impressed with Jake” and that he didn’t want his son, who was 14 at the time, involved with Team 10. However, after extensive conversations with Mr. Paul’s parents, Greg Paul and Pam Stepnick; Mr. Paul’s assistant, Erica Costell, who was in her mid-20s; and Neels Visser, another member of Team 10, he and his wife, Allison, decided to allow AJ to join the group. The arrangement worked like this: Each of the influencers could live in the Team 10 house (a rented mansion in the upscale Beverly Grove neighborhood of Los Angeles) for free if they agreed to produce regular content for social media (which Mr. Paul would monetize) and participate in brand deals. (Mr. Paul declined to comment on the financial arrangement he had with house residents.) According to several former house members, Mr. Paul could also take 10 to 20 percent of Team 10 members’ YouTube ad revenue for up to five years, even if they left the group. At the time, it sounded like a good deal; Mr. Paul would help them become stars in their own right. On May 24, 2016, Mr. Mitchell arrived at the Team 10 house with a single suitcase. For several weeks he didn’t have a bedroom, so he slept on a leather couch in the living room. Mr. Mitchell was given a room to share with Alissa Violet, who was 19 at the time and publicly dating Mr. Paul. “It kind of felt unreal,” Mr. Mitchell, who is now 19, said. “I’d seen those people on social media before, growing up. I’d see all these funny videos so when I went out there I was like, ‘Whoa, this is real.’ It was like I was living in a dream.” Ms. Mitchell, AJ’s mother, would regularly fly in and stay at a nearby hotel. On some occasions, she even spent the night at the Team 10 house, sleeping in the room her son shared with Ms. Violet. “For me, as a mom, I’m very protective of my kid,” Ms. Mitchell said. She said that when she called older members of the group to check on her son, they assured her that things were going well; AJ, she said, never let on otherwise. “All I know is they were doing a bunch of silly stupid videos, being kids,” Ms. Mitchell said. “Sometimes being reckless, but doing silly videos.” The Prank Economy To get views, many YouTubers, including Mr. Paul and David Dobrik’s Vlog Squad, relied on pranks and practical jokes, drawing from a lineage of entertainment franchises like “Jackass” and “Punk’d” as well as the work of creators like Mr. Paul’s older brother, Logan. The people living and working in the Team 10 house served as subjects for all kinds of antics. Mr. Paul’s YouTube channel offers an incomplete record — many of his videos have been removed — but it includes footage of members of Team 10 being electrically shocked without warning and facing pressure to jump from the mansion’s roof into a pool. The videos give the impression of a rollicking frat house during rush season rather than a collaborative work environment. Former Team 10 members told The Times that Mr. Paul once chain-sawed through a bedroom door to wake up two people in the house. One of Mr. Paul’s former assistants recalled arriving for work to find her desk had been smashed for a video. The Times sought comment from Mr. Paul on the material of the YouTube videos and the accounts of former Team 10 associates, and he declined. It wasn’t just people in the house who were affected by Mr. Paul’s pranks: In 2017, a man sued Mr. Paul for hearing loss after the influencer blared a car horn at him; the case was later dismissed. “When it comes down to someone having to do something to get attention, every single day you have to do crazy stuff,” Mr. Mitchell said. “If you go back and look at those videos, you see a lot of crazy stuff and you’ll see why kids are drawn into it, because it was a house full of kids doing whatever they want. Every day it was a new crazy thing, but people wanted to watch it.” In his downtime, Mr. Mitchell would write songs in a notebook and play them on his keyboard. One day, he came home to discover his keyboard broken. Mr. Paul told him it had been thrown in the pool for a video. ‘He Was the Boss’ Followers were the primary currency of the Team 10 house. “If you got tagged in one of Jake’s YouTube videos, you could get 50,000 followers,” Mr. Mitchell said. “Jake would use that to manipulate everyone. If anyone didn’t do what Jake wanted, he’d tell everyone else in the house not to tag them. Jake had a monopoly, and he decided who got famous.” But there was money coming in, too, and members of the group had questions about where it was going. When Team 10 formed, Mr. Paul set up and controlled a business email accounts for each member to solicit opportunities. Mr. Mitchell said he was not aware of the opportunities that he was being pitched for or what was coming in. In the 14 months he spent as part of the group, he said he was paid directly for two brand deals but never received payment from Team 10. Mr. Mitchell relied on small amounts of money he received from his parents to cover expenses like meals out with the group. Mr. Paul had convinced Mr. Mitchell’s parents that their son would be taken care of, but no meals or structure were provided for him or the other teenage residents. Most of them had never been expected to shop or cook for themselves, and didn’t have the means to do so. “People see these mansions and they see people living like royalty, but no one knew I was sleeping on the floor or I didn’t have food,” said Mr. Mitchell. Veena Dubal, a professor of law at the University of California, Hastings, said: “We have all these laws in place that have been around for a century to protect child performers, but they have not been extended to safeguard the health, welfare and safety of children influencers.” Because these young creators make money through a variety of revenue streams, and are not employed by a single entity, they can be vulnerable to exploitation. “If there’s not some entity taking responsibility as an employer, then we’re going to see the kind of exploitative and unsafe practices that we have been seeing,” she said. The allure of living independently and building a following had worn off. “At first I was like there’s no parents here and we get to be free and do what we want,” Mr. Mitchell said. “I felt, like, free in a way. But having Jake be the adult was weird because we all listened to Jake. He was the boss.” During parties, marijuana and alcohol were available in the Team 10 house. Mr. Mitchell said he once drank so much that he blacked out. The group often attended parties where guests in their 20s and 30s would mingle with teenagers. Mr. Mitchell said he began a sexual relationship with a woman nearly a decade older than him whom he had met at an influencer party. He understands now that the relationship could not have been consensual given his age. “I was a baby. I had a baby face,” he said. “I feel like that’s just weird now.” Behind the Scenes By late 2016, Mr. Mitchell had left the Team 10 house, though he remained part of the group for several months after. His mother, who was staying at a hotel nearby, had found out about a party at the house and drove over to pick up her son. It wasn’t until recently that Mr. Mitchell told his parents the full extent of what took place in the house. Ms. Mitchell said she is horrified and angry. “I’ll tell you right now, had I known anything about any relationship with a girl 10 years older than him I would have had the law involved,” she said. Several months after Mr. Mitchell’s departure, the rest of Team 10 was forced to move; neighbors said Mr. Paul had created “living hell” for them and turned their sleepy neighborhood into “war zone.” The following year, Ivan and Emilio Martinez, two YouTubers from Spain who had lived in the Team 10 house, spoke about their decision to leave. In a YouTube video, they said Mr. Paul bullied them, terrorized them with pranks and made racist comments mocking their background and language skills. (The two speak English as a second language.) In a 2018 interview with the YouTuber Shane Dawson, Ms. Violet described what it was like to date and work with Mr. Paul. “He’s not a physical abuser, but mentally and emotionally, 100 percent, every day, 2,000 times a day,” she says in the video. “I can’t even remember a conversation where it was me walking away feeling good about myself.” “If we filmed a video, and he had to push me into a bush, normally, you’d nudge someone or pretend to push someone. He would actually shove me,” she says, as she shows scars to the camera. “He would just do it way too hard.” In a YouTube video posted on April 9, Justine Paradise, a 24-year-old TikTok influencer, accused Mr. Paul of sexual assault. The incident, she said, involved forced oral sex and took place at the Team 10 house in 2019. “In a situation like that, there was nothing I could do,” Ms. Paradise said. “I was physically restricted, and I felt emotionally restricted afterwards to even say anything about it.” Three friends whom she told directly afterward about the incident corroborated her account. Ms. Paradise said she plans to file charges. In a public statement posted to Twitter, Mr. Paul denied Ms. Paradise’s allegations, calling them “100% false.” Mr. Paul’s lawyer Daniel E. Gardenswartz, said in a statement to The New York Times: “Our client categorically denies the allegation.” Railey Lollie, 21, a model and actress who began working with Mr. Paul when she was 17, said he often called her “jailbait” and commented on her appearance. She said that one evening in late 2017, after filming a video, Mr. Paul groped her. She forcefully told him to stop, and he ran out of the room. Ms. Lollie quit shortly after the incident. “I was with Jake for months, and I saw what kind of person he was behind the scenes and what kind of person he put out to the rest of the world,” she said. Meanwhile, in Businessland In the business and entertainment worlds, the name Jake Paul continues to have cachet. In March, Mr. Paul announced he was starting a new venture fund; already, powerful figures in Silicon Valley have agreed to contribute to the fund. “These older investors come in who have no idea about social media and they see he’s got a lot of followers. From their perspective, it’s success,” Mr. Mitchell said. “The real story is, Jake should not be getting any money from investors from the things he’s done in the past.” Mr. Paul, who was an athlete in high school, began a boxing career in 2020. “It brought back the competitive, athletic Jake Paul,” he told Rolling Stone recently. Fighting has helped Mr. Paul expand his audience. It has also made him richer: In an interview with ESPN last year, Mr. Paul said he earned “eight figures” for a fight against Nate Robinson, a former N.B.A. star. For his most recent fight, against Ben Askren, a former mixed martial arts champion, Mr. Paul’s disclosed pay was $690,000. (After the fight, Mr. Paul wrote in an Instagram post that the fight had drawn 1.5 million pay-per-view customers.) Where other YouTubers, like David Dobrik and James Charles, have faced financial fallout after accusations of misconduct, Mr. Paul has yet to see such consequences. “If Jake’s sponsors and investors don’t hold him accountable, then why would he change any of his actions?” Ms. Paradise said. Source link Orbem News #Fame #Jake #Paul #price #promised #worth

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ritebeforeyoureyes · 7 years ago

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Childhood Sweethearts

This was an alternate universe idea I was thinking of and miraculously, something that the lovely, Bell, suggested so here, it is! Sorry it kinda sucks but I literally have the biggest headache.

Masterlist - Plot: Zendaya and Tom are childhood sweethearts who reunite after some time apart.

Childhood Sweethearts (One-Shot)

There are always things that coincide, things you associate with one another: Romeo and Juliet, peanut butter and jelly, gin and tonic. At one point in time, Zendaya Coleman and Tom Holland were one of those things.

Inseparable since birth, the pair were the picturesque friendship. They were the type of kids that bystanders knew were going to get married someday, start their own perfect family. They were all sunshine and daisies; a predictable yet loveable little love story. And, as the two transcended from childhood to adulthood, it seemed like they were subconsciously abiding by the path of predictability that had been set out for them.

It started with an era of awkwardness. They were about twelve, thirteen years old and in that strange phase of still being immature and wanting to be grown; the phase that came with a newfound appreciation for the opposite sex.

Tom had been the first to notice. Realisation hit him like a tonne of bricks whilst they were watching movies together. Zendaya was being her usual self, her legs outstretched across the sofa as her back rested against Tom’s forearm. They were watching a horror and she was clinging to his shirt tightly, her face nuzzling its way into the crook of his neck. It was from the corner of his eye that Tom suddenly noticed how strikingly beautiful his best friend was. Her hazel eyes flickered closed occasionally with fear and she was using her curls as a shield from the paranormal world unfolding before them. Her hair was a chocolate brown colour and it evidently seemed to brighten her tanned complexion. The most striking feature about her though was those lips. Tom hadn’t noticed them before but now he felt compelled to touch them; touch her lips with his own. It was a strange sensation, one that made Tom’s eyes widen with realisation and before he could comprehend it, he had kissed her – they were both each other’s first kiss.

In fact, their friendship was a frenzy of firsts.

They were fifteen now. Zendaya was meant to be going on her first ever real date. This new kid had moved into town, Spencer. He was the stereotypical pretty boy and from the offset Tom had had issues with the guy. He didn’t like the fact that all the girls were pinning over him, he didn’t like that he was the new soccer captain and he most definitely didn’t like that he’d asked Zendaya on a date. Tom had never had to fight for Zendaya’s attention prior to this moment and it had taken him a while to admit that he was threatened, so threatened that he’d jumped at the chance to have a ‘mock date’ with Zendaya before her real one. It was safe to say that Zendaya had enjoyed her first date much more than her second and Spencer was history.

However, the big first had happened when they were seventeen. They were at Jacob Batalon’s annual birthday bash. The shindig was always the biggest party of the year and this was the first time that the whole class was in attendance of a party with alcohol. Tom, being close pals with Jacob, had helped him set up early so, he and Zendaya didn’t get to do their typical pre-party routine. They’d usually chill, have dinner, he’d sit with her whilst she got ready before driving the two of them to their desired location.

So, when Tom did finally spot Zendaya, they were both good levels of tipsy. She was in a little red number, a freakum dress at its finest and Tom couldn’t help but keep his eyes (or his hands) off her. In her heels, she was a satisfactory level taller than him and weirdly enough, he was turned on by that prospect. Her lengthy legs stretched for days and Tom found himself drooling at the sight. He’d sought her out in a crowd and immediately been mesmerised by her. Zendaya had come over to say hello and Tom had made the rash decision to say hello with his lips. Zendaya, with the alcohol following through her system, responded all most immediately. Honestly, it didn’t even surprise anyone that it had happened; spectators just rolled their eyes and let them get on with it.

It was a messy gesture of attached lips, frantic hands and excess clothing. Tom forced her up against the kitchen wall first; his body caging hers in against the flat surface. She bent down a little, their faces level with one another as she gripped at his hair tightly. His curls were growing out and she liked it, liked the silky feel of it in her hands. She’d go between caressing it and tugging at it; the tugs stimulating guttural moans from the back of Tom’s throat. They’d then continued to progress upstairs. They stumbled, and they fell until they were on a bed, naked, and withering with a pent-up lust that they’d spent years supressing. It had been a little awkward and desperate, a night full of getting to know one another in a way that was so intimate they were glad they were doing it together. Tom had worshipped every inch of her body, taking his time to savour the taste and feel of her. Never in his dreams had he thought he’d be losing his virginity to his best friend but in all honesty, he was glad that he was. He couldn’t envision any other man respecting her as much as he was right now. It wasn’t the rose petal and candlelit room that she deserved but he knew, his actions and his constant reference to her beauty and her sexiness was enough. It had been the perfect night.

Seventeen was also a year that held another big first – heartbreak. It was at seventeen that they were told that Zendaya’s father had gotten a transfer to New York. It was earth-shattering news for the both of them. They were in this weird grey area of limbo with their relationship and all of their questions were left unanswered as Zendaya was thrust into the bleak reality of moving across the country. There was no room for discussion with her parents either; within weeks of losing their virginity to one another, Tom and Zendaya were separated.

At first the distance was manageable, they would FaceTime and call; he’d even be corny enough to write her a letter here and there but in all honesty, their relationship was never the same. When she was upset, calling Tom wasn’t the same as a hug from him. When he was sore, a little tender love and care wasn’t the same as a text message. And as two years panned out, contact between the two dwindled to a rarity; a privilege saved for birthdays and holiday wishes. It wasn’t like Tom and Zendaya had stopped being friends, it was just that they’d stopped being close. Zendaya had once told Tom every unnecessary of her life and now, she had decided against messaging Tom about her admittance into UCLA. Going to UCLA for college meant that she was back in California; back home. But in reality, it didn’t feel like home.

Zendaya, stupidly, presumed Tom would be waiting at the airport for her. She knew he didn’t even know she was coming but an idealistic part of her hoped these two years hadn’t happened; that he was still her best friend and that she’d be able to jump into his arms at the earliest of conveniences. L.A. was where everything between Tom and her happened and it was hard not to associate him with this lifestyle. But of course, Zendaya had set herself up for failure because none of what she’d hoped for had happened. With her parents still in New York, Zendaya was left to fend for herself. She’d lifelessly moved into dorms and settled into early college life, the reality of Tom’s absence hitting her harder than ever.

But being at college was different to being at school. Zendaya lived and breathed in close proximity to other people and within days of being on campus, her closed off nature was being detected. It had taken her new roommate, Laura, a few persistent tries before Zendaya was confessing the deepest and darkest fears she had been harbouring for years now. She was still irrevocably in love with her best friend, despite their lack of communication and Laura found herself humbled by the story. It was one of the most sardonically romantic stories she had heard, and she felt sorry for Zendaya. It was going to be hard to forget her first love, but it was something she would have to do, sooner or later. Laura didn’t want Zendaya, a girl who had been nothing but nice to her, to ruin her college experience because of a guy who probably wasn’t thinking about her.

“I know it’ll take you a while to forget,” Laura, herself, had never been as in love with someone as Zendaya was with Tom so on a personal level, she couldn’t relate to her friend. But, one thing she could relate with was heartbreak. She’d dealt with her fair share of assholes and she knew the perfect remedy for an aching heart. “But how about a girl’s night out to distract you for a little?”

They say the first few weeks of college are the most integral, socially. It’s where you join sororities and clubs, try out for teams and go to frat parties. After being here for a week, Zendaya had done none of it and she knew she was being idiotic. She had moved back to L.A. to start a new chapter of her life and with or without Tom, she was going to have to go on. So, she got dressed up and she plastered her face with a façade of smile and she fearlessly strut into a frat party, her dear friend by her side.

Music was loud and thumping and after three or so cups of spiked cider, Zendaya found herself nervous with a sense of déjà vu. Her mind was trying to grasp why everything felt so familiar until a bulky arm encircled her waist. It was much larger than she remembered but the familiarity was there, the mere touch was enough for Zendaya to figure out who her captor was. She traced the protruding vein on his arm before spinning in his hold. His curls had disappeared, that was the first thing she’d picked up on, her face settling into a frown at the much shorter hair do. Everything else, on the other hand, was pretty much the same. He had beefed up a little and Zendaya’s gaze leisurely made its way up his chest to his squared shoulders.

“You’re here.” His voice came out like a whisper above the sound of rap music. His tone was rough and raspy and like their first night together, there was no other utterance between them. Their hellos was a kiss that made time stop. Zendaya cupped his light stubble covered face and smashed her lips into his. He hadn’t even been shocked by her abruptness, his lips meeting hers with an urgency that was unexpected for those who had been apart for years. They were clinging to one another so tight, both scared that if they didn’t, the other would disappear. It was a frenzy of committing everything to memory in fear that this would be their last time together.

But it was safe to say, after that night, Tom and Zendaya’s relationship stopped being one of firsts. She was no longer the girl he’d slept with once, she was the girl he’d made love to over and over. Tom was also able to take her out on that well deserved second date, four years later.

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#tomdaya fanfiction #tomdaya #tomdaya fan fic #tomdaya fan fiction #tomdaya fanfic #ritebeforeyoureyes #oneshot #childhood sweethearts

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glittergummicandypeach · 4 years ago

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Bad Religion Recall the Rowdy LA Punk Scene in a New Book

One of the problems with being an L.A. punk band in 1980 was there were very few places to play. Part of this was due to bias. If you weren’t a known commodity, it was hard to get people to take you seriously. For instance, Keith Morris literally begged bookers and promoters to let Black Flag play. When his band was finally invited to perform at the venerable Masque, the show was shut down and the venue closed its doors for good. Many of the older punk scenesters from the seventies looked down at hardcore bands and their fans for the negativity they brought to their scene. They were too violent, too reactionary, or just didn’t get it. To their minds, bands like Bad Religion embodied everything that was wrong with the punk scene.

Hardcore bands had to get creative. They realized that by supporting each other they could make their own scene within the scene. One of Bad Religion’s first live shows was with a relatively unknown band from Fullerton called Social Distortion who invited Bad Religion to play with them at a party in Santa Ana.

“I think our first show was at a warehouse,” Bad Religion guitar player Brett Gurewitz recalled, “which was fairly common back then because there weren’t that many venues that would book hardcore punk bands.”

On the day of the gig, bassist Jay Bentley was so anxious he threw up before the show. Steve Soto, a Fullerton native and bass player for the Adolescents, gave Jay a bit of friendly advice.

STEVE SOTO: You’re really nervous.

JAY: I know. I get so nervous before we play.

STEVE SOTO: You should always drink at least a six-pack before you play.

JAY: Okay, I didn’t know.

Lead singer Greg Graffin remembered the audience being particularly hostile because the promise of free beer had not materialized, but they made it through their set unscathed. When they got off the stage, Brett received a boost from a familiar face who’d made the journey from Woodland Hills to Orange County to see them play. “After the show,” Brett recalled, “my friend Tom Clement said to me with great seriousness, ‘Brett, no matter what else you do, just don’t break up. If you guys don’t break up you’re going to be huge—seriously. You guys are really good.’”

A Greek organization at the University of Southern California was having a punk-themed party and naively decided to invite actual punks to perform.

Another early show was even stranger: a frat party opening up for the Circle Jerks, the band Keith Morris started after leaving Black Flag, and one of the most popular L.A. punk acts of the early eighties. A Greek organization at the University of Southern California was having a punk-themed party and naively decided to invite actual punks to perform. Once the gig was confirmed, members of Bad Religion and the Circle Jerks invited their friends and distributed flyers like they would for any other show. The frat boys dressed like punks and the punks behaved like, well, punks.

For Lucky Lehrer, the drummer for the Circle Jerks, “it was a typical funny, bizarre, tragic night I’d come to expect with Greg Hetson, Roger Rogerson, and Keith Morris. At the end of the party, Roger got drunk off several free-flowing beer kegs and tried to fight half of the USC football team’s offensive line. They beat the shit out of him.” Apparently, Roger had it coming because Brett recalled watching him attack the jocks with a pair of nun-chucks while blackout drunk.

Despite the hijinks, it was an important gig for Bad Religion. Punk photographer Gary Leonard documented the show, and the band made a favorable impression on Lucky. “I connected with Bad Religion a little because as we were loading all our gear back into cars and mini-trucks I sensed these ‘kids from the Valley,’ as I called them, were a little less insane than the Circle Jerks.”

Lucky wasn’t being condescending. They were teenagers who despite their intelligence and ambition had very little experience in the ways of the world. “That was the first time I ever witnessed a beer bong,” Bad Religion drummer Jay Ziskrout said of the party.

Keith Morris also had fond memories of the show. When the beer ran out at the punk-themed party, Keith went searching for more, and discovered he wasn’t the only one on a reconnaissance mission.

“My favorite part of the night wasn’t playing with the Circle Jerks or watching Bad Religion,” Keith said. “My favorite part of the night was scamming on as much keg beer as I could possibly glug down. We played fraternity or sorority row and every house had some kind of thing raging. Directly across the street was a party with a country theme. They had all these bales of hay stacked randomly in the front yard. I went to go check it out and there’s this big, tall, blonde-haired surfer dude in a USC frat jacket who turned out to be Ricky Nelson’s son hanging out with Darby Crash.”

The presence of Darby Crash and Pat Smear of the Germs did not escape Brett’s attention. Brett, who idolized Darby, was astonished. “The first hardcore band that I ever saw and fell in love with was the Germs. It was distinctly separate from the punk I had been listening to. It was not the Buzzcocks or the Sex Pistols or the Ramones, who had this very accessible power pop sound, almost like it came from the fifties. The Germs were dark and felt more dangerous.”

The show signaled the start of a long association between Bad Religion and the Circle Jerks, with Bad Religion being one of what Keith Morris referred to as “baby brother bands.”

“The scenario with Bad Religion and the Circle Jerks,” Keith explained, “was that we appreciated each other’s music. There weren’t any assholes in the group. There were no dicks. Everybody was cool. We wanted to go to the party and bust the punk rock piñata. The situation was because of our friendship with Bad Religion they started playing shows with us.”

But that night at USC, Bad Religion learned that the Circle Jerks were going to be interviewed live on KROQ during Rodney Bingenheimer’s show, Rodney on the ROQ. Rodney was one of the few L.A. scenesters who was connected to the music business and understood the importance of punk rock. (Greg Shaw of Bomp! Records was another.) He was an eclectic figure who’d had his own nightclub in the early seventies called Rodney Bingenheimer’s English Disco. He ate lunch at the same Denny’s in Hollywood every day. People in the music industry would drop off records, and musicians would try to get an audience with the “Mayor of Sunset Strip.”

During his show he would often play music by local punk bands. For early enthusiasts it was the best way to find out about the latest music in the scene. Kids would record Rodney’s show and exchange the tapes with other punks at school. As strange as it sounds in today’s era of corporate commercial radio, in 1980 you could turn on Rodney on the ROQ and hear the Adolescents, the Circle Jerks, and the Germs. In fact, the Adolescents’ song “Amoeba” broke through into KROQ’s regular rotation and became an underground hit.

Brett understood Rodney’s importance to the scene. “He was a guy who prided himself on knowing who the cool new bands were because he went to shows. Rodney had a radio show that started at midnight. He’d play imports from England that we couldn’t get and local bands that were hard to find, but the bands would give him their tapes to play on the radio.”

Rodney’s show made Greg’s dream of making music seem more attainable. The music Rodney played on his show included crude demos. This sparked the realization that you didn’t have to be signed to a major label to get on the radio. All you had to do was do it.

For Ziskrout, Rodney’s radio show was a crucial link to the Hollywood punk scene. “In those days KROQ had a really weak signal. We were out in West San Fernando Valley and we couldn’t get KROQ at my house most of the time. I used to go to Brett’s house because he lived up on a hill. There were times when someone would have to hold up a wire so the signal would come in clearly.”

The Circle Jerks brought Bad Religion’s demo tape to the radio station. (Both Hetson and Lucky have taken credit for delivering the tape.) Keith introduced the band and Rodney played the song “Politics” on the radio. Even though Ziskrout was aware that it might happen, he wasn’t prepared for how he’d feel when it did. “The thrill of hearing yourself on the radio for the first time can’t be put into words. There’s nothing else like it.”

“Rodney really championed us. He liked the song. He felt we were good. That got us known because kids would tape the show. It was a way people could hear our songs before they were even on a record.”

Rodney’s listeners were enthusiastic about the new band from the San Fernando Valley. They wanted more, and Rodney gave it to them. “That was really the start of the band getting popular in L.A.,” Brett said. “Rodney really championed us. He liked the song. He felt we were good. That got us known because kids would tape the show. It was a way people could hear our songs before they were even on a record.”

[By year’s end] they’d made a popular demo, played some shows, and recorded an EP. They’d accomplished more in their first year than many bands manage in their entire careers. That two of their earliest shows were with Social Distortion and the Circle Jerks and attended by people like Darby Crash suggested they were well connected.

They weren’t. While punk was more popular than ever in L.A., there were very few places to play, so people would come out from all over greater Los Angeles and beyond to attend backyard parties and warehouse shows. On the flip side, punk bands were always looking for like-minded bands that were hungry to play and could be counted on to show up—even if it meant hauling their gear to someone’s house or a rented hall in Oxnard, East L.A., or San Pedro. That was Bad Religion.

“The scene was fairly small,” Jay said, “so you kept seeing the same people over and over again. You’d go to a show and watch a band play. You’d go to a show and you’d be the band playing.”

In those days, a punk kid who’d never set foot in Hollywood could go to a show and stand alongside one of his heroes. Of course, the feeling of admiration wasn’t always mutual. Jay’s first interaction with John Doe of X was when the bass guitar player gruffly said, “Move, kid.”

“He was probably twenty-one,” Jay recalled, “and I was fifteen. He probably thought I was ruining his scene, and he was right.”

The subculture distrusted outsiders and protected its own, even nerdy punks like Bad Religion. Going to a show where you didn’t know anyone and they didn’t know you could be dangerous.

One of the things about Bad Religion’s early shows that stood out to the band members was how many kids knew the words to their songs—and their EP hadn’t even been released yet. When people in the audience sang along with the band at their shows, it made them realize that this weird thing they did together after school in Greg’s mom’s garage had made an impact beyond their immediate circle of friends. It also reinforced the idea that what they were doing was important and had value. The realization slowly took hold that perhaps these kids memorized their lyrics because they had something meaningful to say.

With an audience made up of their heroes and peers, Jay found it hard not to be critical of his performance. “I remember always thinking, That was a good song. That was a good one. Oh, that one sucked.”

Jay wasn’t the only one who struggled with nerves. Brett also admitted to feeling uneasy onstage but credits Greg’s charisma for winning over the crowd. “I feel like Greg was a real performer from the get-go, and I think that was a big part of Bad Religion’s success. A charismatic singer is very important to a punk band, and Greg was always a great performer while I didn’t feel like I was until many years later.”

Greg may have appeared confident, but inside he was just as nervous as everyone else. “It was really nerve-wracking but I had a lot of confidence in the music. My view was, We’re all in this together, so I’ll do my part, but if I’d been up there alone I’d be shitting bricks. And I’ve felt that every concert since. A big part of my confidence comes from the guys behind me.”

It also didn’t hurt that the three performers standing at the front of the stage were all well over six feet tall. With his dyed hair, motorcycle boots, and leather jacket Greg looked the part of a punk rock front man. Brett stayed out of the spotlight but exuded a don’t-fuck-with-me aura. While Jay, the tallest member of the group at six foot four, focused on his guitar, his face a mask of intense concentration.

Brett, who was always a self-described “nerdy kid,” was surprised to learn that simply being in a band deterred people from starting trouble with him. “I remember when we were starting to get popular, more than once tough punk kids would be very menacing to me. Then someone would say, ‘Aren’t you in Bad Religion?’” When Brett told the aggressor he was, that usually ended it.

The subculture distrusted outsiders and protected its own, even nerdy punks like Bad Religion. Going to a show where you didn’t know anyone and they didn’t know you could be dangerous. For Brett, encounters like these were part of his punk initiation. “What attracted me to the punk scene was it felt like a tribe of outsiders. I felt like a person who chronically didn’t fit in. So, joining the punk scene was a way of making that a choice rather than having it inflicted on me.”

Skyler Barberio

Each of the members of Bad Religion had attended punk rock shows and had witnessed things that were difficult to understand or even explain. That’s how the media was able to hijack punk and advertise it as a violent free-for-all that attracted people who were drawn to such behavior. It was violent, at times shamefully so.

At the first punk rock show that Jay attended, Black Flag and the Circle Jerks at the Hideaway, someone crashed a car into the warehouse where the show was being held and drove through the gate. Brett recalled a show attended by Jack Grisham of T.S.O.L. who brought a friend whom Jack kept on the end of a leash. Jack would introduce his friend to strangers and tell them they had to fight his “dog.” If they declined, they had to fight Jack, who stood six foot five and reveled in violence. For Jay, the early Bad Religion shows were “exciting and terrifying and cathartic.” Punk bands whipped the crowd into a frenzy, and when the audience gave that energy back, unpredictable things happened. Bad Religion tapped into that energy in places that were unsanctioned, unsupervised, and unsafe.

Many if not most punk rockers used drugs and alcohol to rise to the occasion and/or deal with the emotions the experience generated. For some punk bands, like the Circle Jerks, the party was their whole reason for being. But Bad Religion wasn’t a party band, nor where they interested in writing confrontational lyrics for the sake of being obnoxious. They had a higher purpose in mind.

“There’s a reason we called ourselves Bad Religion,” Brett explained. “Greg and I were attempting to be intellectuals. On our debut EP I wrote a song called ‘Oligarchy’ and Greg wrote a song called ‘Politics.’ We weren’t writing joke punk or funny punk. We were teenagers, still naive and quite immature, but we were trying.”

For all their intelligence, there was no getting around the fact that they were suburban kids who didn’t know what they were doing or what they were getting into. As fans, they were outsiders, but participating as performers didn’t make things any less baffling.

“I felt like we were in an adult world that we didn’t understand,” Jay explained. “There were other people dealing with the business side of things that I didn’t want to know about. I just wanted to play and leave. It wasn’t business and it wasn’t a party.

There was this feeling that this was important without knowing why. Maybe that was just youth and not having a grasp on things, but the party thing wasn’t really for me. I think part of that was from our discussions in Greg’s garage: ‘What do we want to be as a band? What do we want to say? How do we want to present ourselves?’ I don’t know what other bands talk about when they’re forming. I just know that we had that discussion. We didn’t want to just be up there screaming, ‘Fuck the cops!’ or ‘I hate my parents!’ There had to be something more meaningful than that. That was how we felt about the band. It wasn’t a vehicle for drugs. It wasn’t a vehicle for money. It was a vehicle for us to say the things that we felt. That was more important than anything else.”

This content was originally published here.

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alvskat · 7 years ago

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under the cut is all my chars, links to their pages, and mini bios about them all for plotting purposes. if anyone wants to plot, feel free to hit me up tbh, or like this and i’ll come to you. thxxxxxx.

cordelia genevieve von jenner (gigi hadid fc) - 21, fashion designer, aries, the queen bitch. cordelia has always grown up with more money than she knew what to do with (but that didn’t stop her from trying to use it all). she grew up in beverly hills, california and has the valley girl accent to match. everyone thinks that she’s ditzy and dumb usually the moment they see her. her family life has never been great. her mom is critical of every little thing she does and her father is just absent whenever she needs him most. the person she’s closest to is her twin sister, ziggy. they were raised by nannies and couldn’t have turned out more differently. where ziggy is kind and sweet and caring, cordelia is cold and cruel and cunning. she has a plot for everything and was the classic mean girl in high school. she came to new york university for college and ended up dropping out after two years, being offered a job to design for a major fashion company in the city itself after spending a year there for an internship. good connections for her would probs be ex boyfriends, hookups, best friends, friends from home, friends turned enemies, etc.

margot avery benson (nina dobrev fc) - 23, medical student, leo, the sweetheart. margot is probably one of the kindest people that anyone has ever met. she cares about people to an extreme degree. she’s competitive to a fault, headstrong, and never without a smile on her face. she’s also the biggest klutz known to man and tends to make awkward situations 200x more awkward than they need be. she’s the second oldest of four siblings–the eldest of whom recently died in a tragic car accident over the summer. this really affected margot’s world negatively and made her re-evaluate things. she was dating a boy literally for years–they were high school sweethearts and everyone thought they would go on to be together forever–but after her sister’s death, she immediately pulled away from him, breaking up with him because she realized she hadn’t gotten to experience much of life without a boyfriend. basically, her purpose is now to feel as alive as possible and become the best person that she can. she’s trying to figure out what she wants to do, how she’s going to do it, and what’s most important to her. connections for her that i would love is the ex-boyfriend she dated for years, a good friend group (squaaaad), and academic rivals.

rowan scott vitto (jeremy allen white fc) - 22, investigative journalist at the new york times, capricorn. the stoner. rowan has a love for the green stuff. overall, he’s not so much different from the frat brothers he left in college–he partied (still does often), he slept around until he met his girlfriend silver–but he is a kind, poetic soul at heart. he spends most of his time reading old literature and writing his own poetry. he has a younger sister, venus, who he protects like no other. his father is a little out there as a person and, in turn, so is he. they’re a close family for the most part, but the death of their mom really took its toll on all of them. when he’s graduated, rowan is ambitious and romantic and just the sweetest lil southern gentleman you’ll ever see in your life. he’s also ridiculously rich and is very giving because of it, as he knows that not everyone has the same opportunities as he does. 10/10 guy. would probably make pancakes in the morning for the girls his frat bros slept with in college. some great connections for him would be exes, a best friend, frat brothers from college, coworkers, etc.

chander dawn miller (phoebe tonkin fc) - 21, actress, taurus, the reformed. chandler dawn is a household name. anyone who’s anyone has heard of her. since the age of 12 when she was first discovered as an actress and went to work on a successful kids tv show, she’s been a star. from magazine covers to movie premieres to award shows, chandler never had a normal childhood; she never had the chance, and it very clearly affected her once she hit adolescence. she went a little crazy come her teenage years, especially once she turned 16. she began sleeping around, partying like wild. she wasn’t the sweet, household name anymore. she wanted to show the world that she changed and grown up. this went on for years. all anyone would see in magazines was more articles about her getting arrested for underage drinking or drinking and driving or drug possession. it wasn’t until she finally nearly overdosed on cocaine that she realized that she needed to get her shit together. her dad no longer a part of her life, her mom acts as her agent and isn’t so enthusiastic about her daughter taking it easy from acting and moving to new york, but chandler is hoping that the change will be good for her. that it will be a new beginning. good connections for her are party friends that she used to hang out with, fellow actresses, enemies/rivals, bad influence friends, etc.

miranda angelica lancaster (nicola peltz fc) - 21, business student, capricorn, the executive. miranda lancaster is no one you can push around. while she believes in class and dignity above all else, she will still punch someone in the face if they piss her off. she doesn’t take shit and she’s kind of a bitch, but that comes with the territory of being a spoiled brat. she’s driven and determined and knows what she wants--in life, in a partner, in her future--and she’s willing to go to whatever lengths to make them all happen. her true dream is to take over her father’s business once she graduates, but he seems determined to give it over to her older brother, sebastian, instead, despite the fact that he doesn’t want to do it. some gr8 connections for her would be friends with benefits, unlikely friends, a friend she can protect that doesn’t speak up as much for themselves, enemies, exes, etc.

toby anthony dermott (daniel sharman fc) - 22, store clerk, cancer, the addict. toby’s life hasn’t been an easy one for him. when he was about ten years old, his parents passed away in a random shooting at the grocery store they were at. he’s lived with his grandparents since. they’ve never been wealthy, in fact most of the time they lived a paycheck to paycheck lifestyle, but toby never took it for granted. he was extremely grateful for them, but at the same time, he was depressed. he missed his family and the way things used to be. he turned to drugs in his time of need, only at age 15. though he sucked at actually attending school, he was practically a genius. he had a natural inclination toward mechanical engineering and, thanks to a teacher who knew him well and wrote him a glowing letter of recommendation, he got a scholarship to attend nyu. still in the prime of his addiction, he attended school there, getting an apartment in the city. it was only after a semester, though, that his grandfather passed away from a heart attack. his world was changed once more, and now he was determined to get sober. he went to rehab back home for a few months and ended up returning once more to new york. he’s never seen himself as worth very much, but he wanted a fresh start in the city to take his mind off of all he lost at home. he’s still close to his grandmother, though. some wanted connections for him are exes, cousins/family, friends from home, friends from his time in college, coworkers, etc.

sasha marie underwood (dominique provost-chalkley fc) - 22, dance instructor/student of dance, virgo, the idealist. sasha’s parents gave her up when she was only a few hours old. all they left her with was a note explaining their decision and her birth certificate. sasha had never had the heart to read the letter, even today, but she’s always kept it close to her bed at night, tucked away in a nightstand. she moved in and out of foster care from that age onward, bouncing from home to home. finding a home seemed impossible and making friendships seemed even worse, as she was always moving around, being separated from those she cared about. she made one friend in foster care that she lives with now in new york and they remain closer than ever. sasha’s experience in foster care was a terrible one full of abuse, but the friend made things seem easier for a time at least. she was never adopted, but when she was 18, she left, having earned a scholarship for dance at the new york academy of the arts. she’s a kind, open-minded soul with so much love and heart to give. she puts her everything into teaching kids how to dance and wants to be on broadway someday. some connections i would love for her would be the friend from foster care she lives with, any other friends from it, ex-siblings, exes, parents of kids she teaches, etc.

#( trash queen speaks || ooc ! )#abuse tw #drugs tw #overdose tw #death tw

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your-modern-shakespeare · 8 years ago

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A Little Too Real (1)

Summary: RealityTV!AU- You are a wardrobe supervisor for a popular TV network. The show is planning a reality TV show like the bachelor and Bucky is the newest contestant. But as the competition starts he realizes that he doesn’t like any of the girls…on the show anyway.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (eventual)

Word Count: 3638 (the first 1500 or so words are the Teaser)

A/N: Guys I am so excited for this series! I am so happy for all of the feedback and I hope you enjoy this first installment. I am publishing it a little early because I will be at school tomorrow from 10:00am-8:30pm, which will kill me, but I love you guys and enjoy! (Also this is an AU so Captain America is just a movie)

Warnings: Google translations, talk of drinking, fluff, angst

Tags: @fangirl1802, @seargantbcky, @lust-for-pan, @38leticia, @barnes-and-noble-girl, @karipaleta, @capandbuck, @camillechan

PRE-SHOW

READER’S POV

When I interviewed for the job as Wardrobe Supervisor for the Network I was expecting to work with a lot of crazy people. But never did I think that I would, in a way, join them.

The network had just gotten out of a meeting for a newly concepted reality television show. It had easily been approved by all of the appropriate parties and before long we were at auditions for our leading man.

So far we had had two guys come in and all of them were your typical frat boy. Lived off of daddy’s money, was well built, had no real trouble with the ladies, and most likely wanted to do the show for attention. But the next man to come in was different. He had long black hair, was still well built, maybe more so than the last, had piercing blue eyes, and had a smile that could make a heart melt.

“Hello, my name is James Barnes.”

“James, why don’t you have a seat, tell us a little about yourself.”

“Thank you.” He sat down in the chair pulling it closer to the table and more centered than it had been before. “I was born and raised in Brooklyn. I have a degree in Mechanical Engineering from MIT and I speak both Russian and Romanian—”

“Ты говоришь по-русски?” (You speak Russian?) I asked. I wanted to make sure that he wasn’t trying to pull one over on us. He smiled and if I didn’t want to smile too…

“Обещаю. Если вы действительно хотите , чтобы проверить меня , мы можем пойти на кофе.” (Promise. If you really want to test me, we can go for coffee.)

“я доверяю тебе.” (I trust you.)

“Stii sa vorbesti romaneste?” (Do you speak Romanian?)

“I don’t speak Romanian, just Russian.” I replied.

“But you understood me.”

“Yes.”

“Y/N is our Wardrobe Supervisor.” The director butted in.

“Приятно познакомиться.” (Nice to meet you)

“и тебе того же.” (Same to you.)

“What else is there to know about you?” The producer asked.

“Well after I graduated from college I moved to Russia for three years where I worked for Roscosmos and switched between working in the Baikonur Cosmodrome and the RKA Mission Control Center—”

“You worked for Roscosmos?” I asked, completely stunned by everything he was saying.

“Yes.”

“What is that?” Someone asked.

“It’s the Russian equivalent to NASA.” I replied.

“I’m assuming that you like them?” Still smiling at me.

“Maybe just...a lot. I mean, my dad still tells me about watching Yuri Gagarin’s launch in 1961.”

“You know, I met his wife.”

“You did not.”

“I did.” I wanted to ask so many questions but I had to restrain myself because this was an interview and I’m sure that they all had questions for him. We sat in silence for a minute before they continued.

“So why do you want to do the show?”

“Well I was told by a good friend of mine that I am getting old and shouldn’t be lonely anymore. I only agree with him on half of that statement and I don’t really mind being lonely.” We all laughed at him but he continued. “I’m kidding. I’m just tired of the whole dating scene. I have tried for years to find a woman who understands me and genuinely likes me. Apparently I’m pretty good at picking the ones that like to cheat or are just after me for my money. I think that being in an environment where we are kind of stuck together will either bring out the worst or the best in people. And then that’s how you weed them out.”

“And what are you hoping to get out of the show? Like what would you like the end result to be?”

“Well, I know that when we spoke, you had pitched the idea of marriage and I am not opposed to it but I think that something as serious as marriage is circumstantial as well. Like if I don’t like any of them, I’m not going to propose, just like if I like one of them but not enough to marry I would probably just ask her to go out with me. I am pretty level headed about relationships so I take them very seriously.”

They continued to ask him questions for a long time. Every so often he would smile over to me or say something to me in Russian that would make me laugh. But like the other two he was gone and the last two guys of the day came and went. Everyone’s reactions to the last two were seemingly dull, which made me think that we all simultaneously agreed on James.

The thing about Reality TV was that it moved a lot quicker than a scripted show. So in no time we were back at the studio going over multiple applications for the women who were supposed to be competing in the show. When James had been cast the producers and director had gone to work to find out every little detail about this guy. And when they sat everyone down to find the women, the approval went through them. And hours upon HOURS later we had 25 women.

We had extensively gone through numerous applications and based on the interview and the questionnaire that James had taken we found suitable matches. To be quite honest I wanted to throw myself into the running but instantly pushed those thoughts away as I thought about my job and why I was here. He was just another pretty face.

A few days later, I was in the wardrobe room prepping my area for the influx of chores that I knew would start. I had my earphones in and couldn't hear a certain reality star coming into the room. He tapped on my shoulder, basically causing me to jump out of my skin.

“Oh my God.” I said and ripped an earphone out of my ear.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“James, uh, what can I do for you?” He reached down and helped me stand up. “Thank you.”

“No problem. I just wanted to stop by and say hello again.”

“Hello...again.” He just smiled and looked down at the ground. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“So you just came to say hello?”

“I’ve just been exploring and looking around.”

“Good, get to know everyone.”

“Exactly.”

“I mean you have to deal with us for the next eleven weeks or so.”

“Yeah I guess I do.”

“Are you excited?”

“For?”

“The show? I mean let me tell you we read through a lot of applications and I think you’re going to find someone.”

“Well I’m glad to hear it, but if I’m being honest I don’t think I’ll get engaged.”

“Really?”

“I’m a very serious person, very practical. I don’t really do spur of the moment type things. If I ever get engaged it will be when I know for sure that who I’m with is the one I’m going to spend the rest of my life with. Which may make dating hard, but if they don’t like me like that, they aren't the one, you know?”

“I do know.”

“You sound like you would know from experience.”

“Yeah, several bad relationships will do that.”

“Ah, I know what that’s like.”

“Yeah.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“How do you know Russian?”

“Russian is my first language.”

“Really?”

“I was born in Moscow.”

“That’s awesome.”

“I moved here when I was younger to live with my grandparents, so that I could go to school here.” I didn’t want to tell him too much.

“Yeah the only reason I know Russian is because I always dreamed of going into space and when I got the interview to work at Roscosmos, I thought that it would be a great thing to put on my resume.”

“Well clearly they liked it.”

“Kind of, it was really rough when I showed up, learning Russian was not easy.” I just laughed at him.

“I wouldn’t know how that felt, but learning English was really hard for me. I spent a lot of time not talking to anyone because I didn’t want to learn it. I had a rough time getting adapted, especially to the heat.”

“If you think California is hot, don’t go anywhere down South.”

“Noted.”

“So now you work here as the wardrobe supervisor. How does that work, don’t they just bring all of their own clothes?”

“Well yes, but I’m here to help out with ironing and there are a few team things that you’ll be doing with the girls so they will need matching clothes and this isn’t the only show I’m working on.”

“I guess I never thought of it like that.”

“Not to mention that every piece of clothing that goes on the screen has to be approved by me.”

“Really?”

“Really. I’m not going to let the show or the network look bad because of me.”

“Literally.” I laughed at him.

“Yes, literally and figuratively.”

“Well I better get going, I’ve got a lot more people to meet.”

“When did you start?”

“Ten minutes ago.”

“With me?”

“What can I say….but anyway I’ll make sure to check back in with you, wouldn’t want my wardrobe to offend anyone.”

“Oh don’t worry about that, I’ve already been through your closet.”

“Have you?”

“What can I say?” He laughed and walked out of the space, and I took in a deep breath trying to calm down my heart.

Over the next couple of weeks the TV studio planned out a general outline for the show and James and I ended up spending a lot of time together. Which was strange. But talking to him was the easiest thing in the word and he always listened to everything I said and vice versa. We easily became friends.

I was working on some other shows, shopping for clothes and he offered to tag along. And I wasn’t going to deny the company, it was a nice change.We talked about the show and he tried everything he could to get me to tell him about the girls, but I wouldn’t say a word. And he kept trying but I was adamant on keeping it a secret. We stopped in at a few different stores and he was very mature until we got to the vintage thrift store. He felt the need to try on anything he could reach or fit in.

“So how did you get into all of this?” I turned and looked at him and he had a feather boa wrapped around his neck, sunglasses on his face, and the most god ugly hat I’ve ever seen. I couldn’t help but laugh at him, I quickly pulled out my phone and took a picture.”I’m going to need that for my twitter.” I just laughed and went back to looking through the dresses.

“When I was in high school I participated in the all school musical. My grandparents didn’t like that I didn’t have any friends and as a project grade for one of my classes working the musical counted. So I thought that I would sign up and work on some kind of crew, that is until I saw that they actually had something called a costume crew. At the time, I wasn’t completely sure what that entailed but I saw costume and knew that I would be fine if I did something with that. Anyway, I worked on the crew for that show and somehow it turned into one of the only things that I enjoyed doing. I didn’t make any friends, besides my teacher, but it was because I was still really hard to understand and he luckily spoke some Russian.”

“When I got to my senior year, my grandparents were really pressuring me to drop theatre and pursue something more practical, go to an ivy league school. My mother went to school to become a fashion designer, that is of course after she dropped her medical degree. My grandparents were apparently furious with her. So she decided to go to Russia on a study abroad trip, where she met my father and never went back. But anyway, I think that was why my grandparents were so opposed to the idea of me going to school for costume design. But I went and visited my dad my senior year, I had money saved for a car, and spent it on the trip instead. He was the one who convinced me to go after what I loved.”

“He told me that my mother was always so happy when she was designing, it was her true passion. So when I graduated from high school and decided to go to the school of my dreams, my dad was there. His first time in America was for my graduation and his second was for my second graduation.”

“But as it would turn out, my grandparents were furious at me at my degree, whatever they could be mad at they were. So I left and went on the road as a dresser for a national tour. I did that for years before we made a stop in LA to do some sight seeing, I got a job interview to work for the network as wardrobe crew and then I made my way up.”

“That’s incredible.” This time when I looked at him, he was wearing a full fur coat, a pair of cowboy boots, and a helmet from a suit of armor.

“Oh my god.” I laughed and as I did, I quickly took a picture. I reached up and took the helmet off of his head. “What are you doing?”

“I’m just trying to have some fun with you.”

“Well you look ridiculous.”

“Thank you.” He shrugged off the jacket and hung it back up. And started stumbling around when he took off the boots. I grabbed the few things that I picked up around the store and took them to the counter to check out. He came back over after he was done and help me carry bags back to our car. “So where are we going next?”

“Back to the studio.”

“So soon?” He pouted his lip at me.

“Yeah. I bought everything that I needed and rush hour is about to hit, I don’t want to get stuck in traffic.”

“You don’t want to be stuck in traffic with me? I take that to offense.”

“I’m sure you have more important things to do than sit in my car, waiting in traffic.” I smiled and climbed into the passenger side. He climbed into the driver's side and started the car, pulling out of the parking lot.

“Well I do have something going on tonight.”

“See, no reason to wait in traffic all night.”

“Well about said plans, it’s my friend's birthday today.”

“Your friend was born on the fourth of July?”

“Yeah, so we’re throwing him a patriotic themed party. We’re all dressing up in America themed costumes and we’re going to watch the fireworks and probably get drunk and I was wondering if you wanted to come.”

“You want me to come to a party?”

“You’re my friend, I would love for you to come.”

“Okay.”

“And you don’t have to worry about a costume, I know it’s late notice—”

“You think that I don’t have a costume for every holiday?”

“Well it is your job.”

“That it is.”

While we drove back he let me choose the music and he actually liked it, which was crazy because people usually didn’t. He dropped me back off at the studio, giving me the address for the party and I went back to my station to put things away before I left to go get ready. But as much as I didn’t want to admit that I didn’t have a costume in front of James, I now had to find something to wear. And I think I may just have the person in mind.

BUCKY’S POV

As soon as I left the studio I headed over to Steve’s. I knew that he would need help setting up and he also managed to get me a costume at the last second. I didn’t tell him why I needed it, especially since I told him before that I wasn’t wearing a costume, but he seemed to have something for me.

I knocked on the door and he immediately let me in.

“How do you feel about George Washington?” He asked.

“Personally?”

“No. It was the only costume I could find.”

“It’ll have to do I guess.”

“What did you say was the reason for this sudden costume change?” We moved about the apartment, setting up things for the party.

“I didn’t.” I yelled from across the room.

“A woman.” He yelled back.

“I didn’t say that.” I walked over to where he was working.

“That’s exactly why.”

“We’re not dating, she’s a friend of mine, I work with her.”

“She’s on the show? I thought you hadn’t started filming yet.”

“No, she’s not on the show, she in wardrobe. Filming doesn’t start for another month and a half.”

“Do you like her?”

“Yeah, I mean she’s great to talk to and she’s really the only friend that I have made on the show.”

“But do you like her?” I glared at him.

“Why do you have to make this into something that it’s not. I have only known her for a few weeks but I value her friendship, she’s not afraid to tell me how it is.”

“Well I’m not afraid to tell you how it is, I think you like her. And because she is in wardrobe you want to impress her with your costume.”

“Why don’t you worry about the party that we’re about to throw.”

“Maybe you should ask her to join the show.”

“Maybe you should shut up.”

He laughed and went off to do something else. The truth was, in the short time that I had known her, I have grown to like her. I don’t know if it was in the same way that I was looking for with the show, but I had to admit that there was something special about her.

So we finished getting ready for the party and went to change before the first guest showed up. I don’t know when exactly Y/N showed up but I was surprised when she did.

She tapped on my shoulder and when I turned around I was not expecting what I saw, but my jaw did hit the floor.

“Mr. Washington.” She greeted with a smile.

“How could you guess...wait, don’t answer that, you’re the only one whose guessed right. And you are stunning.”

“Thank you.” She laughed. “So where is your friend, I made him a birthday pie.” She held up a plate with the most delicious looking pie.

“Oh my god. I haven’t had one of these since I lived in Moscow.”

“Well, as you know it’s tradition to eat this instead of cake. I quiet honestly like the pies better.”

“Me too. Which is why he probably won’t ever get to taste it.” I took the plate from her hands and went to hide it in the kitchen for later.

“James! It’s not your birthday.”She followed after me and I set the plate on top of the fridge, hoping that no one would see it.

“Please, call me Bucky. No one calls me James except my mother and apparently everyone on set. We’re friends, so please, Bucky.”

“Bucky...it’s not your birthday, that is for your friend…”

“Steve.”

“Steve, it’s for Steve.”

“I’m just putting it up there for safekeeping.”

“Sure.”

“Anyway, I do love this costume of yours. You just have a Captain America, USO girl costume lying around?”

“No, my friend loves the Captain America movies and is really big into Cosplay. So a while ago I made her this costume and she still had it.”

“You made this?”

“Yeah.”

“That deserves a drink.” I walked into the kitchen, grabbed two shots glasses and filled them with whatever was left on the counter. And that was the start of our downward spiral because at least for me the last thing I remember was that first shot.

STEVE’S POV

That was probably the craziest party of my life, really the best way to celebrate my birthday. I got to spend a lot time with my beautiful girlfriend, we set off some pretty awesome fireworks, and I may have drank too much. But I wasn’t going to let a hangover ruin one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time.

As soon as I woke up I grabbed a glass of water and the bottle of aspirin, quickly downing two pills and some of the water before setting it on the table beside Peggy. I made my way to the kitchen and started making a pot of coffee. I heard a groan from the couch and saw Bucky’s head pop up.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

“I feel like my head could explode.”

“Well, at least you had some fun last night.”

“Did I?” He stood up and headed to the kitchen.

“Yeah you did.”

“What does that mean?”

“I saw you making out with some girl.”

“Some girl?”

“I'm a little fuzzy on the night, all I remember was that she was wearing red, white, and blue.” I lied.

“That was like 95% of the party.”

“I told you I was fuzzy.”

“Well that's great.”

“Maybe she doesn't remember either.” Hopefully she doesn’t.

“Yeah maybe.”

He grabbed a cup of coffee and went to the guest room to take a shower. My next move: figure out if Y/N remembered making out with Bucky.

PART TWO

Let me know what you think or if you would like to be tagged

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes series #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky series #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel series #a little too real #reality tv!au #bucky bachelor

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your-modern-shakespeare · 8 years ago

Text

A Little Too Real- Teaser

Summary: RealityTV!AU- You are a wardrobe supervisor for a popular TV network. The show regularly does a reality TV show like the bachelor and Bucky is the newest contestant. But as the competition goes in he realizes that he doesn’t like any of the girls...on the show anyway.

Pairing: Bucky x Y/N (eventual)

Word Count: 1595

A/N: So this is something that I tried to work on last week but it was a new idea and I wanted to do some more planning before I released the first part. That being said I would love some feedback on this teaser and hopefully I will post some more for this soon.

Warnings: None? (Google translations)

Tags: @fangirl1802

PRE-SHOW

READER’S POV

When I interviewed for the job as Wardrobe Supervisor for the Network I was expecting to work with a lot of crazy people. But never did I think that I would, in a way, join them.

“Hello, my name is James Barnes.”

“James, why don’t you have a seat, tell us a little about yourself.”

“Ты говоришь по-русски?” (You speak Russian?) I asked. I wanted to make sure that he wasn’t trying to pull one over on us. He smiled and if I didn’t want to smile too…

“я доверяю тебе.” (I trust you.)

“Stii sa vorbesti romaneste?” (Do you speak Romanian?)

“I don’t speak Romanian, just Russian.” I replied.

“But you understood me.”

“Yes.”

“Y/N is our Wardrobe Supervisor.” The director butted in.

“Приятно познакомиться.” (Nice to meet you)

“и тебе того же.” (Same to you.)

“What else is there to know about you?” The producer asked.

“Well after I graduated from college I moved to Russia for three years where I worked for Roscosmos and switched between working in the Baikonur Cosmodrome and the RKA Mission Control Center—”

“You worked for Roscosmos?” I asked, completely stunned by everything he was saying.

“Yes.”

“What is that?” Someone asked.

“It’s the Russian equivalent to NASA.” I replied.

“I’m assuming that you like them?” Still smiling at me.

“Maybe just...a lot. I mean, my dad still tells me about watching Yuri Gagarin’s launch in 1961.”

“You know, I met his wife.”

“You did not.”

“So why do you want to do the show?”

“And what are you hoping to get out of the show? Like what would you like the end result to be?”

“Oh my God.” I said and ripped an earphone out of my ear.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“James, uh, what can I do for you?” He reached down and helped me stand up. “Thank you.”

“No problem. I just wanted to stop by and say hello again.”

“Hello...again.” He just smiled and looked down at the ground. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“So you just came to say hello?”

“I’ve just been exploring and looking around.”

“Good, get to know everyone.”

“Exactly.”

“I mean you have to deal with us for the next eleven weeks or so.”

“Yeah I guess I do.”

“Are you excited?”

“For?”

“The show? I mean let me tell you we read through a lot of applications and I think you’re going to find someone.”

“Well I’m glad to hear it, but if I’m being honest I don’t think I’ll get engaged.”

“Really?”

“I do know.”

“You sound like you would know from experience.”

“Yeah, several bad relationships will do that.”

“Ah, I know what that’s like.”

“Yeah.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“How do you know Russian?”

“Russian is my first language.”

“Really?”

“I was born in Moscow.”

“That’s awesome.”

“I moved here when I was younger to live with my grandparents, so that I could go to school here.” I didn’t want to tell him too much.

“Well clearly they liked it.”

“Kind of, it was really rough when I showed up, learning Russian was not easy.” I just laughed at him.

“If you think California is hot, don’t go anywhere down South.”

“Noted.”

“So now you work here as the wardrobe supervisor. How does that work, don’t they just bring all of their own clothes?”

“I guess I never thought of it like that.”

“Not to mention that every piece of clothing that goes on the screen has to be approved by me.”

“Really?”

“Really. I’m not going to let the show or the network look bad because of me.”

“Literally.” I laughed at him.

“Yes, literally and figuratively.”

“Well I better get going, I’ve got a lot more people to meet.”

“When did you start?”

“Ten minutes ago.”

“With me?”

“What can I say….but anyway I’ll make sure to check back in with you, wouldn’t want my wardrobe to offend anyone.”

“Oh don’t worry about that, I’ve already been through your closet.”

“Have you?”

“What can I say?” He laughed and walked out of the space, and I took in a deep breath trying to calm down my heart.

TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes series #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky series #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel series #a little too real #teaser #realitytv!au #bucky bachelor

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